“Tackles this subject matter with an almost touching sincerity.”

“A new life is easier said than done.”

When the immigrant experience reaches Western shores on film, it is usually regional: the stories deal with migrants in Europe or the US, people seeking a better economic position, or fleeing from war or persecution. But of course these stories aren’t specific to the West; every part of the world has its political or economic refugees. One particular case is highlighted in Danish director Frederik Sølberg’s debut feature, Hana Korea, which is counter-intuitively set in South Korea. Perhaps it was Denmark’s tough migration laws that inspired Sølberg to make this film (which is based on various real-life experiences), but despite the seemingly odd combination of director and subject matter, Sølberg’s film shows that people’s experience with moving to another country not entirely by free will is universal. A tad too melodramatic towards the end, but with a disarming central performance and a nuanced look at the differences between North and South Korea, Hana Korea is both a soothing and an affecting drama that should travel further than Busan.

Hyesun (Minha Kim, mostly known for her television work) has fled North Korea, leaving behind a sickly parent who needs medicine to survive. Hyesun’s goal is to make money abroad so she can provide for her mother back home, a mother she is unlikely to ever see in the flesh again. After a short time living in China, in what later will turn out to be a living nightmare, she has saved up enough to take a flight to South Korea. Seeking political asylum, she has to go through a rigorous and spartan immigration process, but eventually is granted access to the country and made a citizen of ‘the South’, as she and her fellow North Korean refugees call the country.

Hyesun moves to Seoul with her newfound friends and fellow refugees Bomyi (Seohyun An) and Sookhee (Jooryoung Kim), starts nursing school and takes a job in a Spanish restaurant to save up money for her mother. Her “I love paella” during the job interview doesn’t sound too convincing, but the owner’s son takes a liking to her. Hyesun soon learns that life in the ‘free’ South isn’t all that she expected it to be; life is a grind, and the abuse she suffered in China isn’t unique to that country. At least her job allows her to save money to send home, but a sketchy ‘uncle’ in Seoul that can arrange this withholds news about her mother until she pays up. Will her money arrive in time for her mother to survive?

Sølberg tells this story without much directorial flourish outside a subtle brightening of the image and introducing more colour as Hyesun’s arc progresses, otherwise letting the story and the audience’s empathy for its protagonist do the heavy lifting, while giving Minha Kim ample space to show a full dramatic range and considerable talent as the shy but determined protagonist. Hana Korea isn’t overly melodramatic until its final stretch, when Jonas Bjerre’s score really does its utmost to elicit tears, but Hyesun’s final breakdown on a beach in Busan, not far from the festival multiplex where the film is playing, is restrained enough to not take the drama over the top. A relief, because in its earlier acts the film gave a well-rounded look at Korean society and its harsher edges, especially for a newcomer. No doubt Hyesun’s life in Seoul will be better than in Pyongyang, but the idealized image she had from South Korean soap operas (smuggled into the North on USB sticks) is shattered as she is faced with a gruelling work ethic, naked racism, and sexual harassment.

The screenplay does include some dead weight in the form of superfluous and unresolved plot strands or irrelevant scenes, but in general gives a nuanced insight into the differences between the two Koreas without resorting to a simple ‘good vs. bad’ dichotomy. If we move this idea to Sølberg’s Denmark, immigrants will likely have the same experience: the paradise that they expected because it was promised to them, the idealized picture they had of the free and prosperous West, in reality is just another place where you have to grind your way to a better life, if that’s at all possible despite the many drawbacks being an immigrant brings with it. In that sense, Hana Korea is a nice reminder of the universality of this message, and even if the film isn’t going to light the world on fire, it’s nice to see a muted Korean drama (albeit directed by a Dane) tackle this subject matter with an almost touching sincerity, seen through the eyes of a talented actress who deserves to be cast in bigger projects.

Image copyright: Stepanie Stål Axelgård