There have been few better examples of a filmmaker immediately announcing themselves as a major talent than this year, when Davy Chou introduced the world to the absolutely astonishing and deeply profound Return to Seoul (French: Retour à Séoul), a film that immediately and without any hesitation becomes of the year’s greatest artistic achievements in terms of narrative cinema. It isn’t Chou’s directorial debut (his previous short subject and documentary work was supremely well-received, as was his feature-length debut, Diamond Island, a film I will be seeking out with the most severe urgency), but it is the one that establishes him as one of the most exciting and important young directors working today. Driven by a clear vision that is defined by a concise, direct and unflinchingly honest depiction of the experiences faced by a very specific portion of the global population, the film is extraordinarily complex, functioning as a detailed and complex depiction of adoption in a way that we have yet to see. It’s not often we find a film that is so precise with its emotions, but also somehow deeply compelling in how it develops a story that is both thrilling and complex, which is all part of the reason it is so difficult to not fall under the spell of this film, which is a poignant and earnest examination of identity, told through the perspective of someone who represents a group of people who go out in search of answers, knowing that they may never know the reasons for one of the biggest life choices that was made for them from before they were even old enough to register such changes. Chou is a major talent, and Return to Seoul is one of the most astonishing breakthrough films of the year, which is all the more impactful considering this is not a film that necessarily lends itself to a lot of forced attention, being the kind of artwork that is best experienced when it is discovered, which is perfect considering how many surprises lurk beneath the surface of this astonishing film.

Chou’s identity as an artist has always been drawn from his shared Cambodian and French heritage, and while the story at the heart of Return to Seoul is not autobiographical in the traditional sense, he is taking inspiration from his own experiences as the son of immigrants, growing up in France but having inextricable ties to his ancestral land of Cambodia, which is here replaced with South Korea, likely to tie into the theme of exploring one’s identity in a country that has drawn a lot of attention due to western interest in its culture, a recent development that Chou is not afraid to explore in significant detail. There is a quietness that informs this film and makes it so beautifully poetic – it had many opportunities to be melodramatic and excessive (since it certainly had a story that lends itself to more lavish emotions), but it remains stoic and detailed, finding nuance in the more quiet moments, which is where the director places some of the most important bursts of narrative and thematic energy, which gives the film a very peculiar tone that works in its favour – we never quite know where it is going to venture, and the leaps forward in time are unexpected but worthwhile, taking Return to Seoul from a simple adoption drama in a decade-spanning existential odyssey in which we see someone quietly navigate her entire life, questioning not only the past, but her future in a world in which she is fervently trying to find her place. All of this is neatly tied together in a film that feels so incredibly beautiful, but with a jagged edge that keeps it from being complacent or as overly simplistic as its premise makes it seem. There are several moments of genuinely unsettling detail that the protagonist uncovers that feel remarkably complex and shade in many of the more ambigious qualities of this film, which works with a slightly more vague set of ideas as it pursues a deeply moving and intellectually stimulating examination of a young woman’s psychological and emotional journey undertaken for the simple reason of unearthing the truth about her past, the existence of which is constantly called into question throughout the narrative.

The most significant aspect of Return to Seoul that warrants our attention, outside of Chou’s remarkable writing and direction, is the performance we find at the heart of the film. NAME gives quite possibly the most exceptional performance of the year, taking on the role of a young woman who has to grapple with the realities that come with actively pursuing her birth parents, which proves to be a much more laborious experience than she anticipated, and doesn’t incite the catharsis she may have expected. Park is absolutely extraordinary in the film – it’s been a while since we’ve seen a performance that was this layered and simmering with detail, and she makes sure that every moment is worthwhile and complex in a way that slowly reveals the inner nuances that define the character. It’s such a beautifully poetic performance that matches the tone of the film so well, and whether sitting in quiet contemplation (her face expressing every intimate detail that propels the film) or developing the character through movement and dance, there’s so much to be said about this performance, which is amongst the very best of the year. Park was not a professional actor before Chou cast her in the film, but yet she acts with a natural charisma and complexity that suggests that true talent can never be taught, and is usually found in the most unexpected of locations – who would have thought this young sculptor with very little prior experience would be able to not only lead this powerful character study, but do so in a way that is magnetic and undeniably poignant? Every moment we spend with the character of NAME feels special, since we’re watching her not only navigate her identity, but change as an individual – the person we encounter at the start is not necessarily the same by the end of the film, which is a credit to both the brilliant writing and directing, which spends a decent amount of time developing on these details, and Park’s stunning performance, which takes advantage of every moment to construct Freddie into one of the most interesting individuals in the past cinematic year, quite an achievement considering the sheer wealth of astonishing performance we’ve come across over the past few months, this one standing head and shoulders above nearly all of them.

