I was fortunate enough to see 'Satu: Year of the Rabbit' at the Raindance Film Festival where it was followed by a Q&A with its director, Joshua Trigg. This cinematic gem tells the story of Bo, an aspiring teenage photojournalist on the run from her abusive father, and Satu, a young orphan boy juxtapositionally embarking on a search for his estranged mother, as they journey together in the pursuit of true family.
From the film's opening scenes, we are introduced to Satu's mother and her heartbreaking realisation that she cannot provide for Satu and must relinquish his care to the monks of the Pha Tang temple. After a short time-jump where we see Satu as a young boy of eight tending to the chores of the temple, we also meet Bo a determined and compassionate young woman whose unfortunate circumstances have left her living with her abusive, alcoholic father. We see a snapshot of her suffering before she makes the decision to run away from her home and the life that she knows. Early on in Bo's journey, she encounters the Pha Tang temple. Satu, who has gone without a mother figure, is drawn to Bo's kindness and strength and Bo, sensing Satu's yearning for familial love, takes on the role of a surrogate mother with tenderness and dedication.
The cinematography following Bo and Satu through their journey is nothing short of breathtaking. The landscapes of Laos, with its beautiful natural scenery and vibrant cultural heritage are artfully captured. Each shot feels framed like a photograph, echoing Bo's photojournalistic aspirations. The film's score harmoniously blends the traditional instruments of Lao music with contemporary film scoring to complement the narrative, enhancing the emotional depth of the story; I was especially enthralled by the jaunty air playing as Bo and Satu are preparing to embark on their adventure
'Satu: Year of the Rabbit' is a film full of heart. It is a story about the families we choose and the impact we can have on each other's lives. The film does not shy away from the harsh realities of life but instead embraces them, showing that even in the face of sorrow, there is always room for love and connection.
