The Beautiful Country (2004)
Hans Petter Moland’s Modern Odyssey
Hans Petter Moland’s wonderful movie The Beautiful Country tells the compelling story of a young man, Binh (Damien Nguyen in a remarkable debut performance), who endures a tortuous journey, from rural Vietnam to Texas, in search of family.
In 1990, Binh, who is very tall and anxious to please, lives in a Vietnamese village. He is treated as a servant by his foster family. And he is scorned by the villagers, who say he is “bui doi”—“less than dust”—because of his mixed heritage: his mother is Vietnamese, his father an American G.I.
Binh’s odyssey begins when he sets out for Ho Chi Minh City, armed with little more than a photograph of a happy young couple—it shows a beautiful Vietnamese woman holding a baby and a smiling American, standing in front of a storefront.
In Ho Chi Minh City, Binh determinedly seeks information. He meets a young boy, Tam (Dang Quoc Thinh Tran), who has been told that he had a very tall older brother, and through him, Binh finds his mother.
She is overcome at meeting her oldest son. She tells him that she doesn’t know what happened to his father—he simply disappeared one day.
She finds Binh a job in the luxurious home where she is a domestic. But, when an accident occurs in the home, she believes Binh will be blamed. She gives him money and urges him to leave and seek out his father in America—on her marriage licence he has an address in Houston, Texas. She also begs him to take Tam with him.
They survive a voyage in a desperately overcrowded fishing boat. It takes them across the South China Sea. However, on arrival they are immediately interned in Malaysian refuge camp. In the camp, they are helped by Ling (Bai Ling), a young, beautiful, but bitter, Chinese woman. She survives in the camp’s harsh conditions by prostituting herself. Ling gives Binh money, so that he and Tam can escape from the camp—but Binh insists that she should go with them.
They bribe the camp guards and swim out to a rusting freighter, anchored offshore. They are only allowed to stay on board by giving a man named Snakehead (Temura Morrison) all their money and by signing away their future in America, before it can begin. The transactions are watched by the freighter’s Captain (Tim Roth).
The Beautiful Country is an extraordinary movie—a deeply moving story of hope maintained against all odds. It is beautifully photographed, in steely blues and greys on the freighter and lurid reds and yellows in New York, by Stuart Dryburgh, whose began his career as director of photography with three potent features—Angel at My Table, The Piano, and Once Were Warriors). The striking music is by Polish composer Zbignew Preisner.
The movie is full of wonderful performances. Nick Nolte is splendid as an aging Vietnam vet who has managed to come to terms with the troubled life he has led. Roth conveys the world-weariness of the ship’s captain, who has seen it all more than enough times. New Zealand’s Morrison (star of Once Were Warriors) is all business and power as Snakehead.
Bai Ling gives a great performance as a young woman who is all but dead inside, but who is able to find hope in Binh and his young brother. And Nguyen is outstanding as the young man who has every reason to give up his quest, but who persists and endures.
Norwegian director Hans Petter Moland, was hand-picked by the movie’s co-producer Terence Malik (director of Badlands, Days of Heaven, The Thin Red Line, and The New World), who began developing the movie with scriptwriter Sabina Murray.
Moland’s work is exemplary. He manages the international cast and crew with great skill. And the scenes in Vietnam, in the Malaysian refugee camp, on board ship, in a hellish New York City, and in Texas are realized with great freshness and extraordinary vividness.
—John Bloomfield (January, 2006)
Hans Petter Moland’s wonderful movie The Beautiful Country tells the compelling story of a young man, Binh (Damien Nguyen in a remarkable debut performance), who endures a tortuous journey, from rural Vietnam to Texas, in search of family.
In 1990, Binh, who is very tall and anxious to please, lives in a Vietnamese village. He is treated as a servant by his foster family. And he is scorned by the villagers, who say he is “bui doi”—“less than dust”—because of his mixed heritage: his mother is Vietnamese, his father an American G.I.
Binh’s odyssey begins when he sets out for Ho Chi Minh City, armed with little more than a photograph of a happy young couple—it shows a beautiful Vietnamese woman holding a baby and a smiling American, standing in front of a storefront.
In Ho Chi Minh City, Binh determinedly seeks information. He meets a young boy, Tam (Dang Quoc Thinh Tran), who has been told that he had a very tall older brother, and through him, Binh finds his mother.
She is overcome at meeting her oldest son. She tells him that she doesn’t know what happened to his father—he simply disappeared one day.
She finds Binh a job in the luxurious home where she is a domestic. But, when an accident occurs in the home, she believes Binh will be blamed. She gives him money and urges him to leave and seek out his father in America—on her marriage licence he has an address in Houston, Texas. She also begs him to take Tam with him.
They survive a voyage in a desperately overcrowded fishing boat. It takes them across the South China Sea. However, on arrival they are immediately interned in Malaysian refuge camp. In the camp, they are helped by Ling (Bai Ling), a young, beautiful, but bitter, Chinese woman. She survives in the camp’s harsh conditions by prostituting herself. Ling gives Binh money, so that he and Tam can escape from the camp—but Binh insists that she should go with them.
They bribe the camp guards and swim out to a rusting freighter, anchored offshore. They are only allowed to stay on board by giving a man named Snakehead (Temura Morrison) all their money and by signing away their future in America, before it can begin. The transactions are watched by the freighter’s Captain (Tim Roth).
The Beautiful Country is an extraordinary movie—a deeply moving story of hope maintained against all odds. It is beautifully photographed, in steely blues and greys on the freighter and lurid reds and yellows in New York, by Stuart Dryburgh, whose began his career as director of photography with three potent features—Angel at My Table, The Piano, and Once Were Warriors). The striking music is by Polish composer Zbignew Preisner.
The movie is full of wonderful performances. Nick Nolte is splendid as an aging Vietnam vet who has managed to come to terms with the troubled life he has led. Roth conveys the world-weariness of the ship’s captain, who has seen it all more than enough times. New Zealand’s Morrison (star of Once Were Warriors) is all business and power as Snakehead.
Bai Ling gives a great performance as a young woman who is all but dead inside, but who is able to find hope in Binh and his young brother. And Nguyen is outstanding as the young man who has every reason to give up his quest, but who persists and endures.
Norwegian director Hans Petter Moland, was hand-picked by the movie’s co-producer Terence Malik (director of Badlands, Days of Heaven, The Thin Red Line, and The New World), who began developing the movie with scriptwriter Sabina Murray.
Moland’s work is exemplary. He manages the international cast and crew with great skill. And the scenes in Vietnam, in the Malaysian refugee camp, on board ship, in a hellish New York City, and in Texas are realized with great freshness and extraordinary vividness.
—John Bloomfield (January, 2006)
posted by John Bloomfield at 9:17 PM
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