Hao Are You (2023)

[bunniefuu]

Hello... Hello, Uncle. It's Hao.

- Who?

- Hao.

- What the hell do you want?

- What?

- Do you want to hit me?

- What?

Why would I want to hit you?

I don't know! You're a young man.

- I said...

- I never ever...

- Uncle...

- Don't ever call me again!

I told the hotel reception

that you'd blackmailed me.

If you talk to me again

you'll be arrested.

I told them

that you want to k*ll me.

A FILM BY DIEU HAO DO

By the time I was born,

my family had already survived two wars.

They'd fled twice.

From China to Vietnam

and from Vietnam to Germany.

These are my uncles and aunts.

Seven siblings

who don't speak to each other.

Some haven't for decades.

My name is Dieu Hao Do.

I'm 36 and I want to know

what happened back then.

When I ask my family about the past

there's a lot of crying...

or ranting

or silence.

They agree on only one thing.

It's communism's fault.

HAO ARE YOU

Careful, Mum.

What's that?

Cookies.

Oh, it's from Vietnam.

Damn, why do you keep everything

in H&M bags?

Whatever.

- What's this?

- I don't know.

It's a negative of us as children!

All seven siblings.

What's the meaning of an image?

A memory, an illusion, a longing?

Or all of that?

Uncle 4, Uncle 3...

This is my mother Minh.

She came to Germany in 1981.

Sitting in the kitchen,

I ask about her memories.

Before she starts crying

she often says the same thing.

Once the Communists arrived...

I sacrificed a lot for the family.

These are her siblings.

That's Uncle 1, Little Aunt, Aunt 1....

My uncles and aunts have names too.

But in Cantonese they're numbered.

This is Little Aunt here?

Because of this photo

I got the idea of making this film.

That's one...

As a child, I had to sit in a plane

for ten hours to visit my relatives.

When we saw each other

it felt warm, yet distant

and slightly forced.

Now they don't speak to each other.

My mother thinks the explanation

is obvious.

I've told you already.

We were separated by the Communists.

We all went to different places.

One went to Hong Kong.

One got stuck in Vietnam.

One is here and two are in the US.

But I'll start with myself.

I was born in 1986 in Stadthagen,

a small town in Lower Saxony.

There were three families

who'd fled Vietnam in the early 80s,

The Vongs, the Ngos

and us, the Dos.

Two of the families were Vietnamese.

My family belonged

to Vietnam's Chinese minority.

I wanted you to learn

about Chinese culture.

I wanted you to learn

about Chinese culture.

What your tradition is, your legacy.

That your ancestors are Chinese,

you know?

- Come on.

- My eye!

We want to look inside your nose.

Is that your nose?

We're recording.

We need a little bit of Chinese.

China, more precisely Beijing.

12 p.m.

Good morning.

I sang that in the choir.

Back then in Vietnam,

we had a valve radio at home.

When they played music

I stood in front of it listening.

You know it, right?

My passion? I only loved music.

There was no chance

or I'd have studied music.

My brother was the oldest son.

Even he didn't study.

It was pointless.

I never could have spoken

about my wish to study.

My parents never took me to Vietnam.

I flew to Saigon

for the first time when I was 19.

I felt like a tourist

but was aware that somewhere here

was part of my family history.

How old were you

when you met Dad?

- What did you do then?

- Worked in a bank.

I was a cashier.

Your dad was a customer.

When businessmen made deposits,

they brought bags full of money.

His business was across the street.

He knew when I got off work.

He'd sit on a stool in front of his store

and watch me.

At the time, a lot of singers

from Hong Kong and Taiwan visited.

He invited me

to go to a concert with him.

That's how it started.

Did you know he was married

and had children?

FATHER HUY

He didn't tell me.

Sometimes he was with his wife.

Other times he was with me.

One day my mum confronted me.

She told me not to see him.

I kept seeing him, though.

I remember my father Huy

sitting watching the news.

It was in German,

so he watched it three times

on three different channels,

first at 6.45, then at 7 and 8.

My sister and I

usually translated for him.

In Saigon he'd had

his own wholesale rice business.

Were you angry when the new regime

took your business?

Did Germany

ever feel like home to you?

What did you think

when you first met my mother?

Why didn't you tell her

about your wife and kids?

Do you like the music?

Why did you never take the time

to talk about your first 40 years?

I didn't show any signs of weakness.

I was always careful.

Only by marrying your father

did I make myself vulnerable.

They can talk as much as they like.

My siblings were small-minded.

In their eyes the relationship

was a mistake.

But I lived with him, not them.

My father leaving his first family

for my mother

is still a sensitive topic.

It became a stigma for her.

The second marriage

produced my sister San and me.

She's seven years my senior,

born in Vietnam,

and came to Germany

when she was two.

I love her very much.

We agreed that I had to go

on this journey by myself.

When the Communists came,

I had to take care of everything.

Uncle 1 was already in Hong Kong.

