The Pig, the Snake, and the Pigeon 周處除三害 (2023): Why You Should Watch This Chinese-Language (Mandarin/Taiwanese) Film

There is a question that lingers long after the credits roll:

Can a bad man do good things for the wrong reasons and still be redeemed?

The Pig, the Snake, and the Pigeon (周處除三害) is the film that dares to ask it. Released in 2023, this Taiwanese crime thriller became a phenomenon — not just in Taiwan, but across the Chinese-speaking world. It has been called "the most surprising Taiwanese film in years" and "a violent,荒诞 (absurdist) masterpiece that redefines the anti-hero genre."

And yet, many people still haven't seen it.

Today, I want to change that.

What Is The Pig, the Snake, and the Pigeon (周處除三害)?

English Title: The Pig, the Snake, and the Pigeon

Original Title: 周處除三害

Year: 2023

Director: Wong Ching-po (黃精甫)

Screenwriter: Wong Ching-po

Cast: Ruan Jingtian (阮經天) as Chen Guilin, Wang Jing (王淨) as Cheng Xiaomei, Chen Yifan (陳以文) as Lin Luhe (The尊者), Yuan Fuwen (袁富華) as The Hong Konger

Language: Mandarin / Taiwanese Hokkien

Runtime: 134 minutes

Box Office: Over 400 million RMB (China mainland only)

Awards (Selected):

• Best Actor (Ruan Jingtian) — 26th Taipei Film Awards
• Best Action Choreography — 26th Taipei Film Awards
• Nominated for Best Film, Best Director, Best Actor — 60th Golden Horse Awards

But numbers don't tell the full story. This is a film that sparked debates, inspired countless video essays, and left audiences arguing about its ending for weeks. It is violent, poetic,荒诞, and strangely beautiful.

The Ancient Story Behind the Title

The title comes from a classical Chinese tale found in the Shishuo Xinyu (世說新語), a collection of historical anecdotes from the 5th century.

Here's the original story:

During the Jin Dynasty, a young man named Zhou Chu (周處) lived in Yixing. He was strong, brave, and completely out of control — bullying villagers, starting fights, and terrorizing the countryside. The people of Yixing considered him one of the "three scourges" of the region, along with a ferocious tiger in the mountains and a deadly dragon in the river.

One day, a village elder suggested that Zhou Chu go kill the tiger and the dragon. Zhou Chu agreed. He killed the tiger easily. Then he jumped into the river to fight the dragon. He battled the beast for three days and three nights, drifting dozens of miles downstream.

When the villagers saw that Zhou Chu had not returned, they assumed he had died fighting the dragon. They celebrated in the streets — finally, all three scourges were gone.

But then Zhou Chu emerged from the river, battered but alive. When he heard the villagers celebrating his death, he realized, for the first time, that he was also a scourge. Filled with shame, he sought out two famous scholars and asked how he could change. They told him: "If you truly want to reform, even if you die tomorrow, it is not too late."

Zhou Chu did reform. He became a respected general and a loyal servant of the state. He died in battle, serving his country.

The original story is about self-awareness and redemption. A man discovers his own evil, and through effort and guidance, transforms himself.

Director Wong Ching-po took this ancient framework and placed it in modern-day Taiwan. But he changed one crucial thing: in the original story, Zhou Chu survives and becomes a hero. In the film, the protagonist does not survive. And whether he becomes a hero — that is the question the film leaves for you to answer.

The Modern Story: Chen Guilin

The film opens with a scene that tells you exactly who the protagonist is.

Chen Guilin (Ruan Jingtian) walks into a gangster's funeral. While dozens of armed men stand guard, he calmly walks to the front, pulls out a gun, and shoots the deceased's successor in the head. Then he walks out, gets into a car, and drives away.

No hesitation. No explanation. Just violence.

We learn that Chen Guilin is a mid-level triad enforcer. He has killed people. He is wanted by the police. He lives in hiding, moving from place to place, caring for his elderly grandmother in a nursing home but unable to visit her.

One day, his underground doctor — Zhang Guiqing — tells him that he has late-stage lung cancer. He has only months to live.

At first, Chen wants to turn himself in. He goes to a temple dedicated to Guan Yu (關聖帝君), the god of loyalty and righteousness, and asks for guidance. He throws divination blocks — the traditional "poe" (擲筊) used in Taiwanese folk religion. He asks: "Should I go to the police?"

He throws. The answer is yes.

He throws again. Yes again.

He throws nine times. Every single time, the answer is yes.

Sweating, trembling, Chen accepts his fate. He goes to the police station to surrender. But when he arrives, he sees a long line of people waiting. And on the wall, he notices the "Most Wanted" list. He is ranked third.

This is the moment that sets the film in motion.

"If I'm going to die," Chen thinks, "I want to be remembered. I want to be number one."

He decides that before he dies, he will hunt down the two criminals ranked above him — "The Hong Konger" (ranked #2) and "Lin Luhe" (ranked #1). He will kill them both. He will become famous. He will not die forgotten.

