Indy Film Fest: Year of the Cat
The four-year journey of a man who traversed the globe to find the truth about his father. Albeit a success, there is thematically much left unanswered.
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Absence can signify differing feelings in an individual. Some might find themselves absent from the ones they love. Others might find it in something or an idea that they can not quite envision. In Tony Nguyen’s case, his latest documentary, “Year of the Cat,” chronicles the traumatic impact of not knowing one’s father. Moreover, not knowing his father undoubtedly left a significant gap in Nguyen fortifying his identity.
Nguyen begins his pursuit to find the truth about his father as we probably all would do in that situation—ask his mother (Giap Thi Nguyen). There is a problem, though. Nguyen's mother is as unaware as he is about the whole ordeal. One can surmise that 50 years after having to flee your hometown of Saigon (now referred to as Ho Chi Minh City) allows for a lot of time to forget.
After a tearful, much-needed conversation between Nguyen, his half-sister (Kimberly Tran), and his mother, he gets his first breakthrough. His father is not the man listed on the birth certificate. Instead, the focus turns to finding a man named Nguyen Huu Loc.
Following his initial conversation with his mother, Nguyen started to branch out his search. He teams up with who would eventually become the associate producer for the project, Kyle Le. They begin their attempt to narrow down the possible individuals by driving throughout California to talk to every Vietnamese man with the name “Loc.”
In the conversations with the different men and with Le, it became quite evident how desperate Nguyen is becoming to uncover the truth. He often reverts to a stubbornness and an all-consuming persona on-screen. The most riveting part of the film is not anything related to the actual events and new people being told. It is the spare moments we get of Nguyen bursting into tears, encouragement from his family, and how he deals with temporary shortcomings that stand out.
Sprinkled in with his quest to find Nguyen Huu Loc, he also relied on the support of his formerly unbeknownst first cousin, “Z.” He started a correspondence with her following his 23andMe ancestry test with his cousin Teo Nguyen. For Nguyen, finding “Z” seemed to be the breakthrough he needed to find the truth. For “Z,” it was anything but a convenience.
What was probably obvious to everyone but Nguyen was that “Z” did not have the same motivation to mend this incomplete family. She remained furtive (not replying to messages for months), often doubted Nguyen would succeed in his endeavor, and neglected to share an impassioned video Nguyen made for her to share with her side of the family. In dramatic fashion, we then had “Z’ ask Nguyen to stop asking her for assistance. Nguyen is left with no more help from "Z" and no more reaching out to her extended family. Around the same time, he accepts that this man named “Loc” is not his father.
In Nguyen’s quest for answers, it seemed that every new clue or lead found along the way required more time. Nguyen noted he was at a low point after his connection with “Z’ came to a halt, and I was not sure how the last 50 minutes of the documentary would go.
In a bit of a diversion to the central story around Nguyen, we get to see his cousin (Lien) make a breakthrough of her own. Between Nguyen severing ties with “Z” and his trek to Vietnam, he assisted in finding Lien’s father. In the process, she learns that he had died years before. However, there is a silver lining — her half-sister was still alive in Florida. The quick diversion to Lien’s success in finding her father and new family set in motion what was a far more engrossing latter half of the documentary. More than anything, this section of the documentary reinforced the generational trauma that many Vietnamese families have faced due to the Communist capture of Saigon in 1975.
After Lien finds closure on her father and the beginning of a relationship with her half-sister, the focus turns back to Nguyen. The last leg of his search led him to Vietnam. After his relationship with “Z” became incommunicado, Nguyen started looking into one of “Z’s” uncles on her mother’s side. This information was the only bit of hope Nguyen had left. Fortunately, it was what he needed to bring a closing stanza to what became a four-year endeavor to identify this once nameless, faceless, and absent man in Nguyen’s life.
Nguyen ends the documentary as he started it: celebrating his birthday. Even though we get a closing shot of Nguyen’s new family, it comes with much left unanswered. Throughout, we do not hear much from Nguyen’s children (Thay and Lulu). For a story centered around a man finding his father, it became odd that we never saw much of how Nguyen’s offspring found themselves changed over the four years. Nguyen had his reasons for what made and did not make the final cut, of course. Still, the intent in highlighting emotionality surrounding his family could have benefitted from the added detail from those around him.
“Year of the Cat” throws a lot at the viewer. We get a raw Nguyen that embarked on a challenging goal. And it is unabashedly shown. The sometimes lifelong goal in finding one’s identity is a subject matter that all viewers can find sympathy for. Nguyen depicts the lengths that some will undertake to achieve that desire.