Festival blog

Photo: Tomi Rantanen

The Helsinki Cine Aasia festival has now come to a close. This year’s edition once again offered countless film experiences while also broadening our understanding of contemporary Asian societies. As a festival focused on new films, Helsinki Cine Aasia is paying close attention to the international festival circuit and provides a valuable window into current themes in Asian cinema. The festival may also inspire some film lovers to watch at least one movie this year that doesn’t come from Hollywood.

This year’s programme featured several internationally acclaimed Japanese films, including Kokuho, Renoir, and Two Seasons, Two Strangers. South Korea was represented from a wide range of perspectives, from 3670, which follows a North Korean defector navigating Seoul’s queer community, to Climacteric Woman, a film addressing menopause. Another intriguing Japanese entry was Blue Boy Trial, a true story based on court cases from the 1960’s involving gender-affirming surgeries. Food-themed films always seem to attract audiences, and the South Korean film People and Meat and the Thai Morte Cucina each made audiences’ mouths water in their own distinct way.

The festival also had the honor to welcome several guests. Director Ha Myungmi and producer Yang Younghee from South Korea presented their new film Hallan. Panel discussions featured writer Minna Eväsoja, expert on post-war Vietnam Thu Nguyen, and photographer Onni Aaltonen, whose exhibition of photographs taken in North Korea was on display at Kinopalatsi during the festival.

In addition to dedicated cinephiles, Helsinki Cine Aasia attracts many people who are particularly interested in Asian cultures. But watching Asian films doesn’t have to stop when the festival ends. In Finland, the availability of Asian cinema is better than it has been in years, mainly thanks to the arrival of new film distributors.

This spring, cinemas will screen Kazuya Shiraishi’s modern samurai film Bushido (originally titled Gobangiri), Mamoru Hosoda’s new anime Scarlet, and of course Kokuho, which was also the festival’s opening film. The Taiwanese film Left-Handed Girl is still available in some theaters. Asian cinema is also often featured at festivals such as Espoo Ciné and Helsinki International Film Festival. In the autumn, audiences can look forward to the premiere of Two Seasons, Two Strangers, winner of the Golden Leopard at the Locarno Film Festival

Asian cinema can also be explored at your own pace, and I would encourage everyone to watch at least some older films as well. They offer a view into history in a way that contemporary cinema cannot quite replicate. Finding these films may seem difficult at first, but streaming services such as MUBI and Criterion Channel are excellent resources, though the latter requires a small VPN workaround. Finland’s public broadcaster Yle also occasionally shows both older and modern Asian classics. Also, for example, many Japanese films made before 1954 are in the public domain and are therefore easy to watch online.

Local cinemas such as Kino Regina and Orion also screen older Asian films from time to time. Physical media remains widely available for both new and classic titles. Among contemporary platforms, Netflix is currently investing heavily in Asian productions, and a surprisingly good selection can also be found through the Cineast service offered by some Finnish libraries.

However you choose to do it: just watch films.

Viktoria Murskaja

Photo: Tomi Rantanen

This year, the Helsinki Cine Aasia Film Festival had the honor of welcoming guests from South Korea: film director Ha Myungmi and producer Yang Younghee, who came to present their new film, Hallan (2025). Our festival reporter, Viktoria Murskaja, sat down with them to discuss their latest ground-making work, which sheds light on a silenced history of Jeju Island.

Director Ha, producer Yang, it’s a pleasure to meet you. How has your time in Finland and at the festival been?

Ha Myungmi: It’s my first time here, and I really like it. The atmosphere reminds me of Jeju Island, so it feels a bit like home. The fresh air, fresh water, and closeness to nature are very similar to Korea – of course, Jeju rather than Seoul.

People in mainland Korea sometimes think Jeju locals are quiet or have a moody face, but they’re actually very kind and warm-hearted. I feel a similar warmth from the Finnish friends I’ve met here. Sometimes think that Jeju is like the Korean Hawaii, but in winter it’s really cold, and there can be heavy snow and wind.

Yang Younghee: There’s a very cozy atmosphere among the audience and the festival staff. I feel that the audience is very sincere. They have a deep interest in other cultures and really try to communicate and learn. This creates a very positive energy. I hope that more people discover this festival, and next year, even more will attend.
 

Hallan is a film about the Jeju Massacre, which took place on April 3, 1948, when a large portion of Jeju’s population was killed after being labeled communist rebels by the government. Towards the end of the film, there is a touching scene in which a mother tells her daughter that it is important to record history so it won’t be forgotten. Was this also a motivation for you as a filmmaker?

Ha: I moved to Jeju Island in 2013, and every April 3 Memorial Day I felt a deep sorrow. I always wanted to do something about it. So yes, although the characters are fictional, the events are real. I wanted to make this film as a testament to history, and through the characters’ lines, to represent the lives of ordinary people and provide evidence of what truly happened.
 

Are there many films about the incident?

Ha: Not many. Hallan is actually the second feature film about this incident. There is another film done almost 13 years ago called Jiseul. ”Jiseul” means ”potato” in Jeju dialect. A local Jeju director made it on a very small budget with local actors. But that film didn’t really focus on soldiers or other armed groups, or the experiences of women and children.

When I made this film, I wanted to bring out those voices. In many historical films, women and children are sometimes portrayed simply as victims. I wanted them to be the main characters leading history, not just victims, and that was the main purpose of this film.
 

Until the 1990’s, it was illegal to talk about the April 3 events in South Korea. What about now? Is it taught in schools or openly discussed?

Ha: Compared to the past, this history is now being taught in schools. Before coming to Helsinki, I even had a screening for young students in Korea. Hallan also received a theatrical release, and over 30 000 people saw it. We can talk about the Jeju Uprising now, but it does not receive as much attention as the Gwangju Uprising of 1980. Many teachers still may not know the history in detail, because they themselves were never taught it.

Yang: We really want to reach the younger generations, so we have tried to promote the film in schools. The Jeju Island Office of Education has actually seen it and plans to show it to students.

Ha: When people try to research the events online, the information is often scattered and complicated. That’s why I wanted to simplify the history in my film, so it would be easier to grasp. Some storylines and characters became a bit flat or simple as a result, but it was the only way, for now, to make this complex history accessible. I hope that I have broken a taboo and many other filmmakers will continue to tell about it. I just wanted to break the silence.
 

Did you face many difficulties making a political film in Korea?
Ha: It was very difficult to make it. I had to fight with the fear of political judgement, and to keep my perspective, I had to make this film independently. It was really, really different to get a funding. Then I also had to fight with different audience opinions. But the main difficulty was still the emotional barrier. I had a very hard time making this film. It’s so sad. I’m not really a sad person, but once I started working on this, I cried every day.

Yang: In Korean society, although we have had many successful experiences of making our society more free and more democratic, we are still very weak. Like the whole situation with the former government [the 2022–2025 government under president Yoon Suk-yeol, who is now serving a life sentence]. The film industry is affected by the political situation and the society around. It’s not easy to make a film on this subject, and we were very shocked when Martial Law was declared. It’s the 21st century. How can dictatorship appear again?
It still impresses me that Korean cinema, even some very mainstream films, can be very openly critical of the government in a very dark way.

Ha: We have a DNA. The K-democracy DNA. Many Korean citizens are very brave and will do anything for the country and the democratic society. I have a huge respect for Korean citizens, and because of them, I could release this film. On the 3rd of December, when Martial Law was proclaimed, if no one would have fought, you probably wouldn’t have been able to see this film, and I might be in jail.

Yang: We were very scared.
 

It is great that you are now here, and safe. I have one final question: what’s next?

Ha: Last year, at the Bucheon International Fantastic Film Festival, I received an award that included price money for my next project. It is called LYNX, named after a Navy SEAL helicopter. I’m making a military horror thriller set in the contemporary times. My first feature film was a mystery crime thriller and I think nobody expected me to make a historical film. I’m going back to what I really love.

Thank you so much. I’ll be looking forward to it, and I hope you can come and visit Helsinki again one day.

Viktoria Murskaja

Photo: Tomi Rantanen

This year the Helsinki Cine Aasia festival audience also got to witness depictions of North Korea, although no films from the country itself were screened. The programme included two South Korean films dealing with the subject: 3670, about a gay man with a defector background, and The Fin, set in an alternative reality in which the two Koreas have united into a single totalitarian state.

In addition, the upper lobby of Kinopalatsi hosted Onni Aaltonen’s exhibition In Transit – Traveling in North Korea, which presented his travel photographs taken in the country. Aaltonen also discussed his experiences during a talk connected to the exhibition.

For many people, understandings of North Korea may still arise mainly from books written by defectors, but this information can be outdated. Many works that have been translated into Finnish, such as Barbara Demick’s Nothing to Envy (2009) and Blaine Harden’s Escape from Camp 14 (2012), are based on the famine years of the late 1990s and no longer reflect the current situation. The latter book has also proven to be unreliable, as the defector interviewed for it, Shin Dong-hyuk, later admitted that he had distorted some aspects of his story.

For this reason, it is significant that several Finnish film festivals have begun to explore contemporary North Korea in the recent years – primarily through documentaries, but now also through fiction films. In recent years, crossing the border between the two Koreas has become considerably more difficult, and after the COVID-19 pandemic the number of defectors has drastically diminished. At the same time, defection has become more organised in the hands of brokers and also so expensive that it can push people into debt before their journey has even properly begun. The situation is now very different from what the defector literature might suggest.

Relatively little is known about what happens to the defectors after they arrive in South Korea, because they are first taken into the care of the National Intelligence Service, which interrogates them to rule out possible espionage. After this the defectors must complete a re-education programme at institutions called Hanawon. Only recently have the first films begun to address this topic, such as Frederik Sølberg’s 2025 film Hana Korea.

Apart from the defectors’ own accounts, most descriptions of North Korea come from foreign journalists and filmmakers who have visited the country. Hailing mainly from democratic societies, they tend to view the country through their own lens, often from a distancing point of view.

