Friends have been telling me to watch this movie for months, but there was something inside of me that was so scared to watch it. When I watched the trailer a year ago, I felt like if I watched this film, it would break me. There is something so tender and personal about the immigrant story – even if it’s something so many people have lived through.
Although I’m not an immigrant, my parents were. Living as a first-gen in the states is an experience of so many unspoken words. The feelings are just too hard to explain. But I feel like this movie did such a beautiful job of bringing life to these feelings. There’s a scene where Nora, the protagonist, just immigrated to the states and she’s standing outside at her new American school, watching people walk by, seeing friends talking to friends, but she’s alone. She looks around and doesn’t say a word. It’s such a real, beautiful, and painful scene that I think so many first-gens have experienced. You’re there but you’re not really there. You exist but you don’t quite fit. It’s an unspoken language that first gens are fluent in.
But more than just the visual representation of living as a Korean in America, I found the love story between Nora and Hae-Sung to be so tender and heartbreaking. Although I don’t believe in past lives or reincarnation, I felt this idea to be so poignant. You are just one person. Yet, in one lifetime, there are so many versions of yourself. Each one is real and lived. But over time several versions fade away. You’re someone else. The memory of your past version is there, but in a way, once it’s gone, it’s gone forever. I think that was the tragedy between Nora and Hae-Sung. They grew out of their past selves and as a result grew out of each other.
I think as human beings, we have so many versions of ourselves. Each version is awakened by different settings, people, and things. Even smells. It’s like a Korean smelling the distinct smell of 된장 or kimchi and then suddenly start missing their hometown. I think that’s the scent that always did it for me. Or hearing someone speaking Korean at the grocery store. That always reminds me of my mom.
It’s simultaneously discombobulating and yet perfectly normal. For example, when I am with my Korean friends, I am Korean. When I am with my American friends, I am American. Sometimes I can be a mix of these things, but different people bring out different elements of you. You speak differently with your mom than your sister and with an elder versus a friend. It’s so strange but also so brilliant. Can one human beings have this many selves in one body?
I don’t even know why I am posting this. I don’t think I’ve ever devoted an entire blog post to a movie before. But I think I just felt so moved by this movie. I saw so much of myself in Nora. I think Nora is so many of us Korean Americans that always felt like we have to lose a part of ourselves no matter who we are with or where we are living. It is a painful beauty which I feel like this movie portrayed exquisitely.
I think this movie was simply an experience of remembering that to be human is to feel. And as I get older, I’m realizing there have been more and more moments of this strange feeling that is equal parts pain and beauty, redemption and sorrow, joy and loss. It is a funny thing, life. It’s never really one thing, is it? It’s a slow burn and yet a whirlwind. An adventure and yet a tragedy. This silly, wonderful, painful thing called life.
Hopeful Song Blog 