TIFF 2026: The World Before (dir. Yoon Dan-bi) | Review

TIFF Platform always picks films that feel urgent — works that want to push back against the ordinary. I think of the section as a gamechanger, as just getting selected there already feels like a victory. Twelve films stand for the Platform Prize, and among them, director Yoon Dan-bi’s contribution arrives with a whisper — yet its focus is deeply familiar, echoing something we’ve all seen, heard, and felt.

Jin (Sim Su-bin) is grieving following the funeral of Grandma Sunnam. She had previously brought the elderly woman to her residence after finding her disoriented due to age and had consistently attended to her needs — despite not being a biological relative. During the funeral, Jin notices that Grandma Sunnam’s grandson, Dujae (Kim Eo-jin), who is also Jin’s childhood friend, has returned to the village. She decides to initiate a conversation with him. As time passes and more visits take place, something begins to grow in Jin’s heart. She navigates her adolescent life, searching for the longing that every heart has always known.

The film fills itself with the kind of family conversations we all long for, the warmth that lingers in the room. The director holds each exchange with care — slow, deep, unhurried, setting comfort to settle in the space between words. In observing Jin, Dujae, and their extended family, we detect an underlying magnetism within each member — a subtle attraction that enables emotional comprehension and connection. Though not immediately visible, it is palpably present. Credit goes to the director’s screenplay for its attention to minute details — the overlooked moments that carry significant weight. It constructs a cinematic world that mirrors reality, where people grow close in ways that matter.

If director Dan-bi’s name is new to you, her previous film, Moving On (winner of the Bright Future Award at Rotterdam International Film Festival), might ring a bell. In it, you feel the weight she gives to family bonds, the quiet connections that make us believe. A touch of Koreeda lingers, making it something deeper. In the same vibe, this film presents a gradual process of mutual discovery, marked by reminiscence and an appreciation for the passage of time. Simultaneously, it acknowledges the persistence of the past — difficult questions emerge, and memories one wishes to suppress resurface in unexpected places. They may even arise when circumstances appear ideal.

Dan-bi gives us a 360-degree view of how we once looked at love — how it leaves its marks, how it moves through its Cupid-shaped phases. It’s the starter kit for the young, the blueprint of becoming, in that tender, awkward, beautiful part of life. I’ve said it before — this is a passage we all walk through. It’s almost a ritual, a fundamental course in being human. And it doesn’t just mark us — it shapes us, shows us who we are and who we might become. The first quiet step towards knowing what we long for in another, in ourselves. This is the beginning of growing up — when what’s inside finally makes its way outward. The film showcases the season of first feelings — affection, jealousy, the pull of attraction, the grip of possessiveness — a storm of emotions that lifts us and loosens us, all at once. While the film doesn’t forget its focus on good food (almost mouthwatering), where shared meals become a quiet symbol of family love woven into the scenes, a particular scene might stay with you — the beach, the silence, the two of them locked in a wordless gaze. No dialogue, just everything unsaid passing between them. That, my friend, is unforgettable.

Eventually, the film asks: do you still remember the beginning of your first love? We all do, I think. We will never forget. The World Before offers a quiet antidote for those tender wounds, right in the corners we didn’t know we were hiding.

The 51st edition of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) runs September 10–20, 2026