When I choose Chinese films, I am often drawn to works that deeply explore their emotions and reality rather than popular commercial films. This is because I rarely find appeal in Hollywood-style entertainment films or works that overtly promote patriotism. In that sense, the film “When I Call My Name” was a work that perfectly aligned with my cinematic preferences, delicately capturing a cross-section of Chinese society and the inner struggles of individuals living within it. When I watch artistic films, even though they are stories on the screen, they often give me a deeper understanding of the reality of China and the way of life there. Sometimes I am surprised by the cultural background that is so different from ours, but in terms of universal emotions such as family relationships and personal feelings, I often find myself nodding in agreement. In particular, the three East Asian countries of South Korea, China, and Japan, which are geographically and culturally close, often share many emotional similarities despite their different histories and social systems.
The film opens with the tragic event of the protagonist's parents dying in a sudden traffic accident. After graduating from high school, the protagonist worked as a nurse and led a busy life, but she had made all the preparations to fulfill her long-held dream of moving to Beijing to obtain a medical license. Although she had always wanted to become a doctor, she had to put her dream on hold due to her family's difficult financial situation. For her, moving to Beijing was a new turning point in her life and her last chance.
However, there was someone holding her back—her younger brother. In the early part of the film, I suspected that this younger brother was not her biological brother. Like children brought into a remarried family, the attitude the older sister showed toward her younger brother was too cold to be that of a biological sibling, and even seemed hostile. Added to this were some unclear questions about her parents' traffic accident, and from the beginning, the film hints at the complex family relationships and the hidden wounds within them.
After their parents' funeral, their relatives unanimously pressure the protagonist to take care of his younger brother. Their words, “Your life is important, but what about your younger brother?”, resonated with the family-centered values commonly found in Korean society, creating a strange sense of familiarity. The relatives, who live in the same neighborhood as the protagonist and are deeply involved in each other's daily lives, are not so different from our own. Perhaps the three East Asian countries of Korea, China, and Japan share a similar emotional tendency to prioritize the maintenance of the family community over the individual's life.
However, the protagonist is resolute. “I will choose my own life. If that's the case, then raise him yourself!” she says, refusing to give up on her dream. Taking responsibility for her younger brother, who is not yet in school, means giving up her trip to Beijing and revising all her plans, so her resistance is perhaps natural. Her sister's resolute attitude and sharp words hurt her brother, and the already awkward relationship between the siblings seems to deepen.
The protagonist's behavior sometimes seems cold-hearted. She is harsh not only toward her younger brother but also toward those around her, and she rarely shows her emotions, even in the face of her parents' sudden death. This may be a defense mechanism stemming from past wounds, such as feeling that all of her parents' love and attention went to her younger sibling after they were born, or from the subtle discrimination and alienation she experienced as a daughter in an environment where the preference for sons was strong. The film indirectly shows that the protagonist has lived in a distant relationship with her parents since her younger sibling was born, lending weight to this speculation.
From the protagonist's perspective, moving to Beijing for her future is clearly a rational and correct choice. To this end, she tries to have her younger brother adopted by another family, but in the process, she constantly conflicts with relatives who insist that she should take responsibility for him. Although she has just become an adult, she still lacks a stable economic foundation, and taking full responsibility for her younger brother is practically impossible for her. While her judgment is logically sound, it is impossible not to feel a sense of sadness and bitterness when considering the emotional bonds of blood and human compassion.
Perhaps due to past trauma, the protagonist maintains a certain distance from others and does not easily reveal her feelings. Even her boyfriend says, “I'm the only one who can accept your personality,” showing how awkward she is at forming relationships. Rather than overly explaining or dramatically embellishing the protagonist's complex inner world, the film quietly follows her daily life and choices with a detached, contemplative gaze. Meanwhile, the younger sibling, growing up in the absence of parents and the indifference of the older sister, gradually comes to realize the harsh reality of their situation and begins to cling to the older sister as their only blood relative.
As the film progresses, the protagonist begins to vaguely realize the true feelings and love hidden behind her parents' past actions, and subtle changes in her relationship with her younger sister become apparent. In particular, the female director's critical perspective on the “preference for sons” is consistently revealed throughout the film. This seems to symbolize the fundamental cause of the protagonist's internal conflict and the invisible social barriers she faces when she tries to make her own choices in life.
“When I Call My Name” is undoubtedly a work that provokes much thought about the meaning of family, especially the weight of responsibility placed on women within traditional values. However, compared to the delicate way in which the film builds up this realistic weight and sense of awareness, I personally found the ending somewhat disappointing. The dilemma faced by the protagonist, the process of resolving it, and the choice and aftertaste presented at the end seemed to remain within a somewhat predictable range, or fell short of providing deeper insight or a stronger impact. Nevertheless, I believe this film is worth watching for its sober portrayal of a cross-section of Chinese society and the realistic concerns of the individuals living within it.
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