A Columbia MFA Thesis Short Film
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LOGLINE
Noel, a Korean American teenage girl wise beyond her years, sets off alone for Arizona to reconnect with her estranged father over Christmas. As she witnesses his unconventional life in a camper, she begins to realize that he may not be as lonely as she once believed.
BRIEF SYNOPSIS
In the late 2000s, during a frigid winter in a small town near Denver, Noel, a Korean American teenager, finds herself concerned for her father, who moved alone to Arizona years ago. Compelled by worry for her estranged father, Noel sets off to Arizona to spend Christmas with him.
When they finally reunite, she discovers him transformed—his appearance and lifestyle both unfamiliar. As she glimpses his unconventional life as a camper, she realizes, to her quiet relief, that he is far from lonely.
DIRECTOR’S STATEMENT
This project began with a journal accidentally delivered to the wrong recipient. The journal belonged to a Korean immigrant in the twilight of his life, a chronicle filled with the relentless battles he waged to survive in a foreign land. One day, he sent these writings to his children, hoping they would read them. But none of them wished to open its pages. He had been, without excuse, a husband and father who left his family behind to pursue his own path. Furthermore, the journal was written in Korean, his native tongue, making it less accessible for his American-born, English-speaking children. Left unread and disregarded by his family, the journal came into my hands. Out of simple curiosity, I found myself delving into this stranger’s story. One passage among the dozens caught my eye—a Christmas anecdote where his daughter had visited him in silence, and together they spent a joyful holiday. Yet I couldn’t help but question: With what feelings had his daughter come to see him? How did she feel leaving afterward? How did she see the father who had once abandoned her? A flood of conflicted questions stirred within me.
There are things we come to understand only with time. As a child, I couldn’t fathom why adults cherished coffee or took solace in exhausting hikes. Yet, those very things have become some of my own favorites now. My father, too, remained for a while in the folder of the unknown along with coffee and hiking. As I matured, I began to see him differently —not as someone who was fully prepared for the role of a father, but as a person grappling with his own shortcomings. If I could have reached this understanding a decade earlier, would I have wasted less time harboring resentment?
This journal wasn’t meant for me, and as a storyteller, I wanted to return it to its intended recipients. Not only to his children but to countless others who, despite an inability to fully comprehend their fathers, never stopped trying to bridge the gap. I hope this film resonate with the unanswered questions of their own youth.
PRODUCER’S STATEMENT
My bond with Haeseoung blossomed during our initial directing exercise, evolving through shared childhood anecdotes and laughter about our mothers. Yet, when delving into discussions about our fathers, a common refrain emerged: "I don't understand what my dad is thinking." What unfolds in our fathers' minds?
Hailing from a Chinese county town, my father adhered to the archetypal image of the reserved Asian patriarch. Communication between us was often clumsy and forceful, leading to confrontations rather than conversations. By high school, our relationship had deteriorated to the point where sharing a meal at the same table seemed implausible.
A year and a half in the United States allowed me to distance myself from my native family. Navigating time zones and bridging cultural gaps, I oscillated between foreign and local identities. Upon returning home this winter break, I was no longer the girl patiently enduring my father's lectures. Assertive and eager to share overseas stories, I anticipated another verbal clash. However, this time was different. He sighed and uttered, "Our worlds are indeed different now, and that's okay." Surprisingly, my father opted for reconciliation over confrontation. Reflecting on his silence, a new thought emerged: "Maybe Dad is lonely too." Why would a father, never vocalizing, "I love you," choose his daughter's photo as the profile picture for all his social media accounts? I realized I had never truly delved into my father's world.
I hope to support Haeseoung in concluding this narrative—a tribute to East Asian fathers and, more crucially, a tale of reconciliation between an East Asian daughter and herself.
Meet the Team
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Anqi Chen
PRODUCER
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Hae Seoung Kim
WRITER & DIRECTOR
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Lily Comerfield
LOCAL PRODUCER
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Mercedes Garcia
LINE PRODUCER
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Shangbai Jiang
DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY
