Between worlds, immigrants live with dual perspectives

At 12, Haesung and Na-young formed a close bond, but their paths diverged when Na-young emigrated. Twelve years later, they reconnected on Facebook. Living in South Korea and the United States, they affirmed their feelings online but, unable to meet, drifted apart once more. Another 12 years passed before they finally reunited in New York. By then, Na-young was married to an American. Haesung, fully aware of this yet still drawn to her, was consumed by emotions that were both tender and out of reach.

“Past Lives,” directed by Celine Song, draws on her own experiences. The title literally means “previous lives,” a choice that reflects the immigrant’s perspective. For those who leave their homeland, life before and after emigration can feel like entirely different existences, one resembling a past life and the other a present one. New names, nationalities, and languages often follow, shaping what might be called the life of a “borderlander.” Na-young conveys this when she tells Haesung, “The Na-young you loved does not exist here. But that little girl did exist. She is not sitting in front of you, but she is not gone either. Twenty years ago, I left that girl behind with you.”

What, then, is the distinct perspective of borderlanders such as immigrants? It is a vision shaped by discrimination between two identities, yet one that now accepts and embraces both as part of the self. Filmmakers like Maggie Kang of “K-Pop Demon Hunters,” who embody dual identities, are gaining recognition for this outlook. It represents a balanced distance, free from excessive attachment to one nation yet marked by deep affection for the homeland. As South Korea moves further into the global era, this borderland gaze, viewing ourselves from a step away, appears increasingly essential.

“The Na-young you loved does not exist here.”

Celine Song, Past Lives