A Forgotten People: The Sakhalin Koreans. Directed by Dai Sil Kim-Gibson. 1995. 1/2 Video, Color. 59 min. Distributed by National Asian American Telecommunications Association (NAATA), 346 Ninth St., 2nd Fl., San Francisco, CA 94103. 16mm Film. $265. Video Rental: $75. Film Rental: $150. During final years of Korea's occupation by Japan, over 40,000 Koreans were sent-many forcibly conscripted-to work as laborers on southern Sakhalin Island, then a Japanese territory. When World War II came to an end, however, and all Sakhalin fell under Soviet rule, political circumstances prevented these displaced unfortunates from returning to their homeland, and their plight has since been largely ignored by outside world. A Forgotten People: The Sakhalin Koreans, a film written, directed and produced by Dai Sil Kim-Gibson, devotes itself to allowing their moving story to be heard. The opening sequence pans slowly over attractive forested hillsides of Sakhalin, but beauty of land belies horror of stories recounted. As a plaintive soundtrack of classical Korean music sets a melancholy mood, encounter a litany of harrowing tales: interviewees describe how they were snatched from their families as young men and sent to a distant land to further imperial Japanese war effort. Their accounts tell of frequent beatings and appalling living conditions, marked by a meager diet, inadequate shelter, and intense cold; former mine laborers detail dangers of their work and attendant possibilities of disease, disfigurement, and death. The film captures recurrent use of animal similes in interviewees' self-presentation (e.g. the Japanese worked us like horses and oxen, we were like pigs in one room), and thus effectively evokes dehumanization they experienced: those sent to Sakhalin became, quite literally, beasts of burden. But editorial presentation suggests an even more fundamental effacement of their identities: we've become nameless souls, sighs one elderly gentleman. The title itself strikes a keynote which recurs several times: Koreans of Sakhalin see themselves as exiled from their homes and then abandoned by world. The voiceover narrative concurs, noting upon more than one occasion that no one remembered these people. The film highlights particularly an everpresent longing for land left behind. Again and again meet people struggling with burden of their memories: one miner's daughter describes nostalgically how she came from a village with a beautiful river and mountains, from which she was uprooted, and traveled with her family to a cold, cold country. For many, Korea becomes an idealized motherland of distant past seen in contrast to frozen land of their more recent lives. Although notion of han (often paraphrased as unrequited resentment or sorrow), so central to Korean popular discourse, is never invoked directly in production, both self-presentation of interviewees and narrative viewpoint are thoroughly informed by this concept. One Sakhalin resident relates a friend's deathbed words, which veritably burst with han:if you ever go back to Korea, tell everyone our story, story kept in our chests. In most cases self is presented first and foremost as an ethnic subject, and those interviewed often become, above all, exiled Koreans. …
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