TIFF 2024: The Mother and the Bear (by Johnny Ma) | Review
The English-language-based South Korean new wave films are a passage to cinematic heaven right now. Movies like Minari and Past Lives have shed light on the South Korean diaspora in astonishing ways, and their appeal has spread across audiences (and the film industry too), solidifying their position as an independent modern genre. The 2024 Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) this year has given its share of the wave here, which includes Johnny Ma’s The Mother and the Bear.
In the cold, frigid climate of Winnipeg, Sumi (Leere Park), a schoolteacher, slips and falls upon discovering a wild bear in the streets. Her caring and anxious mother, Sara (Kim Ho-jung), flies from South Korea to Winnipeg to visit her daughter, who has fallen into a coma and is hospitalized for recovery. While she waits for her daughter to recover, she starts to live up to her motherly vows—finding a suitable husband for Sumi, a task that will often prove to be more difficult and incomprehensible than she would anticipate.
In his new feature, Johnny Ma portrays the silhouettes of middle-aged mothers from an Asian perspective, where marriage is viewed as a necessity, a form of blessing and expectation, and a permanent responsibility of parents (in this case, a mother) once the appropriate age has arrived. In particular, Sara exhibits an unusual attachment to her daughter, reflecting her need for emotional support following the loss of her husband and the subsequent feelings of isolation. Think of Sara as the purest form of a South Korean woman who was chased into the magical ‘Narnia’ wardrobe and left in Winnipeg to survive. The film takes us on a journey of a lost woman finding familiarity in a foreign world and exerting her influence to stabilize her life. Ironically, she perceives it as a means to maintain her cultural identity while allowing herself to function normally in an uncertain reality.

However, Johnny sets the stage for a gradual tuning session. Inducing a 90s vibe into the atmosphere, Johnny crafts Sara to turn into a change inhaler, redeeming her thoughts to embrace fresh, exciting possibilities she has never encountered—a form of self-discovery at most. Her transformation bursts onto the screen, revealing a youthful mindset for connections, an exhilarating revelation at its best. It’s almost like a reincarnation of Eat Pray Love by Ryan Murphy, where Sara’s kimchi preparation stands high and mighty, her prayers for her daughter’s recovery never diminish, and her love for her own culture manifests. Kim Ho-jung’s Michelle Yeoh doppelgänger vibe doesn’t blur off the screen; it’s almost exciting to witness her effortlessly expressing the satisfaction of taking a break from cultural barriers and patriarchy and relishing the sweetness of it, despite being vulnerable to the drawbacks of being naive as well. In the context of the “animal kingdom,” Sara represents a liberated bird, freed from the confines of her caged life and the predatory influence of patriarchy. Speaking of animals, the mysterious bear in an artsy touch represents a route for evolving in some capacity, a boon for a fresh start, similar to the depiction of bears in Anthony Chen’s The Breaking Ice.
“What a journey!” is the right phrase I’d say, witnessing how the film uplifts not just Sara but us along the way. The Mother and the Bear is a warm, quirky tale of everlasting adventures filled with self-discovery, freedom of choice, and an endless supply of entertainment and unexpected turns. The film is a true celebration of cultures, highlighting the values of accepting advancement, even from those closest to you. Perhaps its innovative approach to family bonding and transformations makes it an ideal choice for film festival programmers worldwide. On that note, Sara’s homemade kimchi still lingers in my mind, prompting me to order a Korean takeaway right now.
Explore our coverage of the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival here.