Uncle 2 and his wife

went to the countryside.

Uncle 3 was unreliable and never around.

So was the youngest brother.

All the responsibility was on me.

The method the Communists used

was to separate and interrogate families,

father,

mother, children...

You see?

It's so stressful

being questioned day and night.

"Where do you hide

your gold and money?"

My uncles and aunts live on three

continents and have no contact.

Is that because of the escape?

Or the violence they experienced

under communism?

Or the Chinese culture

that my mother is so fond of?

I want to ask

my uncles and aunts myself.

My first stop was Hong Kong,

home of my Uncle Kam-Sang, Uncle 1.

We always got along well

because I followed his rules,

respect, don't contradict,

don't question,

and above all, don't raise your voice.

He also had a clear opinion

on communism.

- No comments.

- No comment?

Communists...

I am not a politician.

Dictatorship.

What does that mean?

I'm the king.

You're the bottom.

You should always obey.

This is the Communist Party.

Absolute!

If you had an enterprise and land,

like your grandpa,

they took everything away.

If you resisted...

sh**t.

Uncle 1 was born in Saigon in 1947.

He left Vietnam at the age of 26,

before the Communists came to power.

In Hong Kong

he started off selling noodles.

A few years later

he opened his first restaurant.

The society is black.

You stand in the dark

and look towards the light.

My standing Number 1.

The eldest brother.

My father sold fabric at the market.

From the age of seven,

I worked for the family.

After school

I went to work at noon.

After school

I went to work at noon.

Every day

I rode around on the motorbike.

I got it for being best at school.

I delivered the fabric.

I was responsible for 50% of the revenue.

Those few cents... Keep them!

- Here, take them.

- No, no, no...

I was scary when I was young.

I had a bamboo stick.

Everyone knelt down.

Apart from your mother

and Aunt 1,

I hit everyone.

The business...

Officially it was my father's.

But outside, out the back,

I controlled all.

And he took care

of his mistress.

She was only ten years older than me.

She lived on the floor above us.

When my mother heard about it,

she wanted to k*ll herself.

She wanted to jump off a bridge.

I was very vulnerable.

I was still a teenager.

I was lonely.

When did you start drinking?

At seven.

At seven.

When I was 18...

my father said to me after a fight

"If you can make it by yourself, then go."

I went to Hue.

For seven months

I worked for the Americans

as a translator and interpreter.

How did the siblings get on?

There was no...

There was w*r all around us.

Relationships were neglected.

We were all on our own.

But that's none of your business.

They are second general.

Second gen.

In Hong Kong I sought to confirm

all I'd learned from books and movies

about the Vietnam w*r.

But my meeting with Uncle 1

showed me

it's not easy to separate

the personal and political.

We spoke less about w*r

and more about family conflicts,

personal wounds

I hadn't known about before.

My second stop was Los Angeles.

My Aunt Muoi lives here.

She's the oldest sibling

and is also called Yi Ma, second mother.

In 1990, she and her daughter Pui Man

were the last to leave Vietnam.

Today, only Pui Man

provides for the family.

Back in the day

the houses were like cages.

It was really hot in the summer.

In Vietnam I'd get up at night and shower

because I was sweating so much.

We lived in District 6.

I remember it started suddenly.

Shots came flying

from across the street.

There were six houses.

We lived in the first house.

Fortunately, as fabric merchants,

Fortunately, as fabric merchants,

they could stack rolls of cloth

behind the door,

so the shots couldn't get into the house.

Our living room was next to the door.

So we ran into the back room

and hid under the beds.

It was far enough away

that the shots didn't reach us.

Once it was over, you could see

the doors were full of b*llet holes.

I didn't enjoy school.

I helped at home

while my siblings went to school.

My father said "Do a traineeship."

So I learned sewing.

If I'd gone to school,

my life wouldn't be so hard today.

I did what I was told to do.

I was the eldest.

I was under the most pressure.

Your mother and Uncle 1

were the best looking.

Next came Little Aunt.

Uncle 3 was handsome too.

Little Uncle and I were the ugliest.

Our mother loved us the least.

The first son is treated like a prince.

In this case,

no one cared about my mother.

Sometimes I can understand my mum.

Because my mum

get married with my daddy,

she don't have love.

So she's always get sick.

She's always get very sad.

So if she not happy,

she's always yelling.

"Do this! Do that!"

She's always angry all the time.

But I know.

But I know.

20 minutes away from Aunt 1

lives Little Aunt Vivian.

They don't speak to each other.

LITTLE AUNVivian is the youngest daughter.

She fled Vietnam on a fishing trawler

in December 1979.

She and my mother used to talk

on the phone every week.

Now they haven't spoken in 19 years.

My husband likes to take photos.

He's taking

a photo of us

as a souvenir.

As a souvenir.

You haven't even finished my hair.

- I look ugly in his photos.

- Don't worry.

Wow, you look so pretty.

