Riceboy Sleeps is the second feature length film by Vancouver-based actor and filmmaker Anthony Shim. Originally from Seoul, South Korea, in the film Shim tells a personal story of migration and cross-cultural growing pains, following the lives of mother So-young (played by Choi Seung-yoon), and son Dong-hyun (Dohyun Noel Hwang as a child; Ethan Hwang as a teenager). Based on experiences from Shim’s own life, Riceboy Sleeps explores above all else the desire to connect when language fails us.
The film begins with the story of So-young’s immigration to the west coast of Canada. In Seoul, So-young was deeply in love with her husband Han Won-Shick, but her life was torn apart by his mental illness and eventual suicide. In the wake of this loss, So-young and her infant son immigrate to British Columbia, So-young bringing with her the twin trauma of losing one’s life partner and birthplace at once. This carries into So-young’s life in Vancouver, specifically small-town Vancouver — I recognized several scenes filmed in Pitt Meadows, where I grew up — where So-young’s protectiveness of her son and refusal to passively tolerate racism is seen by the parents and teachers at her son’s school as a problem with her that needs to be fixed. She teaches Dong-hyun to fight back against his bullies, threatening them with taekwondo. When this results in Dong-hyun being suspended from elementary school, while the administration refuses to discipline his bullies, So-young challenges the principal: ”What about emotional violence?” she implores — to no avail; mother and son exit the school dejected. In the car, So-young cleans Dong-hyun’s glasses, an act of care, and tells him about her own experiences retaliating against sexual harassment at work with a clear message: don’t ever let anyone do that to you.
The second and longest of the film’s three acts takes place in Dong-hyun’s late teenage years. He sheds his glasses for contacts, natural dark hair for blond dye, and the Korean spoken at home for English with his friends. Feeling disconnected from her son, So-young attempts to communicate through cooking: in the film, the sharing of meals acts both as an expression of love and an attempt at conversation. A new man in her life, Simon (played by writer and director Anthony Shim), attempts to insert himself into the family through goodwill and polite language. Dong-hyun resists, as So-young does at first, until a sudden cancer diagnosis forces her to reconsider her and her son’s future. The revelation that his mother is sick, and will probably not live to see him grow up, provokes Dong-hyun to reconnect with his mother, and they decide, together, that it is time to go back to South Korea.
The film’s final third is where Riceboy Sleeps comes alive. Upon arriving in Korea, the prominent lush green mountains resonate with those of the Pacific Northwest, presenting the characters with a fresh canvas upon which they may reinvent their relationship. When the two visit the house of Dong-hyun’s paternal grandparents, it is clear that the family is holding on to much unprocessed pain. Communication during their intimate dinner is fitful but gratifying; Dong-hyun’s broken Korean finds a welcoming ear in his grandfather and uncle, or 작은아버지 (little father), as his uncle teaches him. Drinking together, Dong-hyun is taught the traditions of a Korean meal, and So-young’s face softens into a rare state of calm.
Through spending time with his grandparents, Dong-hyun learns more about his father, who he has never known, and by doing so, Dong-hyun finally opens up and is able to connect with So-young. He is able to empathise with what she went through, and why she is the way she is as a parent. In the film’s climax, Dong-hyun literally carries his mother up a mountain to visit his father’s grave. Despite her sickness, So-young screams off the top of the mountain in both joy and pain, evoking a powerful affirmation of life. As she continues her wave of catharsis, the film’s soaring musical score floods the scene, connecting her and Dong-hyun emotionally as he watches his mother finally let go of the past.
Though Riceboy Sleeps is surely reflective of the experience of many Korean immigrants to Canada, writer-director Anthony Shim is not aiming to tell anyone’s story but his own. In interviews, Shim has revealed just how autobiographical the story is — a personal lens which comes across in the film’s engaging dialogue and mannered camerawork — cinematographer Christopher Lew shoots in wide lens tapestries with a camera that moves only when it needs to. The film’s score, by Andrew Yong Hoon Lee, is also crucial to the film’s success, bridging complicated emotional moments with expansive synth soundscapes.1 The film’s message on communication, and on the search for belonging, seems to be that it is lifelong work: Dong-hyun will have to fight just as So-young did, but hopefully he will learn from her experience and turn it into strength — with a mix of tenderness and perseverance that can weather any storm.
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- Lee’s 2017 album All of My Bodies, produced under the moniker Holy Hum, also explores these themes, taking the form of an elegy to his own father’s passing.
This article was originally published in ReIssue.
Image courtesy of TIFF