However, the situation is changing. Attitudes toward North Koreans have begun to shift in South Korea, and this change is also visible in South Korean entertainment. Younger generations are no longer particularly intrigued by the idea of reunification, and North Korea is increasingly seen as a curious place whose inhabitants are perceived almost as foreigners. Depictions of North Korea have also become lighter and more comedic, whereas previously it was often portrayed as only an evil state.

New stereotypes have been strongly shaped by entertainment programmes such as the variety show Now on My Way to Meet You (2011–), which also incorporates elements of a beauty pageant. In the show, North Korean women are portrayed as charming beauties who tell about their lives across the border while also singing and dancing.

In fiction, perhaps the most influential work has been the romantic comedy series Crash Landing on You (2019), in which a South Korean businesswoman accidentally paraglides into North Korea and falls in love with a local man. Meanwhile, the North Korean Kang Sae-byeok in Squid Game (played by South Korean model Jung Ho-yeon) introduced a defector character to an international audience.

In South Korea, North Korean women are sometimes perceived as more attrative and more traditional in their values than local women. According to a Korean saying, the North has the most beautiful women, while the South has the most handsome men. Another common stereotype has been the portrayal of North Korean male spies as ruggedly handsome men. Although these perspectives are quite othering, in South Korea these stereotypes have ultimately helped to reduce the stigma directed at defectors, making the general public more curious about them.

The film 3670, screened at Helsinki Cine Aasia, nevertheless represents a fresh, intersectional way of approaching the subject. Its protagonist Cheol-jun (Cho Yoo-hyun) is both a defector and a gay man, and a new kind of “fish out of water” story emerges when he tries to get accustomed with Seoul’s queer scene. Ultimately, his North Korean background is not particularly central to the film, although there are some some jokes that play with the usual stereotypes. Still, the story would probably stay the same if the protagonist was just any queer young person searching for his identity and a sense of community.

Overall, representations of North Koreans are becoming more diverse in South Korea, and more attention is paid to getting the small details right. The situation is different in the West, where North Korea still often remains just a subject of memes.

Viktoria Murskaja

The atmosphere at this year’s opening of the Helsinki Cine Aasia festival felt especially celebratory, as many had been eagerly waiting to see the opening film, Kokuho, directed by Lee Sang-il. The anticipation was not due only to the film’s Academy Award nomination for Best Makeup and Hair, but above all to its massive success in its home country.

Are you familiar with Bayside Shakedown 2? Most international audiences have probably never heard of it. Yet that film held the Japanese box-office record for domestic movies for an impressive 22 years – until Kokuho finally surpassed it. In reality, Japanese box offices are dominated by anime films, but the achievement is still remarkable. Kokuho is not based on a pre-existing media franchise, but on Shuichi Yoshida’s massive novel of over 800 pages. The story follows a kabuki master and his two apprentices, only one of whom is his biological son. Over the years, their rivalry leads to various tensions and dramatic twists.

The story, spanning from 1960 to 2010, does not focus heavily on historical context or politics, but solely on kabuki theater, which remains almost unchanged within the film. It is an intriguing choice, echoed even in the film’s title: kokuhō, or “national treasure.” Foreign countries barely exist within the film’s world: what remains is only kabuki, and beauty.

In recent years, a subtle nationalist undertone has recurred in Japanese blockbuster films. Godzilla Minus One (2023) was not only an awaited sequel to the legendary monster franchise but also a reinterpretation of World War II through the eyes of a traumatized kamikaze pilot. The Demon Slayer manga and anime franchise also draws heavily on Japanese cultural symbols and beliefs, and the characters primarily fight with Japanese swords.

Of course, there are also contrasting approaches: for example, Chie Hayakawa’s Renoir, also shown at Helsinki Cine Aasia, engages with foreignness throughout the entire runtime.

Japanese society is in a state of flux, although one could say the same about most societies anyway. Recent news has focused both on the rise of conservatism and on issues such as over-tourism. The sense of nostalgia present in the aforementioned films may reflect a longing for traditional Japan that no longer exists – if it ever truly did. At the same time, for contemporary Japanese audiences, traditional arts such as kabuki may also be less familiar, making them an attraction in their own right.

Kabuki dates back only to the early 1600s, so it is not an extremely ancient form of theater. It is a commercial and living art form, and modern kabuki has even drawn inspiration from works like Naruto and One Piece. Kokuho strongly relies on tradition, showcasing many iconic plays, which – fortunately – were summarized in Finnish subtitles as brief plot synopses, since I am not an expert on the subject myself. Whether this was a Finnish initiative or part of an international distribution strategy, the subtitles help make the film accessible to a wider audience. I predict a small spike in kabuki theater visits in the near future.

Although Kokuho is still receiving a theatrical release in Finland, the film was the perfect choice to open this year’s festival. Lead actors Ryo Yoshizawa and Ryusei Yokohama trained for six months under the guidance of kabuki master Nakamura Ganjirō. Yoshizawa’s impressive performance as the onnagata may well remain the crowning jewel of his career.

Another interesting detail is that director Lee Sang-il comes from Japan’s Zainichi Korean minority. This is still relatively uncommon in Japanese cinema, yet this national treasure was entrusted to a director of a new generation.

Viktoria Murskaja

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Sorry, this entry is only available in suomi.

Sorry, this entry is only available in suomi.