- Excuse me?

- You're so pretty.

- Don't you think so?

- Thanks for the compliment.

- Where did you get this photo?

- From my mother.

I have the same picture

in my photo album.

I'm a teenager here.

We didn't care about politics.

We went to school

and did our homework.

After that, I'd go out.

I had a motor cycle.

I rode around and met my friends.

I also played badminton.

Life was simple.

This is a historic moment,

the arrival

of the North Vietnamese regular army

in Saigon, right in the middle of Saigon,

just after 12 o'clock, just after noon.

Here they are,

pouring down the main avenue.

Further up there

is the American embassy.

At this end of the avenue

is the former presidential palace,

which President Thieu left

just over a week ago

and from which General Minh

has today announced

that he will unconditionally

hand over to the new regime.

After the liberation of Saigon,

everything seemed normal.

Suddenly all my friends disappeared.

I told my father.

He said "We don't have to be afraid.

"communism is neutral.

We can still make our own decisions."

He said we couldn't leave.

The soldiers came to Cholon.

I don't know about the Vietnamese.

I didn't have much to do with them.

They went after the Chinese.

Eventually our house

was put under guard.

I was supposed to talk to the soldiers...

keep them happy, be nice.

Your mother was responsible

for hiding the possessions

we had left.

I'm returning to the country

that was once home to my family.

The w*r ended

almost 50 years ago

but only one side

has come to terms with it.

The displacement of over a million

South Vietnamese and Chinese

isn't an issue here.

UNCLE 2

My uncle Sun-Sang lives here. Uncle 2.

He's the only one who didn't leave.

Today he lives with his family in Saigon.

200 metres from the Taiwanese embassy,

he makes a small fortune

as a matchmaker.

He finds Vietnamese women in villages

for Taiwanese men seeking wives.

Are the documents with Sister 6?

The wedding documents.

All right. See you.

I stole money from my father.

I was useless.

I was supposed to join

the South Vietnamese army

but I told my father about it straightaway.

My brother arranged for me

to return home the next day.

Thanks to him

I was able to stay here.

I'd have died otherwise.

Uncle 2 thinks

that Uncle 1 bribed the officer.

I owe him my life,

to tell the truth.

Hundreds of soldiers

died every day.

Now you know...

What was life like after 1975?

- What do you mean?

- Well, after the end of the w*r.

Life was hard.

In what way was it hard?

Doing business was forbidden.

There were only food centres.

The state distributed food coupons.

There was no work.

We had just enough to survive.

Did you want to leave the country?

What do you mean?

Of course!

Even a lamp post

would have left the country.

I was in prison twice.

- Why? What happened?

- I was caught trying to escape.

When was that?

It was 1976.

And 19..

The first time

I didn't have to work.

I was in a prison cell.

Two by two metres.

No light, no sun, nothing.

- No sun?

- I sat in the dark for a month.

I was only let out once a day

to use the toilet and have a shower.

I had more freedom the second time

but was forced to work.

Is communism responsible

for breaking up our family?

I wouldn't say that. I don't know.

No, it's due to political circumstances.

As citizens, we follow the system

and the government of our time.

When the Communists arrived, they asked

"Why are you fighting for the South?"

I asked

"Why are you fighting for the North?

"Those from the North

fight for the North.

"I'm from the South,

I fight for the South."

We follow our political systems.

That's how it is.

Our country is now unified.

The past has been forgotten.

There is only one independent Vietnam.

You live in Vietnam.

You have to say Vietnam is best.

- Or you're dead!

- It's true.

RUPTURE

We lived in Cholon in District 6.

It was fairly safe.

Many people fled.

We were questioned by the Communists.

My father's business

was confiscated.

And our belongings.

At first they left you your home.

They took everything.

We had a TV upstairs

and another one downstairs.

We had a piano from France

I used to practise on.

All gone.

Everything was confiscated.

After that we had nowhere to live.

After our house was confiscated

the neighbours helped us.

Mum lived with them.

Uncles 1, 2, 3 and Little Uncle,

all my brothers disappeared.

- Where were they?

- I don't know. Maybe with friends.

I didn't really care.

They came home for dinner.

No one was around,

only your mother and me.

Besides Little Aunt and my mother,

there was a six-year-old girl,

my cousin Man-Ha,

Uncle 1's daughter.

She lived with Mum and Grandma

after the expropriation,

then followed her parents

to Hong Kong.

When I think of coming

to Hong Kong as a six-year-old,

I didn't want to leave the country.

Your mother and our grandma

had raised me since I was born.

Then I came to Hong Kong.

My parents were like strangers to me.

Also they weren't very loving.

You know, not like a father and mother.

They showed little love or care.

When I was little

the adults used to say to me

"Don't go outside. It's dangerous.

Bombs are falling."

I remember

that they'd sit together at night

counting gold.

They'd count all their gold,

including their jewellery.

They used to sit there.

- Who, my mother?

