After Yang (2022) Review!!

Synopsis – In a near future, a family reckons with questions of love, connection, and loss after their A.I. helper unexpectedly breaks down.

My Take – Though stories set around robotic beings pondering on what it means to be a human have been the basis of many sci-fi films, this latest film from powerhouse production company A24, which has gained a status for only backing aesthetically beautiful and artistically directed ventures, takes a step further by adding grief exploration and memory into the familiar sounding setting.

Marking the second feature from South Korean filmmaker Kogonada, after his acclaimed 2017 feature debut, the John Cho-starring Columbus, the film, adapted from Alexander Weinstein’s short story, Saying Goodbye to Yang, is an excellent and profound sincere study of what it means to be a family, to be loved, and how important it is to remember where we come from.

While the film has some pacing issues, it showcases director Kogonada’s penchant for sparse storytelling, folded into stunning visually engrossing cinematography and backed by Aska Matsumiya and Ryuichi Sakamoto‘s unforgettable tear-inducing score, hereby rewarding the viewer with a contemplative, inspirational cinematic experience, despite the absent blockbuster tropes.

Set in the not-too-distant future in an unnamed city, the story follows Jake (Colin Farrell), the proprietor of a specialized tea shop, who lives a decent family life with his scientist wife, Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith), their adopted daughter Mika (Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja), and Yang (Justin H. Min), a techno-sapien, who is more than just a glorified humanoid android to little Mika.

Purchased as a sort of nanny, big brother and a cultural touchstone for Mika to stay connect with her Chinese roots, over the years Yang became an integral part of the family’s lives as well, with Jake often referring to him as his son. Hence, when Yang unexpectedly malfunctions one day, his disappearance creates a void, and leaves Jake with lingering questions, especially as evidence emerges of the surprisingly complex inner life Yang led.

Much of the film follows Jake’s efforts to have Yang repaired, as he eventually discovers that the android had been recording memories and starts to play them back at home. It is through this process that Jake begins to reckon with the reality of losing Yang, whose presence he’d taken for granted, and parses the complexities of his connection to the android. He even meets Yang’s friend, Ada (Haley Lu Richardson), and gains a companion in both his grief and journey for a solution.

The dance sequence that appears as the credits roll at the beginning is an unexpected element of the film but adds an exciting texture that reels the audience in further. Much of the film is told through memories, especially Yang, whose malfunction comes immediately in the film.

We see him teach Mika about China and demonstrate how she fits into her family, even if she is adopted. We see him connect with Jake through his passion, tea, and fill in for Kyra when she works late. Yang comes across as incredibly human, he is everything a sister would want in a brother and everything a parent would want in a son.

Losing Yang hits the family hard, even though he was a purchase, a piece of machinery brought into the home. This turns the film into a different kind of story altogether, a meditation on grief, the passage of time, and touched by themes of adoption, mortality and loneliness, it also explores the delicate preservation of our very existence in the fragile webs of memory.

Though you can see remnants of the natural disasters and man-made calamities that once devastated the larger world, the family’s grief and the emotional dystopia it creates within their home is what the film is most focused on.

And after a while the idea that Yang might actually never power up just becomes heartbreaking to watch. The film has an undercurrent of melancholy, a wistful acceptance that moving toward anything means leaving something else behind.

It charts a related understanding that of loss so profound it leads you to step outside your surroundings and see them in a different light. Through its hushed portrait of loss and reclamation, the film also predicts a powerful very near future in which people are more intimate with technology than they are with their own family.

Few films have ever felt so knowing or non-judgmental towards the love that we divert onto material things, and even fewer have so earnestly speculated that those things might be able to love us back. And for all of its seriousness and focus on death, the film is also a strikingly gorgeous that frequently teases out just enough of its outside world to make you want to know more about it.

Colin Farrell brings a somber, and internalized performance to the film, which is very reminiscent to the sardonic deadpan he brought in The Lobster (2015). A composed turn well supported by a watchful and furrowed Jodie Turner-Smith and a heartbreaking yet cheerful newcomer Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja.

Justin H. Min is the heart of the film, and immediately leaves a crucially lasting impression right from the beginning. Minh and Tjandrawidjaja have a sort of palpable, natural chemistry that feels authentic between close siblings. In smaller roles, Haley Lu Richardson, Sarita Choudhury, Ritchie Coster and Clifton Collins Jr. manage to create an impact. On the whole, ‘After Yang’ is a warm and alluring sci-fi stunner that hits emotions flawlessly.