In a recent interview with IMDb, the mononymous filmmaker Kogonada shared that his method of directing is to “be water,” and that feels true of his filmography. His first film in 2017, Columbus, felt like a peaceful pond, and his second, After Yang, in 2021, like a thoughtful river. What kind of water did Kogonada embody in his third feature, A Big Bold Beautiful Journey? Take a journey to discover how Kogonada’s latest film flows within his filmography.
Stillness and Movement in Columbus
In Columbus, Kogonada expertly captures the feeling of being stuck. Similar to architecture, our protagonists, Casey (Haley Lu Richardson) and Jin (John Cho), are static. They can’t move–both out of guilt for leaving a parent. For the time being, they are solidly planted in the architecture town of Columbus, Indiana. Casey is spending her years out of high school not at college as everyone suspected, but instead living with her mom at home, working at the local library. Jin, a successful literary translator, is called to Columbus when his father, a master architect, falls ill while in town for a talk he was giving. Casey is hesitant to leave; Jin is hesitant to stay.
On the surface, Casey and Jin couldn’t seem more different. Jin is in his forties, dedicated to his career, constantly taking calls, and working on deadlines. Casey is a lost twenty-something yet to start her career, as library science is not her passion. Even in their respective jobs, the metaphors are rich. Casey working at the library reiterates her limitless potential. She has a world of knowledge at her fingertips, endless possibilities for her future, but she needs to choose one. Jin has been mastering his craft as a literary translator while perhaps losing touch with his identity in the process. He translates between Korean and English, which echoes his big move from South Korea to small-town Indiana to be with his estranged father. His business phone calls are in Korean but not translated in the film, further instilling a sense of isolation and alienation.
The unlikely bond between Casey and Jin is at the heart of Columbus. Besides their general sense of being lost, the two share one trait: their knowledge and love for architecture. Casey shows Jin around her hometown, depositing architectural facts as quickly as the two go through cigarettes. The majority of the film revolves around the two wandering through Columbus (movement) while talking about how stuck they are (stillness). This dissonance between movement and stillness reverberates throughout the film.
Columbus is largely made up of expertly framed, beautifully presented shots of world-renowned architecture. The stunning shots of artful buildings are juxtaposed with people passing them by in-frame, much like life passes by Casey. These architectural shots are also paired with the gentle stillness of nature, a reminder for Jin to come back to his roots and take care of his dying father.
Casey and Jin have a lot to learn from each other. Jin pushes Casey to leave Columbus and pursue a career in architecture. On the flipside, Casey teaches Jin a lesson or two about sacrificing something of your own for someone you love. Columbus is a thoughtful meditation on the ebbs and flows of our lives and how one person can help shift the tide in the right direction.
Going Through the Motions in After Yang
In his second feature film, Kogonada once again captures a unique, conflicting state. Unlike Columbus’ focus on stillness and movement, After Yang takes a closer look at the act of living itself—of truly experiencing everything, taking it in, and appreciating it—as opposed to just going through the motions. Ironically, the one who’s robotically going through the motions in After Yang is not the robot but the humans.
After the sudden breakdown of their family’s technosapien, Yang (Justin H. Min), parents Jake (Colin Farrell) and Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith) search for answers. They purchased Yang to connect their adopted daughter, Mika (Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja), to her Chinese heritage. Both parents spend too much time at work and not enough time with Mika, which becomes evident after Yang is gone.
Kyra is, unfortunately, an underutilized character, while the film focuses more on Jake’s internal journey as he tries to get Yang repaired. In his quest to find insight into Yang’s diagnostics, Jake unearths something greater. Nestled deep within Yang’s core is a well of memories—and it hits Jake that what he deemed as a non-lifeform has lived more life than he ever will.
Unlike most sci-fi films that tell stories through a dystopian lens, Kogonada has built a world so rich, lush, and green in After Yang that it feels more utopian than dystopian. The set design is aesthetically pleasing with its earthy tones, the costuming is chic yet cozy, the vegetation is thriving, and the whole world feels relaxed and at peace. It’s unlike anything we’re experiencing now, in a world where AI is taking more jobs, using more water, and sending humanity down dark holes.
In this idealistic world, AI isn’t the destruction of man, but the reconstruction. Yang’s memories spark something in Jake, serving as a reminder for him to live his life, connect with his daughter, and think about everyone as equally interesting individuals who contain multitudes.
The technosapiens in the film also remind us how singularly special it is to be human—something Yang can only yearn for. As he admits to Jake while drinking tea: “I wish Chinese tea wasn’t just about facts for me.” In this same conversation, Yang soberly asks Jake if he believes that “a cup of tea can contain a world,” a reminder for Jake (and all of us) that there are depths to every living creature that deserve respect and appreciation.
After Yang is about humanity as a whole, which includes dying. Yang drops some somber yet comforting musings on death in a conversation with Kyra: “I’m fine if there’s nothing in the end.” Yang has lived a full life–lives in fact, as his memories ultimately prove. It’s an inspiring mindset for a world obsessed with living longer, dodging death, and acquiring more, more, more in the process. With After Yang, Kogonada subtly reminds us to keep life simple and appreciate its small pleasures, like holding your family close and enjoying a cup of tea.
Out of Sync in A Big Bold Beautiful Journey
It’s important to note that Columbus and After Yang were both written, directed, and edited by Kogonada, in which each frame shows some stroke of mastery. However, his third feature film, A Big Bold Beautiful Journey, only finds him in the director’s chair. Without Kogonada at the helm of all three aspects of filmmaking—most notably as writer—the film suffers.
The screenplay was written by Seth Reiss, whose only other feature credit belongs to the 2022 film The Menu as co-writer. Unfortunately, the only item on the menu this time is a nothingburger—or a Whopper, maybe. In other words, it’s a flop. Its main hindrances relate back to its screenplay: stilted dialogue, an abundance of meaninglessness, and some of the most shameless product placement in years. When there is a whole scene that reads as a Burger King commercial, how seriously can you take that film? It feels like a betrayal of the thoughtful artistry audiences have come to expect from Kogonada.
The film stars Margot Robbie as Sarah and Colin Farrell as David, two lost individuals connected through a mysterious rental car company. After meeting at a wedding, their cars’ GPS lead them to each other the next day (at Burger King). They then go off on a time-travelling journey together, opening and closing doors from their pasts as they relive each other’s biggest regrets and formative moments. Ultimately, Reiss’ soggy screenplay weighs down what could have been a transformative tale of learning to say “yes” and living in the moment.
For more thoughts on the film, read my colleague’s full review here.
Reflecting on his filmography, it’s evident that Kogonada is drawn to stories of being stuck or lost, whether that’s stuck in a setting like Columbus, lost in thought like After Yang, or stuck in time like A Big Bold Beautiful Journey. Returning to the water analogy, his third film feels as shallow as the puddles its characters stomp through—rippling but never deep. More often than not, the potential of the film evaporates into a drought, devoid of any real substance.
If A Big Bold Beautiful Journey has done anything, it’s established an even greater appreciation for Columbus and After Yang. Hopefully, after some reflection, Kogonada returns to form as writer, director, and editor—waters where he clearly thrives.
Retrospective Courtesy of Kasey Dunifer
Feature Image Designed by Kasey Dunifer
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