- Yes, her too.

How much was there to count?

They finished at some point, didn't they?

All I know

is that they turned off the lights,

hid in the room

and counted gold,

quietly and secretly.

I knew it was valuable

but not what to do with it.

- What did they use the gold for?

- To escape.

You had to pay for that.

In the spring of 1978

the currency changed.

My family's gold

was now crucial for survival.

I worked at the bank.

Everyone wanted to change money.

Each family could only change

100,000 dong.

The rest of their money

was worthless.

My mother lost her job at the bank.

My grandfather's business was also seized

New solutions were needed.

Every day I went to the market

to sell fabrics.

If you got caught,

you had to bribe the officials.

With over 800,000 other Chinese,

my mother's family was sent to the country.

The so-called New Economic Zones

soon proved to be uneconomical.

The so-called New Economic Zones

soon proved to be uneconomical.

This was my family's new home

after the expropriation.

An archway with propaganda slogans

and a field behind it.

I used to think my family was targeted

because they were Chinese.

The truth was that Chinese had controlled

legal and ill*gal trade in Saigon.

They were the pillars

of the hated capitalist system.

No one was forced to flee

but as Chinese we couldn't stay.

We knew the Communists

would leave us no room to survive.

My mother finally said

"You've always wanted

to leave Vietnam.

"You leave first

and take a younger brother with you."

I was caught during my first attempt.

I didn't see a boat.

We paid

but the trip never happened.

"This is the police"

is all I heard.

I ran away from the beach to hide.

There were tall bushes nearby.

I squatted down there.

I stayed there

for about ten minutes.

Then a dog came sniffing around.

I whispered

"Go away, go away".

Suddenly I saw a soldier's boots.

My mother was the only relative

to visit Little Aunt

in the re-education camp.

She brought her food and money

which, however, the guards kept.

The place is three hours east of Saigon.

The camp still exists

and political prisoners are still held there.

The whole path was full of red sand.

That's why it's called Red Earth.

Were Little Uncle and Little Aunt

both there?

Little Aunt was freed after three months.

Little Uncle was there for a year.

After the liberation of Vietnam,

we brought these people here

to educate them to be honest citizens,

so they can help rebuild

when they're back with their families.

We teach them Vietnamese traditions,

to love the fatherland

and defend it

against foreign aggression.

They must admit that the US

wanted to take over South Vietnam.

They have sinned

against our people.

They should recognise

their crimes against the Vietnamese.

They should make amends

and improve themselves.

It affects the soul.

When the soul is damaged,

people become irritable.

Have you been hurt?

Yes, that's why I've had to get away.

I need a place

where I can protect myself,

a place where I can protect

my mind and body.

I need a peaceful retreat.

LITTLE UNCLE

Uncle Tin is the youngest sibling,

so everyone calls him Little Uncle.

He came to Germany

with my grandparents in 1981.

I remember him with his head down,

smoking Marlboro cigarettes.

Today he lives in residential care

in Hanover.

Even though I was in prison,

I knew what I had to do.

I was working for the government.

We got up at 4 o'clock.

We washed, brushed our teeth

and had breakfast.

Then we had to work.

- What kind of work?

- Work in the fields.

We had to walk there.

We were there until 5 or 6 p.m.

If we didn't finish,

we didn't get back until 8 or 9 p.m.

Every day there was self-criticism.

For example,

if there weren't enough field hands,

I had to help

using my own initiative.

I had to pay attention

and act on my own initiative.

Otherwise I had to self-criticise.

I had to dispose of faeces.

Were there any effects

on your body?

Physically it was okay.

For the mind it was terrible.

Losing my freedom

had serious effects for me

but in general

I was physically healthy.

I'm like a wild horse,

running back and forth.

No direction.

I just do what others say.

Escaping affected my relatives' lives

in completely different ways.

It seemed there were two groups

within the family,

the strong and the weak.

UNCLE 3

This is Uncle Thang, Uncle 3.

He's the sixth child in the family.

This is his forged birth certificate.

My grandfather

systematically forged documents

to stop his sons

having to join the army.

At the age of 17, he started an

apprenticeship as a mechanic in Saigon.

Then he worked as a journeyman

for two years.

It's said he was caught with cocaine

as a teenager and sent to prison.

Our family was still influential then

and knew a member of parliament.

He spoke to the judge,

the evidence was destroyed

and Uncle 3 was released.

He shouldered too many responsibilities

and wanted to bear them alone.

One day

I was called into a room.

The officer said "We'll let you go."

I was happy.

He asked why I'd wanted to leave.

I said I didn't like the government.

"You have to give us time

"to rebuild the country and reform it."

I said nothing, and he asked

"If I release you,

will you run away again?"

"No, no, I won't."

"Sure, you'll go in the front door,

then out the back."

I started laughing.

And 15 days later

I made my second escape attempt.

In December 1979,

Little Aunt and Uncle 3 managed

to escape via the South China Sea.

