City boy, country girl: How one North Korean film tackles the urban-rural divide
The story of a rich Pyongyang heir who falls for a patriotic girl from the provinces frankly showcases social inequality
Tatiana Gabroussenko March 30, 2022
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In “Myself in the Distant Future," the city-dwelling Sinjun falls head over heels for a woman named Sunyang from the countryside | Image: KCTV
While real North Korean society has always been stratified, official ideology presents all North Koreans as one happy family. Even if state media recognizes some differences, such as the rural-urban divide, these are framed as temporary considerations that can be overcome through revolutionary struggle and loyalty to the state.
North Korean films and other popular media often promote the theme of city youth flocking to rural communities with an aim to reform backwardness and eliminate discrepancies between urban and rural areas. The film “City Girl Marries a Village Fellow,” for example, presents volunteers from the city as enthusiasts who deeply respect people living in the provinces, who are essentially not much different from them.
But the reality in North Korea is that city folk and rural residents are quite far apart in all sorts of meaningful measurements, like educational achievement, social mobility, household income and life expectancy. Perhaps most importantly, the Kim Jong Un regime fundamentally views urban residents as of higher priority than non-urban ones, essentially creating two parallel worlds inside the country.
The romantic film “Myself in the Distant Future” (1997) was the first to seriously confront this urban-rural divide. Its direct treatment of social inequalities, while done in service of typical DPRK propaganda, is nonetheless striking in the context of North Korean cinema.
The film’s protagonist lives in a posh Pyongyang apartment and likes to play Westernized music on the piano | Image: KCTVFALLING FOR A COUNTRY GIRL
Set in the era of the Arduous March famine, “Myself in the Distant Future” has two protagonists: An enthusiastic storm brigade member named Suyang (played by Kim Hyegyong), and a spoilt heir to a wealthy Pyongyang family named Sinjun (played by Kim Myongmun).
Sinjun is the grandson of a revolutionary martyr. His father (played by Choe Changsu) is a distinguished designer; his mother (played by merited artist Hong Sungjong) is a university professor. This family status allows Sinjun to live a comfortable life in a newly built flat in the center of Pyongyang, where he enjoys the privacy of his own room and adorns it with posters of luxury cars.
Instead of being involved in some significant social activity, as his parents expect from him, the young man lives a laidback life. He has failed to enter university and dropped out of technical college. Instead, Sinjun has chosen the job of taxi driver, which in the 1990s implied a relaxed schedule and lots of lucrative opportunities.
Sinjun is completely satisfied with his life. He is surrounded by friends with similar values, such as Sunho, a laidback university student. Yet he is jolted out of this content existence by a romantic infatuation with Suyang, a pretty common girl whom he met accidentally and who in all aspects is different to him.
Suyang is a native of Taehongdae, a remote area in far-away Ryanggan province known for its potatoes. In Pyongyang she serves as a platoon leader in a storm brigade, building posh houses for elites like Sinjun’s family. She lives in a government dormitory.
A taxi driver living the life of a Pyongyang elite, Sinjun enjoys his own room and adorns it with photos of luxury vehicles | Image: KCTVSinjun first assumes that Suyang is an easy catch. He is a handsome boy with a personal car and a luxury apartment, the only son of a rich family. How can a poor provincial girl resist? Without even consulting her, Sinjun makes plans to marry Suyang, but gets briefly hung up on her relatively low social status.
“You know, I like this working-class girl, but it is hard to decide to marry her,” he mentions to his friend Sunho. Still, Sinjun concludes that his mother can help Suyang to enter cooking school or commerce university, and this will eradicate her working-class stigma.
Further acquaintance with the girl shows that the two main characters have very little in common. In fact, they operate with quite different cultural and philosophical sensibilities. Unlike her more privileged peers, who consider the Arduous March a temporary setback, Suyang and her friends take it quite seriously.
They even enjoy different music: The elite Sinjun likes Westernized music played on the piano and apolitical stanzas and tries to lure Suyang with sensual love poetry. She is immune to such advances, however, as the only music Suyang listens to are official state anthems and the only poems she enjoys are patriotic verses extolling the merits of the North Korean political system.
While Sinjun cannot be called a dissident, he barely knows the history of his own family and isn’t sure what exactly his heroic grandfather did. Suyang and her friends, in contrast, enthusiastically support all Party decrees and are deeply impressed by people who live “efficient lives.”
When admiring another girl who proposed to a disabled veteran — an act of patriotism that North Korean state media often promotes to this day — Suyang’s friend exclaims: “How wonderful it is to sacrifice your life to a hero!” Suyang objects: “Living with a good man is not a sacrifice. This is happiness in itself.”
Back at home, Suyang takes care of the grave of an unknown patriotic martyr, the twist being that the grave is that of Sinjun’s grandfather.
Unlike Sinjun, Suyang works for a strike brigade, lives in a government dormitory and only listens to patriotic state anthems | Image: KCTV‘DO NOT REGARD YOUR PARENTS’ FEATS AS YOURS’
These apparent cultural and ideological differences do not scare Sinjun off, however. On the contrary, Suyang’s otherness makes him sick with love: He can’t sleep or eat. He makes an official proposal to the girl, expecting her to be honored by the wonderful opportunity.
To his surprise, the girl declines and politely explains that while the achievements of his parents are indeed impressive, Sinjun’s personal value has not yet been proven. “But I do not want you to go the mines, or to the tidelands. Everybody wants to go Pyongyang!” an exasperated Sinjun exclaims.
But Suyang does not consider herself a Cinderella swept by the proposition of the supposed prince. She is a self-sufficient person who enjoys her family home and appreciates her own place in life.
When Sinjun’s friend Sunho hears about the rejection, he suggests that Suyang will change her mind if she meets Sinjun’s family. So Sunjin invites Suyang and her friends to his stylish apartment. Afterward, he emphasizes: “I am the only son of the family, and all this is mine.”
Suyang responds to Sinjun’s promise of material comforts if they marry by telling him that he should not regard his parents’ accomplishments as his own | Image: KCTVIn response, she points out that the house in which he lives now was one of those that her brigade constructed. Suyang recollects how hard they worked in order to make the best people of their country live a comfortable life. While most people she saw living in these apartments are indeed intellectual elites who deserve her labor, she’s not so sure about Sinjun’s moral claim to such an exclusive residence. “Do not regard your parents’ feats as your own,” Suyang reminds him.
Many North Koreans likely empathize with this dialogue, which puts on full display the inequalities that arise when the offspring of rich families parasitize on the achievements of their ancestors.
“Myself in the Distant Future” ends in a conventional way for North Korean films. The spoilt heir of the rich family joins Suyang in rural Taehongdan, where his hard labor earns him recognition from the state and, more importantly for Sinjun, Suyang’s heart.
Despite this didactic ending, the issues which the film raises are significant. It represents North Korea’s recognition that their society is not an egalitarian one.
Edited by Arius Derr
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