This is the film's central irony: Chen Guilin's "redemption" begins not from a desire to do good, but from vanity and pride. He doesn't want to save anyone. He wants to be remembered. He is not Zhou Chu — at least, not yet.

The Three Scourges: Pig, Snake, Pigeon

The film's English title reveals its Buddhist framework. In Buddhism, the Three Poisons (三毒) are the root causes of all suffering:

• Pig (豬) — Ignorance (痴) Meaning: Delusion, confusion, not seeing reality Character: Chen Guilin

• Snake (蛇) — Hatred (瞋) Meaning: Anger, violence, aggression Character: The Hong Konger

• Pigeon (鴿) — Greed (貪) Meaning: Craving, attachment, desire Character: Lin Luhe

Chen Guilin wears a pink children's watch with a pig on it. It belonged to his grandmother. He treasures it. But the pig also symbolizes his ignorance — he cannot see his own evil. He thinks he is a hero. He is not.

The Hong Konger has a snake tattooed on his arm. He is violent, quick to rage, and sexually abusive. He keeps a young woman named Cheng Xiaomei as a captive, subjecting her to years of abuse. He is hatred incarnate.

Lin Luhe — the尊者 (Venerable One) — has a pigeon tattooed on his back, hidden beneath his white robes. He runs a spiritual retreat center called the "New Mind House" (新心靈舍). He preaches peace, forgiveness, and detachment from worldly desires. In reality, he is a con artist and a cult leader — greedy, manipulative, and utterly without conscience. He is greed incarnate.

The film's structure is simple: Chen will hunt the snake, then the pigeon. But along the way, he will confront his own pig — his ignorance about who he really is.

Part One: The Snake (Hong Kong)

Chen tracks The Hong Konger to a small coastal town. He watches him from a distance — his patterns, his habits, his weaknesses. He learns that The Hong Konger controls a young woman named Cheng Xiaomei, whose mother went to prison to protect him years ago. Xiaomei has been trapped ever since.

The Hong Konger is paranoid and cruel. When one of his men laughs at something he says, he smashes a bottle over the man's head — seven times. When he discovers Chen watching him, the violence escalates.

The fight between Chen and The Hong Konger is brutal. Knives. Glass. Blood everywhere. Chen kills him — but not before being stabbed in the abdomen with a shard of glass.

Bleeding, exhausted, Chen frees Xiaomei. He takes her to the beach. He tells her she is free. She can go anywhere.

She asks him: "Why are you doing this?"

He doesn't have an answer. Not a good one, anyway.

He is not doing this for her. He is doing this to be number one. But somewhere, in the space between the violence and the silence, something begins to shift.

Part Two: The Pigeon (Lin Luhe)

Chen travels to a remote rural area where Lin Luhe's "New Mind House" is located. He arrives weak, sick, and still bleeding from his wound.

The尊者 welcomes him with open arms. He offers Chen food, shelter, and spiritual guidance. He tells Chen that his illness is a gift — a chance to let go of his past, to become a "new creation" (新造的人).

For a while, Chen believes it.

He attends ceremonies. He sings hymns. He hands over his grandmother's pink pig watch to be burned in the incinerator — a symbol of letting go of attachments. He cries. He feels peace for the first time in years.

But then he discovers the truth.

Hidden beneath the尊者's spiritual facade is a massive underground bunker filled with cash, luxury goods, and surveillance equipment. The尊者 is not a holy man. He is a con artist. He poisons his followers to make them sick, then "heals" them with special water (which is just rice water). He takes their money, their property, and — in some cases — their lives.

When Chen confronts him, the尊者 tries to kill him. Chen is beaten, drugged, and buried alive in a coffin.

He survives.

And when he claws his way out of the grave, covered in dirt and blood, he makes a decision.

The Scene That Shocked Everyone

Chen returns to the New Mind House. He walks into the main hall, where dozens of followers are singing the尊者's hymn. He stands before them and says:

"Anyone who wants to leave, leave now. I'm only here for him."

Some followers leave. Most stay.

Chen shoots the尊者. He shoots him again. And again. He empties the gun into the尊者's body.

Then he turns to the remaining followers.

"Go," he says. "I'm giving you one more chance."

They don't move.

"Go," he says again.

They begin to sing. The same hymn. Louder this time. They are smiling. They are weeping. They will not leave.

Chen reloads the gun.

And then — scene by scene, bullet by bullet — he shoots them all.

This sequence lasts less than three minutes. It has no dialogue, only the haunting melody of the hymn playing over the gunfire. It is beautiful. It is horrific. It is the most controversial scene in recent Taiwanese cinema.

What is the film saying? Is Chen a hero? A monster? Both? Neither?

Critics have debated this endlessly. Some see it as a critique of cult mentality — the followers have been so thoroughly brainwashed that they cannot be saved. Violence is the only language they understand.

Others see it as a descent into madness — Chen has become no better than the criminals he hunted. Killing unarmed believers is not justice. It is murder.

The film refuses to answer. It leaves the question hanging in the air, like smoke from the尊者's burning building.

The Performance: Ruan Jingtian

Let me say this clearly: Ruan Jingtian's performance in The Pig, the Snake, and the Pigeon is one of the best of his career.

He plays Chen Guilin as a man of contradictions. Chen is violent, yes — but he is also childlike. He wears a cheap pink watch. He cries when he thinks of his grandmother. He is bewildered by kindness. He is terrifying and vulnerable, often in the same moment.

Watch his face during the temple scene, when he throws the divination blocks nine times. He starts confident, almost mocking. By the ninth throw, he is trembling. Sweat drips down his face. He looks like a man who has just realized that something bigger than him is in control.

Watch his face in the New Mind House, when he is being "cleansed" of his past. He cries like a child. He wants so badly to believe. And when he discovers the truth, his face does not show anger — it shows heartbreak.

And watch his face at the end, when he is led to his execution. He smiles. A genuine, peaceful smile. He has accepted his fate. He has — perhaps — found peace.

Ruan Jingtian was nominated for Best Actor at the Golden Horse Awards. He should have won.

Why This Film Matters

1. It Reimagines a Classical Story for Modern Times

The original Zhou Chu story is about redemption through awareness. A man discovers his evil, reforms, and lives a good life.

Chen Guilin's story is darker. He never fully reforms. He never fully understands. He kills for fame, not justice. And yet, along the way, he does good things — he frees Xiaomei, he kills a violent criminal, he exposes a dangerous cult.

Is he redeemed? The film says: That's for you to decide.

2. It Confronts the "Three Poisons" — and the "Pig" Within

The Buddhist framework gives the film depth. The Hong Konger (snake/hatred) and the尊者 (pigeon/greed) are obvious villains. But Chen (pig/ignorance) is the film's real subject.

Ignorance, in Buddhism, is the root of all the other poisons. You cannot hate or crave without first being ignorant about the nature of reality. Chen's ignorance is his blindness to his own evil. He thinks he is a hero. He is not.

And yet, the film suggests, even the pig can change — can begin to see. Not fully. Not perfectly. But enough.

3. It Critiques Cults and Groupthink

The New Mind House sequence is the film's most powerful section. It shows how easily people can be manipulated — how kind words and simple rituals can turn into chains. The尊者 is not a cartoon villain. He is gentle. He is persuasive. He believes his own lies.

And the followers? They are not stupid. They are desperate. They have lost children, spouses, jobs. They come to the尊者 looking for hope. And once they are inside, leaving becomes impossible — not because they are locked in, but because admitting they were wrong would destroy them.

This is not just about cults. It is about any system that demands total belief. Politics. Ideology. Even fandom.

4. It Explores the Meaning of "Redemption"

Chen kills the尊者 and his followers. Then he turns himself in. At his trial, he is asked: "Do you have any last words?"

He says: "My name is Chen Guilin. I am number one."

Even at the end, he is still chasing fame. Still wanting to be remembered.

But then — a quiet moment. Cheng Xiaomei visits him in prison. She has cut her hair short. She is free. She thanks him. She tells him she will remember him.

And for the first time, Chen's face softens. He has been seen — not as a killer, not as a hero, but as a person.

He walks to his execution smiling.

Is that redemption? The film doesn't say. But it suggests that redemption, if it exists, is not about public glory. It is about private, quiet connections — one person seeing another, and choosing to remember.

The Scene That Broke Me

I want to describe one scene. If you watch nothing else, watch this.

After the尊者 is dead and the followers are dead, Chen walks out of the New Mind House. He is covered in blood. He is limping. He looks like a ghost.

He walks to the beach. He sits down. He looks at the ocean.

And then — for the first time in the film — he cries. Not from pain. Not from fear. From something else. Something he cannot name.

He has killed the snake and the pigeon. He has freed the captive and exposed the liar. He has done everything he set out to do.

And yet, he is alone.

The camera pulls back. The waves crash. The sun sets.

It is beautiful. It is devastating. It is, I think, the film's truest moment — a man confronting the emptiness at the center of his own heroic quest.

Final Thoughts

The Pig, the Snake, and the Pigeon (周處除三害) is not a comfortable film. It is violent. It is unsettling. It does not offer easy answers.

But it is honest. It is beautiful. And it will stay with you.

The film asks hard questions:

• Can a bad man do good things for the wrong reasons?
• Does redemption require transformation, or is intention enough?
• Are some people beyond saving? Beyond forgiveness?
• And — most painfully — what if the person beyond saving is you?

The original Zhou Chu story ends with a man becoming a hero. This film ends with a man becoming a corpse. And yet, somehow, it also ends with hope.

Not hope that Chen Guilin is saved. But hope that change is possible — even if it comes too late, even if it is incomplete, even if no one is watching.

If you love cinema. If you love films that challenge you. If you want to see what Taiwanese cinema is capable of — watch The Pig, the Snake, and the Pigeon.

Bring tissues. But also, bring questions.

Tom De · The Movie Prince 🎬

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