Both had paid ten ounces of gold.

I still don't understand

why the gold was spent on escaping,

not on buying Little Uncle

out of the re-education camp.

It would have cost the same.

Was the only choice

sacrificing one to save the other two?

At the time,

the night before your escape,

did you...

That night, did you say goodbye

to your siblings?

Only to my mother.

"Mother, I'm leaving now."

- What did she say?

- She cried.

I didn't cry.

I was glad to leave Vietnam.

The second attempt was semi-official.

The government cooperated

with the fishermen.

The government cashed in.

My mother gave me 20 dollars

for my escape.

I took Uncle 3 with me.

The movement A Ship for Vietnam

has chartered a third ship,

the German freighter Cap Anamur,

which is to help refugees

in Southeast Asian seas.

Government spokesman Blling

has said

that refugees rescued by German ships

who cannot enter another country

will be granted asylum here.

When we reached the open sea,

we encountered a German cargo ship.

Between 1979 and 1987,

the Cap Anamur rescued,

besides Little Aunt and Uncle 3,

more than 11,000 boat people.

In 1979 Little Aunt and Uncle 3 made it

but 250,000 others didn't.

Some drowned.

Some encountered Thai pirates

who robbed, kidnapped,

r*ped or k*lled them.

In Westminster Memorial Park

south of LA

is a memorial commemorating

all those who died trying to escape.

Over 6000 names

are engraved here.

To get to France, Australia,

Canada or the US,

people had to go

to a refugee camp in Thailand.

They had to wait up to five years

in these camps.

I just thought "Go to the place

where they'll take you in."

15 days later

I was on a plane to Germany.

Bezahlen.

That's German for "to pay".

After three months

I applied for family reunification.

My father didn't want to leave Vietnam.

He was afraid.

My mother said

"If you don't go, I'll go alone."

In the end, my father

adjusted to Germany

better than my mother.

WOUNDS

After Little Aunt left...

I had to take care of everything.

I organised the papers

for my parents to leave the country.

I was pregnant with your sister

in the New Economic Zone.

In 1979, my parents got married

in the New Economic Zone.

No one from the family came,

although my grandparents

and three siblings were still there.

Everyone was ready to leave

except for Little Uncle,

who'd been sent

to re-education camp at 17.

If you do government work,

you learn a lot.

Then you're different

from the others.

After liberation

I helped with the reconstruction

of the country.

Only your parents

are more important than the state.

The ten-year plan

had not yet been fully implemented

but we were already leaving.

Five years after liberation

I left for Germany.

Uncle 1 didn't flee the Communists.

He fled because of gambling debts.

If I'd been born ten years later,

I'd be a successful man.

It was a mistake to gamble.

I also helped my family a lot.

I gambled using the money

of the bank where I worked.

I owed them tens of millions of dong.

I couldn't stay.

Anyone wanting to eat Vietnamese food

comes to me.

Anyone wanting to eat Vietnamese food

comes to me.

In the 1970s chef Lao Hui

came to Hong Kong because of the w*r.

His Vietnamese cuisine

is authentic, traditional

and to the taste

of Hong Kong people.

My Vietnamese food is better

than the food in Vietnam.

- Fei.

- Hi.

Here's a French sandwich

as an appetiser.

Looks delicious...

Thank you.

I'll get back to work.

For 40 years

I worked hard in Hong Kong.

My wife is bad.

She only thinks about money.

Everything I built,

she took away from me.

I bought two apartments.

Both are gone.

I had a restaurant.

My wife and son took all the money.

She also took the bond.

She forced me to retire.

Now I have nothing.

COUSIN ANNADEE

As a child, I got along best

with his younger daughter, Annadee.

We're only one year apart.

Whenever we meet,

we're thick as thieves.

- Tai-Chi is much slower.

- He can't really do it.

- All the movements are wrong.

- Cut this from your documentary.

Look at his back.

His stance is all wrong.

Did you have a time when you spoke

about why is our family...

- No, we didn't talk about this.

- Never?

We have too many problems of our own

to criticise the extended family.

I think his childhood experiences

have made him

the person he is today.

If his experiences

have shaped his personality,

then it affects

how he deals with us and others.

As eldest son

he was used to being in charge.

- Exactly.

- He always had the final say...

He passed that onto us,

onto his immediate family.

He has a strong sense

of class consciousness.

This generation, we are...

He sees hierarchies.

No democracy.

"I'm the one to make the call."

None of the children call

and ask after me.

"Father, happy birthday."

Do I really have

two daughters and a son?

We're born with nothing.

Why are we so brutal

to each other?

What do you want me to say?

I've failed.

Back when I was 13 years old,

I had a plan.

It would work today too

but I never acted on it.

A suicide attempt.

Just to scare him.

I was sure he'd ask

"Why did you do it?"

when I was in the hospital.

I'd say "Because of you."

I'd tell him how I felt.

