The blossoming ‘Flower of Reunification’

La chica del sur is a fine example of classic documentary storytelling

by Pablo Suárez

For the Herald

“It was the summer of 1989, and I had just barely turned 24 when I submerged myself into the revolutionary foam that enthralled thousands of representatives from all over the world that arrived to Pyongyang (North Korea) to participate in the 13th World Festival of Youth and Students. A political event with a certain vocational tone, sponsored by the USSR only three months before the fall of the Berlin Wall. I arrived with the Argentine delegation, but I didn’t belong to any political party, and I wasn’t a journalist either. I was part of an organization with only two members: my camera and I, drifting in the other side of the world, and enjoying the benefits of revolutionary tourism. That is until a person came along and changed everything...,” states the voiceover of Argentine filmmaker José Luis García in the first minutes of his noteworthy documentary La chica del sur, which premièred in commercial cinemas yesterday after a critically acclaimed run at the Buenos Aires International Festival of Independent Cinema (BAFICI).

The person who came along and changed everything was 21-year-old peace activist Lim Sukyung, who arrived in Pyongyang representing the students of South Korea and had to go all around the world stopping in Tokyo, Berlin and Moscow in order to challenge the prohibition on travelling to the north side of her own country. “The Flower of the Reunification,” as she was dubbed, was determined to go all the way (always in peaceful terms) to achieve something that was, in fact, quite impossible: to reunite North Korea and South Korea.

Of all possible approaches, director José Luis García (who in 2005 helmed the award-winning Cándido López; los campos de batalla) goes for a classic narrative style: he introduces the subject, develops it, then there’s the climax, and the ending that wraps it all up. Considering the nature of the theme, there’s no need to go for an avant-garde approach that would probably distract viewers. The issue here is to tell a story as clearly and effectively as possible, and García does so in such an effortless manner, with plenty of telling details and meaningful small revelations, that a few minutes into the film you can already tell La chica del sur is bound to fulfill the expectations it arises which it does, I am happy to report.

Think that there is a lot of information to organize, thus precise and accurate editing is a must – otherwise you’re bound to lose track of the main ideas or just get confused for no purpose. Not only did García edit his material in a remarkable manner, but he also cast his acute gaze upon it in a non-obtrusive manner. You get the information and the filmmaker’s take on it, but you’re also asked to draw your own conclusions which makes the film more appealing. Little by little, you get to know Lim Sukyung, her ideas, her feelings and actions. At first you only see what’s most apparent, but afterwards the film goes for more intimate stuff (the impact of the death of her son has on her, for instance). This is a complex character and García is well aware of that, which is why he never simplifies anything at all.

During the film’s first third, there’s the footage shot by the filmmaker in his first trip back in 1989 using a very simple video camera a friend had lent him. García already had experience with filmmaking at the time, so it’s not surprising but it’s welcome to see that this footage was the unconscious embryo of a film to come many years later. Some striking and spontaneous moments captured depict the hugeness of the events and the many ramifications. This is when you start caring for Lim Sukyung, for she was a most socially and politically aware person who was also humble and affectionate. She was a leader, no doubt, but one made of flesh and blood.

In 2009, García travelled once again to Korea to try to interview the Flower of the Reunification for his documentary. I think this is probably the richest part of the documentary, for you get to have a fairly complete panorama of the state of affairs, as well as the local colours of the many places where García accompanied Lim Sukyung. He cleverly avoids all kinds of exoticism or biased standpoints. La chica del sur is about discovering a woman and her many facets, not about corroborating previous ideas about her. Sometimes, when Lim Sukyung holds back information or blocks the conversations, there’s some mystery to her, and García preserves said mystery because it is, precisely, a most important part of the film.

And then there’s the ending (not to be disclosed here), that is both unexpected and surprising, and adds more meanings to what had already been exposed. Very well scripted and narrated with acute sensibility, La chica del sur is a fine example of classic filmmaking.