On the Border

In China, a teenage boy dreams of fulfilling his life in South Korea. The director's depiction of the boy's life and the sleepy border town he lives in gives a beautiful insight into the life and desires of people living a life on hold, hoping for "a better life in a better place."

Taken soberly and deliberately, in this urban road movie, the idea of a border is duplicated from the literal and the metaphorical. On the Border is a minimal story and photographically beautiful that finds in spaces and silences the best way to communicate its powerful meaning.

A Korean teen and his missing father. The boy meets a woman. It's the border between a China town and the Korean. His father leaves the motorcycle store he runs, for unknown reason. Interweaving handycam-like realism and stylish, atmospheric cinematography, the film portraits the a trip of desire and unlikely companion. When you find something lost at a time, there could be a world you never knew you would pursuit otherwise.

There is a moment in On The Border where the boy and the girl share their desire to go South Korea. His purposes are different for her is only subtle, aesthetic, for him is life. Surprising the delicate care that Wei Shujun manages the story, showing with a laconic look and silently building the routine of this young man who yearns to leave his filthy everyday life and replace it with that world full of neon lights that promises Korea. A dream that determines his life, which conditions his way of relating to others and Shujun manages to convey the weight of this desire.

On the Border reflects the world of the main character really well. It also beautifully examples how the political matters penetrate into the world of the characters inwardly, deeply and silently. Just like in our lives.