He'd finally listen to me

because it's about my life.

There is a chain from our grandfather's

to our parents' generation.

Now it continues in our generation.

And we carry it on

into the next generation.

This is the reason why

I don't want to give birth.

Except my cousin Pui Man,

all the children of my uncles and aunts

are childless.

Is this coincidence

or the result

of decades of violence?

or the result

of decades of violence?

Is there no other way to deal

with our toxic family structures

than to give up?

Have you heard from Uncle 3?

Some say he went back to Vietnam.

Others say he died long ago.

Apparently he spat blood

and was taken to hospital.

I don't know where he is...

whether he's alive or dead.

No one had told Little Uncle

and nor can I right now.

His older brother, Uncle 3,

died of a stroke in 2017.

He was the only sibling

who visited Little Uncle regularly.

It's blurry.

It's blurry.

Here, this photo...

Uncle 3 fled by sea

with Little Aunt in December 1979.

He found asylum in Germany.

His dream was to work

at Volkswagen as a mechanic.

Little Aunt shared this love of cars,

by the way.

He worked as a kitchen hand

in Chinese restaurants until his death.

Uncle 3 was playful.

He was naive.

We were close.

We escaped together.

He was very kind

and had a good heart.

A good heart...

We were close.

How much disappointment

was there between the siblings?

The deeper I go into the memories,

the more lost I get.

Is there a link between the Vietnam w*r

and our family's fragmentation today?

Yes.

The Vietnam w*r separated many families,

not just mine.

That has pros and cons.

They were scattered

across different continents.

Some families have succeeded

in having reunions every few years

and they're happy.

Even when we lived in Vietnam,

relatives lived their own lives

once they married.

Everything has its consequences.

Grandpa had a dark side.

He badmouthed his children.

That's why the family

is so complicated today.

This is my grandfather Hue.

The summer I turned 14,

he taught me tai chi.

I found him pretty laid back.

After everything I've heard

from my uncles and aunts,

I now imagine him

as an all-overshadowing father figure.

They say his father was an opium addict

who gambled away the family's money.

Do you know why your mother

and Little Aunt lost touch?

Because of Grandpa?

Her hatred runs deeper than mine.

Sometimes I'd call Grandfather.

He cried every time.

He liked orange juice

and asked your father to buy him oranges.

He gave him money and your father said

"If you want juice, squeeze it yourself."

"I'm old. I can't see well."

"I'm old. I can't see well."

Each morning he squeezed oranges

and wiped the table clean.

Then your father would come to check.

If it was dirty,

your father would want Grandfather

to wipe it again.

Your mother was the same.

My mother Minh is the second daughter.

In 1981, she followed my grandparents

to Germany.

After I was born, she worked

in a fish shop for over 30 years.

On my journey

she was my closest confidant

and the biggest obstacle because

she likes to claim to know the truth.

When I see happy siblings

I get sad.

I wonder what happened to us.

My parents didn't teach us

to get along well with each other.

The siblings didn't have

a sense of family.

They were always on the go.

Among the siblings,

Little Aunt and I were the closest.

Your mother

should have been born a boy.

She'd k*ll without batting an eyelid.

She's ruthless.

She should have been in business.

Even Uncle 1 can't compete.

He's too straightforward.

I haven't spoken to her for 19 years.

I don't understand

why she's so mad at me.

It used to be different.

It was only when our father badmouthed us

that the rupture came.

Grandfather gave me the most money.

Little Aunt hated me for it.

"You took Father's money."

Yes, he gave it to me.

I didn't ask him for it.

He took pity on me, you know?

I don't want anything to do with them.

I don't go hungry any more.

She's sacrificed herself

to protect her younger siblings.

That's how she is. She's still like that.

Today she does it for her grandchildren.

If I asked her out to dinner

she'd only eat rice.

I'd order four or five dishes.

"Eat as much as you like."

But she'd only eat rice.

After Little Aunt

brought me to the United States...

I don't know what happened

but she kicked us out after three months.

With her it's all about

cleaning the house and cooking.

Anything beyond that

she doesn't understand.

We don't have anything in common.

In the last few years

I've almost forgotten about her.

I have low self-esteem.

First, I'm poor.

I'm afraid people look down on me.

Second, I'm uneducated.

Others don't like me.

Third, I'm ugly.

My brothers and sisters

look down on me.

I feel as if I don't have any relatives.

Is it true

that before you left Vietnam

you gave Uncle 2 the house as a gift?

Where he lives today,

he bought that house with my dowry.

It was my dowry.

I decided what I wanted to do with it.

I'm sad

because he hasn't rung me.

My two grandchildren

are enough for me.

My two grandchildren

are enough for me.

I'll teach them to take care

of their mother when I'm dead,

to protect their mother.

They'll protect their mother

from other people.

Time, money...

energy...

I gave everything.

Now there's nothing left.

The sacrifice cost me

but it was a good investment.

