Home video-style documentary about Yang Yong-hi's parents, and what diaspora and Pyongyang means to both them and the director who are Koreans living in Japan. When she states, "I now know what Pyongyang means to my father", a part of me didn't understand that concluding line. This film is very personal yet as a Korean person in Canada, there were a lot of feelings I shared with this film.
I don't think I could watch this film with another person around; it made me cry too much. This is a document of many kinds of love, all very palpable: love for lost possibilities, love of music (memories of a man who couldn't live without his Beethoven on headphones, a piano played by candlelight in Pyongyang), lovingly made boxes for survival, love for an ailing father.