Frederik Sølberg’s “Hana Korea” is a delicate yet piercing portrayal of displacement, survival, and the fragile act of starting over. Told through the eyes of Hyesun (Minha Kim), a young North Korean woman who flees across the border to earn money for her ailing mother’s medication, the film captures the stark paradox of liberation. This is a story of how freedom can feel both exhilarating and devastating when tethered to the weight of a life left behind.
Hyesun undergoes three months of resettlement training at Hanawon, a South Korean cultural integration center designed for defectors. Here she learns the mechanics of modern democracy and daily life, simple tasks like how to open a bank account, use a credit card, and navigate an ATM. For Hyesun and the women surrounding her, each lesson underscores the cultural whiplash of entering a modern society from one of the world’s most isolated nations. Solberg leans into these moments of disorientation without sensationalism, instead presenting them with restraint and empathy, revealing both the surreal humor and the quiet humiliation embedded in re-learning how to live.
The emotional punch of the narrative comes from Hyesun’s spoken “letters” to her mother, which serve as intimate monologues that map her shifting states of hope, guilt, and grief. When news of her mother’s death reaches her (just weeks after she has managed to save enough to send money home), the film’s quiet momentum breaks open into raw sorrow. Solberg resists melodrama and instead opts to dwell in the silence.
The performances, particularly from the ensemble of women at Hanawon, are the heartbeat of the film. Each character carries the scars of arduous journeys, and while the narrative centers Hyesun, the collective presence of these women amplifies the story’s authenticity. Their metered, unadorned portrayals echo the documentary-like rhythm of the film. In this sense, the film feels less like a fictionalized story and more like an offering of space for lived experiences that rarely reach mainstream cinema.
“Hana Korea” is not just a story about cultural shock or integration, but one about the price of freedom, how hope is often accompanied by mourning, and how survival necessitates both reinvention and reconciliation. By centering a single young woman’s journey and framing it within a broader chorus of refugee voices, Solberg has created a film that is as intimate as it is political. This one refuses to simplify the messy, contradictory realities of displacement and forgetting where you came from.
By: Louisa Moore
Screen Zealots 