Directed by Charles-Olivier Marchaud, Ru tells the incredible true story of author Kim Thuy (Tinh) upon her arrival in Quebec at a young age. Having emigrated from Vietnam in the 1970s, Tinh and her family faced a perilous journey across the sea in order to start a new life on Canadian soil. Although they receive a warm welcome from the Quebecois locals, Tinh the burden of their journey weighs heavily upon her. For her and her family, this is their new home and new reality. However, despite the love they feel from their community, starting over is never an easy task.
Beautiful and poignant, Ru is an astounding work that sits in the stillness and recognizes the pain of silence. Told with empathy and care, Marchaud taps into the tensions of the immigrant experience by leaning into the psychological challenges of uprooting one’s life and the traumas that can take place along the way.
With long takes and little background music, Marchaud layers his film with a blend of quiet and unease. For example, as Tinh wrestles with her new community, Marchaud manages to make this ‘new world’ carry a sense of discomfort. Whether through the slow (but stationary) pivot of its camera or its motif of mirrors, Ruunderstands the importance of taking in the world around you. In each scene, the camera feels like an ever-watchful eye that’s always working hard to make sense of its surroundings.
Of course, one concern of the film is whether or not Marchaud will be able to portray the immigrant experience in an honest manner. After all, as one who has never had the experience themselves, Marchaud runs the risk of feeling inauthentic in his storytelling. Thankfully though, Marchaud worked closely with Thuy during the film’s development. In doing so, she ensures that her voice comes through as fully on screen as it does on the pages of her memoir.
And her inclusion is essential. With Thuy guiding the project, Ru attempts to unpack the complexities of trauma that can only come from first-hand knowledge. While Ru is empathetic towards the Quebecois community who came out to support the newcomers, it also establishes that they cannot fully understand the trauma that they continue to unpack on a daily basis. As Tinh and her family attempt to chart a new life for themselves, they clearly bring their stories along with them. Each moment feels pregnant with tension as they grapple with the burdens of their travels amidst a group of smiling people who do not understand.
A group who could never understand.
In this way, Ru taps into the disconnect that comes from having lost their homes. They understand that they must move forward in their new lives. But, at the same time, they also bear the weight of losing the only home that they’ve ever known.
What’s more, Marchaud also taps into the ignorance of a generous culture. Here, the Quebecois community is shown to be generous and welcoming. While racial tensions remain present, these locals are mostly willing to open their doors and share their food with Tinh and her family. (After all, Quebecois food is ‘delicious’ so they should like it, right?) Yet, their compassionate hearts neglect to truly listen to the needs of their new neighbours with humility. Only when they are willing to stop and listen can they truly offer the support that they need. For Marchaud, this is the correct tone to take as it seems to recognize the ignorance that can come from cultural divides, even if they have a desire to help. After all, this isn’t their story. Instead, Ru insists that the best way to help is to listen to one another in order to help carry one another’s burdens.
Therein lies the true beauty of Ru. By bringing Thuy’s experiences to life onscreen, it requires nothing of the viewer but to sit quietly and listen. For Marchaud and Thuy, that sort of humble engagement is what matters most.
Ru is available in theatres on Friday, January 26th, 2024.
