Kogonada's "AFTER YANG"
Movie review by Dennis D. McDonald
There is a class of movies that treats the question of what it means to be human in the face of alien or artificial intelligence as its basic premise and plays out that theme in creative, original, or artistic ways.
After Yang is one of the best I’ve seen in that genre. It’s slow paced and takes its time in revealing its story and how its characters react to each other and the basic event that serves as the plot’s foundation: a family’s humanoid robot has died. Its owners struggle to repair it since their little girl has grown up believing it is her brother. In the course of the movie family and societal backstories are revealed through natural and artificially stored memories. Some are revelatory or emotionally engaging. Others are disturbing. Viewers hoping for action or histrionics will find instead subtlety, drama, and very controlled tension. It’s as if the director has orchestrated an entire film both dramatically and visually to remove any sharp edges that might detract from the underlying themes.
The movie is beautiful to look at. Color and camera work are subtle. They make the most of a purposely limited series of sets that manage to place the film in a future where technologies we take for granted have for the most part blended into daily life.
I saw this on a 55” screen and am curious about what it might look like in a real theater. It is clear that much work has gone into details such as sets, costumes, and the occasionally gorgeous special effects that represent memories. (Significantly, playback of digitally stored memories is often clearer and more vibrant than daily life.)
Actor performances are wonderful. Standouts are Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja as the little girl and Colin Farrell as the dad. (It’s amazing to realize that the latter is the same actor that portrayed the outrageously coarse “Penguin” in The Batman.)
Had I seen this movie last year I would definitely have included it in my list of the best movies I saw in 2023.
Review copyright (c) 2024 by Dennis D. McDonald