The theme of homecoming simmers throughout every frame of Return to Seoul, which is especially true when we look at how the development of the main character is all done along the lines of exploring her inability to find a home, at least spiritually, since she is caught between worlds. In France, she is an outsider due to being adopted from South Korea, while in the country of her birth, she struggles to fit in – her knowledge of the language is minimal (limited to only a few phrases she learns over the years), and even over the time in which the film is set, which covers roughly a decade in her life, she never quite finds a sense of belonging, neither in her native country nor the one in which she grew up. Identity is a vital concept that informs the vast majority of the film – the original title was All The People I’ll Never Be, a beautiful and evocative summary of the story’s fundamental themes, particularly in how we watch the protagonist navigate the challenges of realizing that she will never truly find the sense of comfort that she so desperately craves, or at least not until she finally embraces the fact that her identity is defined through being composed of a number of small fragments, rather than a single linear legacy that guides her life, which is often a common experience for those who are adopted and taken to other countries, especially those with a culture radically different from the child’s homeland. There isn’t much done in Return to Seoul that we haven’t seen in other films before – it isn’t a matter of the story doing or saying anything we haven’t previously encountered, but rather the manner in which it takes these familiar fragments and reconfigures them into something a lot more intriguing, one that emphasizes some of the more mysterious aspects of the story and intentionally refuses to give us answers to some of the more puzzling questions, which turns this filminto such an actively engaging, complex experience that is aware of its ambiguity, effectively using them in this perpetually fascinating character study about searching for identity in an environment (both physical and emotional) that is both familiar and unsettling.

Return to Seoul is a slow-burning, reflective meditation on a number of very complex themes, each one tenderly explored by a director who spends a considerable amount of time developing ideas that are not revolutionary in the sense that they are bespoke to this film, but are portrayed in a way that feels almost revelatory, which is a remarkable achievement for any filmmaker, let alone one who is relatively new in comparison to the more seasoned veterans who may not have been able to achieve such a raw, gritty command of the human condition as we see demonstrated here. It’s a film built on a few key ideas, each one contributing to a deeper understanding of the human condition as Chou sees it – he’s not misanthropic, but he refuses to adhere to the idea that life is in any way easy, at least not for those who are undergoing any kind of existential quandary, which is precisely what controls this film and makes it such a curious and provocative experience. It is undeniably a challenging work – the director doesn’t seem interested in portraying the story in a way that is easily digestible or entirely straightforward, instead crafting a masterful example of a mood piece, a film driven by the atmosphere, through which we encounter a series of episodic moments in the life of the main character, who is voyaging through life, piecing together fragments of the past in her perpetual endeavour to reconstruct her identity, while simultaneously reinventing herself constantly, in the hopes that she will eventually fall into a place where she is finally comfortable with who she is and where she comes from, which is a challenge for nearly any individual who has ever felt the inevitable sense of displacement that many experiences. Return to Seoul is one of the year’s best films, and its masterful command of every aspect of its story, from conception to execution, is beyond admirable, and proves that Chou is someone to watch, even more now that he has finally emerges as the unique and provocative cinematic voice that continues to push boundaries and disrupt the conventions we all tend to take for granted, which form the foundation for this incredibly poignant and deeply meaningful character study.