So Yun Um grew up in a liquor store. Her parents own a liquor store in the greater Los Angeles, and she’s spent a massive amount of her life in that store, learning what it means to be a business person–but even more important what it means to be a Korean liquor store owner living in America. She and a friend, Danny Park, have been molded by liquor stores and their Korean immigrant parents, but they both have bigger dreams. So desperately wants to be a filmmaker, but that is a difficult career to get into, and separating from her parents will prove to be just as difficult. Liquor Store Dreams is So’s story and her journey toward all she’s ever dreamed of.
Every once in a while the opening scene of a film, whether a documentary or a narrative, tells you all that you need to know regarding what you’re about to watch. You can imagine how beautiful or how dreadful the rest of the film is based on how the director develops the opening sequence–Liquor Store Dreams is one of those films. So Yun Um is a brilliantly talented filmmaker who fully understands the intricacies of cinematography and all that goes into the production of a film. As Liquor Store Dreams opens, and So’s father, Hae Sup Um, mops up his liquor store, the world begins to fall in love with him–they can appreciate the time and effort that he puts into his craft (because let’s be honest, owning a business is an artform). Whether it was So’s intention to have viewers fall in love with her father or the idea of what her father built, she reaches viewers, and she pulls them into her story from the jump. The question is really about how she’s able to do this. She captures the beautiful colors of the liquor store, the passion on her father’s face, and encompasses all the things that make both her and her father’s stories relatable to those watching. She is a true master of the camera, and she is certain to find success in the future if it’s something that she sets her mind to.
That’s a lot of good, but there’s a piece of the documentary that will likely not appeal to the masses, and that’s the political commentary that exists throughout. The reality is that the political and racial narratives that exist aren’t forced into the film, however, they occur organically and they are relevant to Liquor Store Dreams. This narrative plays a role in what So has to say, and it plays a massive role in who she’s become as a person and a filmmaker–and for those reasons the politics are both understood and appreciated by those willing to overlook the fact that politics play a role at all in Liquor Store Dreams.
So possesses a quality that can’t be taught. Sure she understands how to create a film, she knows how to reach her viewers through cinema, and she pieces together a wonderfully riveting film. However, what she does better than anything else is make herself accessible and entertaining. Liquor Store Dreams is a film that focuses on a number of individuals, but So remains the focus throughout. She’s charming, relatable, and interestingly familiar. It’s easy for each and every viewer to understand So and to see pieces of themselves in her. She’s passionate, and her passion is clear from the very first minute–and her ability to capture an audience simply through who she is is incredible.
Liquor Store Dreams has the potential to aggravate a number of viewers as it dabbles in themes of politics and race–but its relevance allows portions of that discussion to be welcome and even appreciated. What Liquor Store Dreams does perfectly throughout its entirety is create a relationship between viewers and the individuals on screen. The relationships forged throughout the course of Liquor Store Dreams keep viewers intrigued from beginning to end–and this documentary is absolutely a success as a result of all that So is able to create in this department.
Directed by So Yun Um.
Starring So Yun Um, Hae Sup Um, Danny Park, May Part, etc.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐/10
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