Dear You
The compelling aspect of “Dear You” is how it is a rich film about a multitude of different experiences. It’s about long-distance relationships, making sure family is taken care of, and things done out of love and empathy. When the film begins, we expect one type of film, but gradually, Hongchun Lan’s film becomes something very different. And I was in tears by the end.
We begin in the present day. Iap Sogriu (Shaoqing Wu) is a wife, a mother, and a grandmother. She has not seen her husband, Den Bhagseng (Yantong Wang), since he fled to Southeast Asia in the 1950s to escape forced conscription during Civil War. She has raised her family by herself, though for many years, Bhagseng had sent remittance letters (known as qiaopi) with money and other goods to take care of Sogriu and their family. In 1978, the letters stopped, and the last thing she received was a photo of him with a young woman and what looked like a family; the rest of the letter was washed away in a typhoon- the photo was all the letter carrier was able to save. For decades, the implication was that Bhagseng had remarried, and become wealthy; several schools in Thailand were named after him. Now an old woman, Sogriu has lived long with that belief. Her grandson, Hiou-ui (Runqi Zheng), is in massive debt, and he is committed to finding his grandfather, in hopes of getting some money to get out of that debt. But when he discovers that Bhagseng died in 1960, so many questions arise. All lead back to the young woman in the picture, Zia Lamgi (Sitong Li). What he discovers is transformative truth.
We’ve seen several films about discovering the truth about the past in families over the years. One of the things that makes “Dear You” so interesting is how, not long into the movie (written by Lan, Leng Yang, Xuanxuan Zheng and Liyun Zhu), it largely abandons the modern day trappings of the narrative to put us into when Sogriu, Bhagseng and Lamgi were young, and how their lives progressed, and how the truths we now know came to be. “Dear You’s” overarching concept is to show how qiaopi became a lifeline for families to communicate, and be supported by loved ones overseas. We see the offices in which they are sent, and that they were sent with a variety of purposes. The bulk of the film focuses on Bhagseng’s time in Bangkok, first as a Rickshaw driver, and then secretly teaching local children how to speak Chinese. He meets Lamgi when he’s secretly staying at her family’s hostel. Eventually, they become friends. Eventually, the hostel is burned down, and Bhagseng loses everything, and is imprisoned when he attacks the people responsible. That is when the qiaopi begins, with Lamgi sending them to Sogriu for him until he gets out of prison, and can send them himself when he buys a riverboat to try and pay off his debts.
So why do the qiaopi continue after Bhagseng’s death, and why do they suddenly stop in 1978? That is best left for the film to tell you. The film’s lead ultimately becomes Lamgi, and Sitong Li gives an absolutely wonderful performance as a young woman who inadvertently becomes central to another family’s lives, and who continues the legacy of a friend without really living her own life. That last part is partially true, although she does become responsible for a life of her own, and it’s that life who reveals the truth to Hiou-ui. At a certain point, “Dear You” went from very good storytelling to profoundly emotional filmmaking, as the weight of Lamgi’s choices, and the realities that had long been hidden from Sogriu, become overwhelming on all sides. The final act of the film left me deeply in my feels; the empathy shown on all sides leads to changed lives throughout the film’s characters. “Dear You” is about helping those closest to us, even if we’ve never met them before in our lives. It is a film to remind us of how good simple acts can be for the soul.
