Seunghee You

                                                                                                                           





 In Kogonada’s film After Yang (2021), Yang appears as a humanoid robot. His outward appearance is almost indistinguishable from that of a human, yet he is ultimately nothing more than a machine created through technology. In the film, Yang possesses vast knowledge and excellent communication skills, living as a member of a family. However, despite this, a subtle barrier can be felt between him and the human family members.

Watching the father, who has found something he loves and made it his profession, Yang begins to wish that he, too, could feel passion for something. Yet Yang understands that such autonomous emotions are impossible for a robot, and so he resigns himself, pretending that it does not matter. Although Yang outwardly claims that his life as a robot is fine, there is a bitterness in his eyes—a longing to experience a human life in which one can think freely, choose independently, and truly live.

As I watched the film, I couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Yang, a robot created solely for the sake of humans. Though he is an intelligent being who thinks and behaves almost exactly like a human thanks to advanced technology, he is limited in his ability to experience subtle emotions, deep emotional communion, and imagination about the invisible world. Because of these limitations, it feels as though something perpetually out of reach traps and frustrates him even more.

When Yang meets another humanoid robot friend, Mitski’s song “Glide” plays, featuring the lyrics:
“I wanna be, I wanna be.
I wanna be just like the sky.
Just fly so far away.
To another place.”

Just as religion is something only humans can possess, humans can imagine invisible realms such as reincarnation, the afterlife, heaven, and hell. Through such imagination, humans are able to soar endlessly through the sky. Yang, however, cannot have religion, nor can he imagine an afterlife. Therefore, he cannot fly.

Toward the end of the film, Yang’s younger sibling wakes up at night and comes into the living room to drink water. When the father offers to get the water for the child, the child insists on doing it alone. The child then recalls that when Yang was around, they would come out of their rooms and meet in the middle to drink water together. The father responds by asking why they didn’t simply ask Yang to fetch the water for them. The child replies, “I like drinking the water I get myself.”

As humans grow into adults, we develop rational and logical ways of thinking, leading us to seek greater convenience and efficiency. Yet in doing so, we often lose something important. As the child’s words suggest—“I like the water I get myself”—humans are, at their core, autonomous beings who instinctively wish to use their own senses, think for themselves, and make their own choices.

How grateful we should be for the simple act of choosing a toothbrush in the color we like, squeezing out toothpaste in our preferred flavor, brushing our upper teeth, molars, lower teeth, and tongue, waking ourselves up, and feeling that refreshing sensation. These ordinary moments are, in fact, deeply meaningful acts filled with quiet gratitude.