TRIBECA 2019 REVIEWS: Bora Kim’s HOUSE OF HUMMINGBIRD goes beyond its coming-of-age framework to give a nuanced and layered character study

The film festival circuit is starting to literally explode with fantastic works from women directors, many of whom are offering their debut features, often far surpassing their more seasoned peers. Korea’s Bora Kim has issued a very strong first entry and a well-earned win in Tribeca’s 2019 International Narrative competition with House of Hummingbird. Wearing the guise of a coming-of-age movie, this is actually a far more nuanced and layered character study of a young woman facing abuse, betrayal and disappointment from almost every corner of her life – and yet remaining almost relentlessly defiant in the face of it all.

The story follows Eunhee, a young lady just trying to get through eighth grade like so many of us have. But just about everything in her life is conspiring to keep her far away from any semblance of happiness. Her parents fight often and waver from indifferent to scarily angry. Her brother regularly beats her, likely out of his own frustration living in the brutal family life these kids endure. While Eunhee does have friends at school, her teachers range from cruel to uninspiring. Then that all changes when she meets her cram school teacher, a gentle and empathetic woman who takes a shine to the precocious youngster.

But let it never be said that every good break life gives us doesn’t have three more unhappy surprises awaiting. Eunhee makes an exciting new friendship with an upperclassman, only to find that relationship headed for unexpectedly rocky waters. A love interest is robustly pursued, but also flails under external pressures. Time after time, no matter how our protagonist tries, roadblocks pop up with little in the way of positive resolution presenting itself. And yet, there is something so genuinely inspiring about how Eunhee faces her adversity which makes the film seem never to be a chore, but rather an exercise in heroic growth which is a joy to watch.

The backdrop for the story is Korea in 1994. During this time of political upheaval, existential fears and tragic disasters which still linger indelibly in the soul of the nation, House of Hummingbird serves not only as a window into a developing child, but also as a retrospect for a traumatized country which still feels the echoes of those turbulent times. Lead actress Ji-hu Park’s passionate performance is equally impactful whether she’s passively taking her lumps or explodes in outbursts of open defiance against her parents, the rigid culture she lives in, or any of the authority figures who stand in her way. Rebellious for all the right reasons, we neither root for her nor disparage her: it’s a pleasure just to watch her be who she is.

So many films about teenagers fall into the same trite tropes of mean girls, #metoo moments and strokes of overwhelming “cool” that it’s easy for viewers to forget what a vulnerable and formative period those years really were. Kim’s lens leaves those phony audience-pleasing sequences behind and reminds us of our own hopes and fears when navigating the treacherous adult world as a budding young person, and does so in so honest a way, don’t be surprised to walk away from the film with a deep sense of gratitude. House of Hummingbird welcomes our older selves back to the idealism too many of us have left behind without glossing over the great loss we’ve all suffered just to get through growing up.