"We were just born in the wrong country. We were born in the wrong country!"

Became terribly nervous about where this film was going when its first three minutes opened with the typical unexciting mix of archival footage and talking-head interviews, but then the text "This film contains no recreations." showed up on screen, and I've never seen a work of journalism so completely commit to this promise with such unwavering, blisteringly ruthless force. There were at least twelve instances throughout this film where my mouth was agape in shock going, "how the fuck did they manage to get this footage?" (the jungle path footage is nothing short of nerve-shredding), but even outside of how impressive this film's construction is, the on-the-ground approach that the filmmakers follow to its logical extreme serves as an incredibly important piece of tangible testimony.

This isn't just a film about the sheer paranoia, strain, and agony of defecting from North Korea and the history behind the authoritarian brutalities and brainwashing that force people to defect, but also about the maelstrom of emotional agony that the families of defectors experience as they can only wait and hope for their relatives to make it through, relying on the help of a network of deeply unreliable brokers and genuine heroes like Pastor Kim. Truly wish the score had just toned it down, and that one bizarrely edited part of an interview was cut (you'll know it when you get there), but spectacular otherwise in how it intertwines all of these narratives with equal weight. The first great film I've seen from 2023.