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Inside China’s Cultural Meltdown: Yu Menglong’s Death and the Public Boycott Freezing an Entire Industry

Published: October 30, 2025
The late Chinese actor Yu Menglong. (Image: Video screenshot)

China’s entertainment industry is experiencing a historic collapse. From plunging box office numbers and frozen film projects to public fury over actor Yu Menglong’s mysterious death, an entire cultural sector once worth billions now stands paralyzed—caught between censorship, capital flight, and moral outrage.

“It’s tragic,” one Beijing critic said, pointing to a chart showing ticket sales for Spark, released on Oct. 16. “Every major cinema is empty. Out of dozens of screenings, only two or three sold even two tickets.”

Videos posted online show cavernous halls with single viewers. “Friday night’s late show—no one’s here. I’m literally alone in this giant theater,” one user recorded.

Veteran star Huang Xiaoming admitted he now has to “beg for work.”

“I’ve gone from being chased by producers to being politely turned away,” he said. “When I was on top, I could say no to projects. Now I ask, and they just smile and say they’ll think about it.”

Actresses Liu Tao and Ning Jing have spoken just as bluntly. “You’re not wrong to say I have no roles—because I really don’t,” Ning told fans.

Actors without work, forced into odd jobs

As China’s economy slows, film and TV production has plummeted. Tens of thousands of actors remain unemployed.

Even household names have turned to short videos and livestreams to earn a living, while others take up side jobs—delivering takeout, cleaning, or even performing as street artists.

A 29-year-old actress now working as a waitress said: “I failed the interview for a delivery job and even handed out flyers. There’s no shame in honest work—at least I can keep 2,000 yuan in my account.”

Actor Yu Qingbin, once known for supporting roles, said his 10,000-yuan mortgage pushed him into food delivery. “I never thought I’d be borrowing money just to survive,” he said. “I need directors and producers to see me again. I’m still ready to return to set.”

According to data, the number of television dramas produced in China dropped 30 percent in 2023, while the number of extras in Hengdian—China’s film hub—fell by more than 40 percent.

Even veteran performers like Ma Jingtao have collapsed from exhaustion, filming under 40°C heat to stay employed.

The 2018 “salary cap” policy triggered capital flight and shuttered nearly 10,000 studios. Since then, a handful of top actors have monopolized the few surviving projects.

“Casting is like ordering takeout,” one producer said. “You pick the most expensive dish or the cheapest special. Nobody wants the middle tier anymore.”

Yu Menglong’s death becomes a moral reckoning

The long-suspected “hidden rules” of China’s entertainment industry are once again under scrutiny. Some netizens sympathize with struggling actors, but most point to the death of Yu Menglong, whose mysterious fate has turned into a cultural reckoning.

Yu Menglong lost his life to this corrupt system,” one Weibo user wrote. “What’s a cold winter compared to that? He was a plaything for Party princelings and capitalists—and they destroyed him.”

Another comment read: “Better to be unemployed than dead! People are raped, killed in ‘accidents,’ sacrificed in blood rituals, and vanish without a trace—erased from the world.”

Others vowed to boycott the entire industry: “As long as the Yu Menglong case remains unresolved, we won’t support Chinese entertainment. Don’t blame us—we’re just trying to protect those we love.”

“If his death isn’t investigated, no one dares to support anyone. People are terrified their favorite stars could meet the same fate. And honestly—life’s hard, the economy’s bad, and we don’t have time for your slow, pointless dramas.”

The Coldest Winter Yet

Insiders say this “winter” is far from over.

Streaming platforms are slashing budgets for long-form dramas, while mid-tier actors—the backbone of the industry—are left with no work.

Actor Jiang Long described his struggle: “When there are no roles, you lose not just income—you lose yourself. Ordering takeout, you think twice before adding extra meat.”

For Yu Qingbin, delivering food was an awakening, not humiliation. “It wasn’t failure—it was clarity. Earning my living with my own hands gave me peace,” he said.

“Maybe that’s the most authentic script of all.”