Name: My Name Is Loh Kiwan
Genre: Romance, Drama
Released: 2024-02-19T00:00:00+00:00
Cast: Song Joong-ki, Choi Sung-eun, Waël Sersoub, Cho Han-cheul, Kim Sung-ryung

The first shot of My Name Is Loh Kiwan is a long take of Song Joong-ki’s face, his breath visible in the freezing Brussels air as he surveys the unfamiliar cityscape before him. It’s a simple image, but it carries the weight of a thousand unspoken struggles. This is Loh Kiwan (Song), a North Korean defector who has fled one nightmare only to find himself in another—one wrapped in red tape and indifference. Director Kim Hee-jin’s film, based on Cho Hae-jin’s 2011 novel I Met Loh Kiwan, doesn’t offer easy answers or sentimental resolutions. Instead, it digs into the messy, often invisible battle for survival that refugees face daily.

What sets this film apart from other refugee narratives is its refusal to romanticize suffering. Kiwan isn’t a heroic underdog; he’s a man who stumbles, makes mistakes, and sometimes fails. Song Joong-ki’s performance anchors the film with a quiet intensity. His Kiwan is exhausted but not broken, resilient but not invincible. The scene where Kiwan kneels on the frozen ground, wiping at the road with his bare hands—a futile attempt to erase the evidence of his desperation—is a masterclass in understated acting. It’s a moment that lingers because it feels so utterly human.

Kim Hee-jin’s direction is measured but never cold. She allows the camera to linger on quiet moments—the hum of a café, the distant chatter of strangers—and lets the sound design immerse you in Kiwan’s disorienting new world. The cinematography captures the stark beauty of Brussels’ winter landscapes, the snow-covered streets reflecting both the city’s harshness and its fleeting moments of warmth.

Choi Sung-eun as Marie, a former Belgian athlete who becomes Kiwan’s reluctant ally, delivers a performance that matches Song’s restraint. Their chemistry isn’t built on grand declarations of love or loyalty but on small, tentative acts of trust. The way they move together—hesitant, careful, like two people testing the waters of an unfamiliar relationship—feels painfully real. Choi’s portrayal of Marie’s own struggles with identity and purpose adds depth to her character, making their bond feel earned rather than forced.

The film’s pacing, however, is uneven. While the first half builds tension effectively, the latter stages occasionally stumble into melodrama. Some secondary characters, like Cyril (Waël Sersoub), feel underdeveloped, their motivations and emotions glossed over in favor of Kiwan and Marie’s story. The narrative arc, while easy to follow, sometimes feels predictable, especially in its handling of bureaucratic hurdles and romantic subplots.

Themes of guilt, displacement, and the search for belonging are woven throughout the film. Kiwan’s journey isn’t just about finding a place to live; it’s about reclaiming his identity after years of erasure. Song Joong-ki delves into these themes with nuance, portraying Kiwan’s internal conflict as vividly as his external struggles. The film’s exploration of these issues is grounded in reality, thanks in part to the research conducted by Liberty in North Korea, a non-profit that assisted with the film’s authenticity.

The supporting cast adds layers to the story without overshadowing the central narrative. Kim Sung-ryung as Kiwan’s mother, Ok-hee, delivers a heart-wrenching performance in her brief but pivotal scenes. Her character’s dying wish—“Find a place where you can truly own your name and live”—becomes the driving force behind Kiwan’s journey. Seo Hyun-woo as Ri Eun-cheol, Loh Kiwan’s maternal uncle, adds complexity to the family dynamics, though his role is relatively minor.

The film’s technical aspects are impeccable. The cinematography captures the stark contrast between the beauty of Brussels and the harsh reality of its streets for a refugee. The sound design immerses you in Kiwan’s world, from the echoing emptiness of his early days to the cacophony of the city as he slowly integrates.

My Name Is Loh Kiwan isn’t for those seeking escapism or easy catharsis. It’s a film that demands patience and empathy from its audience. The quiet devastation of its story comes not from explosive confrontations but from the slow, relentless grind of survival. This is a film about the unseen battles fought by refugees every day—the paperwork, the waiting, the constant fear of being sent back to a place where they’re not safe.

The film’s release on Netflix in selected regions on March 1, 2024, ensured it reached a global audience, though its impact might have been greater with a theatrical run. The streamer’s algorithmic prominence, however, allowed it to find viewers who might otherwise overlook such a somber drama.

The film’s setting in Belgium adds a layer of authenticity, as it’s a country known for its progressive stance on refugees but also one where the bureaucratic hurdles can be daunting, and My Name Is Loh Kiwan stands apart in its focus on the European asylum process.

Ultimately, My Name Is Loh Kiwan is a poignant, if flawed, exploration of displacement and resilience.