It didn't come as a surprise. The Way We Are, Hui's small-budget art flick about a single mother and her elderly neighbor in a Hong Kong residential district has been sweeping award ceremonies. But as the Media Awards' organizer pointed out, this latest addition to her already crowded shelf of trophies was actually the very first because the votes were tallied in March, long before the other honors.

Days and Nights in Tin Shui Wai, the movie's title in Chinese, nabbed best picture, best director for Ann Hui, best supporting actress for Chan Lai-wun and the title "Filmmaker of the Year" for Hui.

All this for a movie that cost 1.3 million HK dollars ($1.7 million) and took 15 days to shoot. Moreover, the movie does not have much of a plot, let alone car chases and a heart-throbbing soundtrack. Yet, many people were so touched that they saw something bigger, something that reflected the essence of Chinese humanity.

I, for one, am one of the movie's biggest supporters. I don't have much patience for plotless, tedious art films that pretend to convey social significance. I thought this was one of those movies when it opened with Mrs Cheung and her teenage son going about their business and barely conversing. When Granny Leung appeared, I thought the drama was about to unfold. But no. She was not turned down by the supermarket for a job. There would be no misunderstanding between the two neighbors.

Then I realized this could be the best Hong Kong movie since Infernal Affairs. It may look like a regular documentary-style art flick, but it has the audacity to present the most typical - and also most positive - of Chinese societal dynamics without resorting to a dramatic setup. It's not boring and pretentious at all. Instead, it has distilled life and art to their very essence so that they merge seamlessly.

Human relationships in traditional Chinese society do not rely much on verbal communication. "Love" is a word hardly found on anyone's lips. There seems to be a certain aloofness between Mrs Cheung and her son. Yet, this is exactly how most Chinese families interact, especially across generations. The son does not rebel; he may not ace the all-important exam; and life goes on.

Cheung's relationship with her new neighbor seems a bit warmer, and yet it reaches only the level of Miss Daisy and her black driver. When she finally accepts an expensive gift from the parsimonious old lady, it was just like Miss Daisy telling her driver he had been her "best friend" all along. Everything was embodied in a few simple words or a glance.

The background provides the necessary detail to explain Mrs Cheung's way of life. Raised poor, she began earning money for her family so that her younger brother could afford a good education. Now when the two families get together and play mahjong, there are traces of income inequality.

Her niece and nephew talk about life in New York, where they attend school, while her own son may flunk the college exam and become a blue-collar worker, just like her. Just when you expect a confrontation and accusations of ingratitude, the young brother takes the boy aside and offers to pay for his tuition for overseas study.

Chinese people may not rush to charity events but it doesn't mean there's less love to spread around. Our way of expressing love is different.

This movie, which Ann Hui self-effacingly explained "is not that deep", struck a chord because it gives us our best side. (Hui has made a follow-up, Night and Fog, which depicts family tragedies in the same residential area and will presumably focus on the dark side of humanity.)

For outsiders who want to decode the Chinese enigma of communication, this is an ideal primer.