In my family it's all about responsibility,

who's responsible for whom.

I wanted to appeal to that feeling

and reunite the family

after decades of separation.

Can they reconcile?

Of course I'd be happy

if we were together.

A reunion is something special.

It's over 10,000 kilometres away.

It's not a three-hour flight.

Our bodies are old.

This is the last chance.

You can explain that

to your aunt.

Yes, let's see what happens.

Tell her "You're still

brothers and sisters.

"This will be the last chance."

See how she reacts.

It's been over 40 years

since Aunt 1 and Uncle 2,

who she bought a house for, last spoke.

I reconnect them,

hoping that Uncle 2

can convince her

to return to Vietnam one last time.

- Hello?

- Uncle 2?

- Hello?

- Uncle 2, this is Hao.

- Yes, I know.

- I'm at Aunt 1's place in LA.

- Put her on the phone.

- Okay.

Hello, Big Sister.

It's your brother.

It's you! You still remember.

You still remember that I exist.

- You still remember your poor sister.

- Don't say that.

I'd like to suggest this.

Come and visit me in Vietnam.

It will be on us.

We'll pay for your flight and expenses.

We'll give you presents.

- No, I don't want to...

- Why not?

I have lots of illnesses

and can only see out of one eye.

I can't sleep and I go to the toilet a lot.

I can no longer do

a lot of things for myself.

I'm glad you remember me.

Thank you.

Don't talk like that.

I'm the poorest among us.

Thank you for remembering.

It's a miracle you rang.

Soon there'll be world peace.

There'll be no more w*r,

thanks to Hao.

If he hadn't pushed,

you'd never have rung, right?

Admit it.

- Don't say that, Big Sister.

- Admit it!

Hao asked you to do it, didn't he?

You know...

after all these years

I was happy to hear his voice again.

Now I can die in peace.

I'm so old I can't travel any more.

The main thing is to stay healthy.

Not if your mother comes!

- Even if you don't see each other?

- Not if she's in Vietnam.

I won't meet her because of...

your grandpa.

You know how much your grandpa cry?

Too much.

Because of your mum.

That's why I despise her.

She didn't even spare Grandpa.

Without her

our family would be peaceful.

I can't bear it any more,

hearing about family conflicts

without a filter.

It's not only exhausting,

I also don't understand

I also don't understand

the way you all talk about each other.

Don't worry about it.

Little Aunt has a problem.

This all happened decades ago.

She won't let go.

That's why she suffers.

She doesn't see

what she's done herself

and blames others.

As a child,

I had a recurring nightmare.

I had to build a tower

over ten metres high.

When I tried to push a brick

into the centre of the tower, it collapsed.

I started to cry

because the task seemed impossible.

Every attempt to build the tower and

give it stability was doomed to failure.

I now know it wasn't about

building the tower,

but about finding ways

to deal with its collapse.

I mustered my courage

to try to create something

that perhaps never existed.

As I left Los Angeles, I couldn't

shake off the feeling of failure.

44 YEARS OF REUNIFICATION

44 YEARS

OF SOUTH VIETNAMESE LIBERATION

Now all the shops

have Vietnamese names.

- Were they in Chinese before?

- Yes, all of them.

Or both, Vietnamese and Chinese.

The Chinese used to show off.

Why?

Because they had money.

- That was the cinema.

- The Ping An.

It became a shopping mall

a long time ago.

- I was still here.

- What movies did you watch?

- Hong Kong movies.

- And Westerns.

- Which ones?

- Hollywood movies.

A friend of ours

showed Hollywood movies.

What were your favourite movies?

Porn.

From Hollywood?

Not in Vietnam.

He's talking nonsense.

- He didn't watch porn.

- Porn at the cinema?

- Really?

- Yes.

There were no movies

like that at the cinema.

I didn't get all of them together.

But I convinced my mother and Uncle 1

to come to Vietnam.

Uncle 2 lived here

but he had more important things to do.

The door's the same colour.

The second and third floors

have been added.

The windows used to be wooden.

Uncle 3 and Little Uncle

were born here.

They were born here?

What a strong feeling.

I'm at the place

my father lived as a child.

I can't put the feeling into words.

- Really?

- Yes, it's hard to describe.

It's so dirty here!

The living room was here.

It was funny.

The moment I'd imagined as emotional

had become a sedate sightseeing tour.

- They sold food here.

- The Vietnamese sold fabrics there.

You know how much money

I lost in this house?

I played a lot and always lost.

Where is that son of a b*tch?

They marked the cards.

- Your mother was small and strong.

- Like me!

A good woman... It was for fun.

For food. Buy some rice.

Don't refuse.

You gave it freely.

Don't say they ripped you off.

At the first dinner, I felt I'd

accomplished at least part of my mission.

Three of the seven siblings

were together, after all.

And I was with them.

- Toothache.

- You have a toothache?

And for a while it went to plan.

On the way there I was already uneasy.

