The story unfolds in a central Vietnamese fishing village, where Canh, a former soldier, returns after more than two decades away. War tore him from his wife, Thoa, and in his years of absence, he built a new life in the North with his second wife, Tâm, and their daughter, Gianh. But Canh’s homecoming is anything but simple. Thoa, despite years of solitude, clings to the hope of rekindling what was lost, while Tâm must navigate the unsettling reality of sharing her husband with another woman’s past. Surrounding them are Huy, a one-legged war veteran, and Hoa, a young woman yearning for love and connection. Their stories intertwine in a deeply poignant meditation on the weight of history and the impossibility of fully leaving the past behind.
What sets Doi Cát apart from earlier post-war films is its approach to the war itself, not as a central conflict, but as an omnipresent shadow. The scars of Vietnam’s history are not re-lived through battle sequences but through the unshakable remnants of trauma, found in lingering glances, unfinished conversations, and the painful gap between what was and what is. The film beautifully captures a universal truth: while war may physically end, it never truly leaves those who lived through it.
Visually, the film is stunning. Gone are the rushed productions and makeshift aesthetics of earlier years, Doi Cát boasts striking cinematography that uses the vast, shifting sand dunes as both a literal and metaphorical backdrop. The dunes are ever-changing, much like the lives of the characters, forever unstable, always reshaped by forces beyond their control. This, paired with the film’s understated yet deeply expressive performances, makes for an experience that lingers long after the credits roll.
That said, Doi Cát is a heavy watch. The film demands patience, rewarding those willing to sit with its emotional weight and complex characters. It doesn’t just ask who Canh will choose, but rather, how anyone can truly move on when the past walks beside them, whispering its regrets. The secondary characters, Huy and Hoa, further enrich the film’s exploration of post-war existence. Their stories, of lost limbs, lost love, and the quiet pain of navigating a world that has no place for them, add layers of humanity that make Doi Cát so much more than a love triangle. It’s about survival in every sense of the word.
My viewing experience at the Vietnamese Film Institute (VFI) was fittingly imperfect, an office chair, a flickering screen, staff coming and going, but none of that mattered. The film pulled me in completely, making me forget everything around me. This wasn’t just one of the best Vietnamese films I watched during my two-month research trip, it was one of the best, period.
Final verdict? Doi Cát is a stunning and poetic achievement. A film that captures the beauty and resilience of human beings, even in the face of impossible choices. It deserves to be seen beyond Vietnam, to be remembered by cinephiles worldwide as a true treasure of Vietnamese cinema.