Stories like this always bring me to my knees, in part because of their emotional power, and in part because they remind me that however I might view my troubles in life, they're ridiculously small in comparison.
Oh, Saigon is an organic, one hour documentary from Doan Hoang, a Vietnamese American who escaped the fall of Saigon with her family when she was three years old, and at 35 was probing their history, which had often been left unspoken and included relatives she didn't know about. There may be some of the usual types of experiences and tensions for first generation immigrants, e.g. Bullying at school for her brother, and her parents desire to have them be "American" outside the house, "Vietnamese" at home, but when it comes to the aspects of leaving Vietnam and then returning to it decades later to see old family members, there are some really hard to fathom, heartbreaking elements.
Hoang's father had gone to the equivalent of West Point in Vietnam and fought his whole life against the communists, then had to flee with his family literally on the last helicopter out of Hanoi. He describes climbing over a gate jam-packed with people, flying away from his homeland that he never wanted to leave, and feeling like a failure. He'd gone from flying planes to washing them in America, and his wife had gone from socialite to seamstress. He has brothers back in Vietnam, one of whom fought with the communists from a very young age, who view him as a traitor to their country, something which came out during a rather shocking interview. The mother explains that he never made friends in Louisville, their adopted home, and simply watches television at night.
The mother describes the terror of leaving Saigon as the communists closed in, hiding in a creek bed while being shot at, and we see footage of families in a similar situation at the time, absolutely terrified. She also describes her guilt over losing track of her eldest daughter from her first husband (who was killed in the war), and then having to leave the country without her.
This daughter, Hoang's half-sister, then escaped the country as a "boat person" six years or so later, enduring an attack from Thai pirates in which they sank her boat, took her aboard, and (after presumably raping her for days; she doesn't want to talk about it in the present) threw her overboard. Kept afloat by a barrel, she somehow managed to swim to a beach, where she was pummeled by storms for a week. When she made it to America she fought with her parents and left for California, but has now reunited with the family for the film, and to go visit Vietnam for Tet.
As the family travels in Vietnam towards what is now Ho Chi Minh City, they argue, with the eldest daughter often dawdling at stops or to get to the van - almost as if she's subconsciously testing them or forcing them to wait for her when they didn't all those years ago. What initially seemed like mundane squabbling soon became riveting when things boil over with her parents, forcing the airing of the painful emotions that had been buried. There are so many ways this family is fractured - along ideological lines, by "Americanization" of the kids, and through traumatic events during the war - and yet the film is an affirmation of their common bond, both as Vietnamese and as family.
This would pair well with other accounts, like Thi Bui's graphic novel The Best We Could Do, or with any of Hollywood's big films about the war, like Apocalypse Now, for a refreshing perspective shift. I'm really glad I caught it on the Criterion Channel.
