The long take, the continuous tracking shot, “the oner”—regardless of the term used, filmmakers concur that it represents one of the most challenging technical feats in cinema. It’s a blend of creativity and immense coordination since just one small error can spoil a shot.

Notable instances include: the casino segment from Martin Scorsese’s GoodFellas; more recently, the action sequences in Alfonso Cuarón’s Children of Men and the entire scope of Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Birdman. A recent episode of The Studio, titled “The Oner,” encapsulated the challenges faced in filming a lengthy, unbroken shot—it was itself executed as a oner. Seth Rogen’s character dubs it “the ultimate cinematic accomplishment; it’s the flawless blend of artistry and technique.” (He also references the three films mentioned earlier, perhaps indicating that the continuous single take is primarily a concern for a specific kind of film enthusiast.)

Still, none of these instances rival the work of Chinese director Bi Gan, who has delivered the most audacious and remarkable long take of the year. His fresh sci-fi feature, Resurrection—an intricate journey through 20th-century China—is anchored by an astonishing 30-minute tracking shot that was indeed achieved in a single take. (For reference, the longest continuous segment in Sam Mendes’ war film 1917 lasts nine minutes, with each section meticulously stitched to give the impression of cohesiveness.) Transitioning viewers from night to dawn, Bi’s oner guides its characters from a fierce gang confrontation at the docks through wet alleyways to a lively karaoke venue before circling back to the port, where the love story between the two protagonists takes a shocking, monstrous twist at sea. The outcome is mesmerizing, disorienting, and unlike anything else presented on-screen this year.

What Bi has accomplished with Resurrection is a remarkable technical feat, yet it also represents familiar ground for him. His debut feature, Kaili Blues, concluded with a 41-minute journey across the rural mountainous region of Dangmai; his previous film, Long Day’s Journey into Night, finished with a surreal, uninterrupted 59-minute tracking shot filmed in 3D.

Though he communicated through a Mandarin interpreter, Bi, aged 36, was notably loquacious and perhaps even a bit mischievous. The long shot may involve considerable effort in collaboration and coordination among cinematographers, set designers, and a multitude of extras, yet for Bi, it’s essentially his signature style. He has honed this skill quite effectively. He explained to The Verge how he manages to achieve it.

This interview has been edited and condensed.

The Verge: You are closely linked to the long take. What impact does the long shot have on the audience?

Bi Gan: In my perspective, I deeply consider the significance of long takes on the audience. By implementing long takes, viewers can perceive time in a more profound manner. The prolonged duration and the mise en scène compel them to abandon the inclination towards jump cuts or fragmented storytelling. Now, they are experiencing time in real-time, alongside the camera.

And with a single take, do you hope viewers will recognize that it’s one long shot?

It’s not crucial for them to identify it as a long take, but I believe a good number of viewers will. They sense that this perspective is somehow moving with them. The most important aspect is for them to grasp the experience of time, being uninterrupted due to the long take, while also feeling as though time is condensed so they witness it as it gradually unfolds.

You also manipulate time within the long take in this film using time lapse. Were you aiming to distort the perception of time?

In my first film, Kaili Blues, I included three different tenses within that single long take: events occurring in the past, present, and future, yet all contained within that one continuous shot. In my second film, Long Day’s Journey into Night, I particularly wanted to employ this long take in a compressed manner to explore memories. It’s also filmed in 3D, which highlights the unique aspects of memories, showcasing how some elements are intrinsically fragmented. However, thanks to the long take, it becomes more cohesive and tangible than our actual disjointed memories.

Transitioning to Resurrection, I believe that this is the optimal approach to portray that specific day, which is the final day of the 20th century, moving into the 21st century, where two characters elope and subsequently transform into vampires. A long take for this sequence is essential as it serves as the ideal medium to narrate this particular story.

Did you know from the beginning that one of the film’s vignettes would be a long take when you were scripting, or did that realization come later?

This particular chapter was conceptualized first because it actually derives from one of my novels titled UFO, which explores the theme of two lovers eloping. I truly believe that when adapting a written piece into a movie, it’s important to discover the most suitable cinematic language for it.

Initially, I was still determining how to effectively visualize those words. It was only during the filming phase that I engaged in discussions with my [director of photography] Dong Jingsong and [production designer] Liu Qiang, wherein we posed the question, How shall we accomplish this?

Dong introduced me to a specific painting by Mark Rothko, an abstract work highlighted by red hues, blended with other colors. This combination of particular shades inspired me to begin considering the use of a singular, prolonged take as a narrative technique.

We approach this film language meticulously. We did not aim to undertake it carelessly.

Are you concerned that when anyone views one of your films in the future, they might anticipate a long take?

That’s perfectly fine because I am not restricted by any specific rules. This is quite evident in the films I produce.

This film engages in a dialogue with significant film history. Sticking to the topic of the long take, are there other directors who inspire you in this regard?

Regarding this film’s emphasis on cinematic narrative, it primarily serves as the surface layer of my exploration into the events that transpired in 20th-century China.

As for influences from other filmmakers or films featuring long takes, I don’t consider that I was particularly shaped by them. From my perspective, beginning with Kaili Blues, my decision to employ long takes emerged from a philosophical standpoint; it was the most effective means to articulate what I wanted to convey in that specific film. As a general principle, I tend to challenge numerous preconceived ideas or concepts regarding films. Thus, I do not view myself as either paying tribute or being influenced by the long takes of other filmmakers.

When you initiate the planning of a long take and start blocking it, what does that process entail? How do you approach it?

Regarding the script itself, it is predominantly action-oriented, as that is the only feasible way to execute it. One of our primary challenges is identifying an appropriate location for this narrative to unfold. That’s where we begin. I was in discussions with the art directors to identify an area that would serve as the optimal backdrop for this type of story. We were fortunate with our team of directors and assistant directors, who scouted and ultimately discovered this ideal location comprising railroads, docks, and ports, along with a karaoke bar and hospital.

Following this, constant interaction and collaboration transpire between the teams focused on the scripts, set designs, and technical rehearsals. These groups must continually cooperate and adapt to successfully bring this vision to life.

The DP and cinematographers coordinate with the art directors, requiring us to work closely and make numerous adjustments. If, during technical rehearsals, I observe a specific technical challenge that must be addressed, we discuss potential script modifications. Then, we proceed with additional technical rehearsals, ultimately concluding that this is the best way to integrate everything.

Following these preparations, we invite the actors to participate in actual rehearsals.

How long is the rehearsal duration?

From the moment the art directors began searching for locations to the actual rehearsals took about a month.

We could only practice at night, while during the day, the actors engaged in other preparatory tasks, such as learning to operate a boat and singing karaoke.

Are they genuinely steering the boat?

We have also enlisted a significant number of extras for this specific long take. As the director, I provide them with context—indicating that it’s the last night of 1999—and they operate in various settings such as barber shops and karaoke bars. Based on this information, I encourage them to undertake character development, pondering, “Who are you at this moment in time, within this space, and how would you contribute to your role as an extra in this particular take?”

In Resurrection, is it truly one continuous take, or is it edited together?

Regarding the notion of stitching together, as long as you feel as though it is one take, that is favorable. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. However, in my situation, this particular take is genuinely one unbroken shot.

I searched for the seams but couldn’t detect any.

How many times did you have to film it?

Just three? That’s impressive.

Resurrection is currently in select theaters.