Mum couldn't resist badmouthing Uncle 2.

"Your son is useless."

He didn't say a thing.

"Your son is useless.

"You just let people serve you."

Naturally, my uncle complained

about my mother.

No one dares talk to me like that,

not even an official.

Your mother can't talk to me like that.

Not even my big brother does that.

Less than 24 hours had passed

since our arrival.

- What's happening?

- It's heating up.

He's calling people names again.

He's about to explode.

No, you're the best!

Why are you arguing with Little Sister

about the inheritance?

- What inheritance?

- Our father...

- What did he have...

- Nonsense.

- What did he have...

- Nonsense.

What you did, what you did...

You know it very well.

What you have...

How will you eat

if you talk so much?

I'm not hungry any more.

Everything has been said.

You write the history...

So what?

No more pictures with me!

- You're embarrassing everyone.

- I do it all the time!

You're the smart one,

I'm the stupid one.

One more, second more...

Not even communism

could be to blame for all this.

- Was Grandpa like that?

- No.

He was choleric

but he didn't drink, smoke or gamble.

Uncle 1 likes to drink and gamble.

He doesn't smoke.

He was addicted to gambling

and had to flee to Hong Kong.

Arsehole...

He thinks I took Father's inheritance.

What inheritance?

He's crazy.

I distributed all the money

Father left us.

I did everything

that was written in his will.

Which inheritance

could I have withheld?

The inheritance...

Our brother doesn't know a thing.

Whatever Father left you,

I've told no one.

In 1954, my grandfather had a photo taken

in Saigon's District 6.

Almost 70 years later,

it sent me on this journey.

Hurry up and take the photo.

I'm getting a headache.

- Write down the numbers you want.

- Okay.

We're in public.

Please don't yell.

- That's how I want...

- No.

I don't want to see any more.

This picture over...

70 years ago, 70 years ago.

I don't like it...

Scolding people.

Will you have one photo taken?

We'll take the last photo.

Last picture. Last!

In my life,

the last picture with you.

- He said he'd be in one photo.

- That's what I thought.

If he doesn't want to, leave it.

Come on, let's take the picture!

Now you three.

Let's take this one, 9071.

Yeah, more...

No.

Leave some room.

Yes, like that... A bit more.

Move over a bit.

Leave a gap.

A bit more...

Leave some room there!

Yeah, more...

Empty space.

Empty? Why empty?

Fill! Fill!

- Take the picture!

- Concentrate.

- More space.

- Ready?

Okay... One more...

When will you?

Smile! All happy!

That one's okay.

For you.

I never thought the Communists

would control us like that.

I didn't know what communism was.

I didn't know it was about government.

I thought we'd go on living like this...

You went to school and didn't know?

Not even our mother knew.

Our mother...

Our mother was illiterate.

Why is the relationship

between you all so bad?

- Ask your mother.

- But all of you are responsible.

- Why is it?

- Because we don't love each other.

We haven't been together for ages.

That's the reason.

It's all because of you.

What about you and Little Sister?

You know why you're unhappy?

You can't let anything rest.

- You're unhappy too.

- I'm fine.

- Then be happy!

- I am.

- You destroyed another family.

- And you're the best.

- I'm Number 1, you're Number 2.

- Stop it.

No one can talk to him...

He's out of his mind.

- Don't get me started.

- Big Brother, that's enough!

- Who's crazy?

- It doesn't matter now.

- Shameful stories.

- I'm not ashamed.

- Everyone can know.

- Go ahead and talk.

- Why are you hitting the table?

- Relax.

What happened next

was also too much for the camera.

It died.

- Go away.

- I'm so mad I want to die.

- If you want to die, go ahead.

- Why don't you get run over?

Chasing a woman's husband.

And now?

He had a family.

You were greedy for his money.

You wanted to be his second wife.

Nothing came of it.

- I don't care how you see me.

- I don't want to see you.

Hello?

Hello, Uncle, this is Hao...

I don't know why you want to hit me.

- Uncle...

- You're a young man.

- Uncle...

- Don't ever call me again.

I told the hotel reception

that you'd blackmailed me.

If you talk to me again

you'll be arrested..

I told them

that you want to k*ll me.

Do you know what your mother did?

She stole our grandfather's money.

Everyone is angry

because she ripped us off.

Hello? Uncle, don't hang up.

Hello?

At my lowest point,

I finally understood

that it was never about

my family's voices, but my own.

It wasn't about forcing a forum

of remembering or reconciliation

but about letting go of something

I was never a part of.

- Do you find me very German?

- You don't even have a beard.

- You don't look white.

- Your eyes aren't blue.

And you haven't been

to a plastic surgeon.

Are you silly?

Why would I do that?

Are you silly?

Why would I do that?

If you get surgery, you'll pass for white.

With a beard and blue eyes.

- No, thanks.

- He didn't want to have a German name.

- Your name is Hao.

- Hao...

So you can remember it.