Writer-director Anthony Shim‘s (“Daughter,” 2019) sophomore feature “Riceboy Sleeps” stars Choi Seung-yoon (in her feature acting debut) and Ethan Hwang (Netflix Series “The Umbrella Academy,” 2019-2024) in principal roles and chronicles the life of South Korean single mother So-young (Seung-yoon) and her attempts as an immigrant in Canada in the ’90s to provide for and have a strong relationship with her son Dong-Hyun “David” over a decade.

Shim wears his inspirations on his sleeve—”Riceboy Sleeps” is full of stylistic homages to the filmmaking of Terrence Malick, Agnes Varda, Wong Kar-Wai, and Yasujirō Ozu. While there are visual and experiential nods to “The Tree of Life” (2011), “Documenteur” (1981), or “Sanma no Aji” (Eng.: “An Autumn Afternoon,” 1962), they’re more abstract and understated, and the director’s singular storytelling doesn’t for a second feel derivative.

Shim’s strength lies in the vast emotional spectrum of the characters he creates. As David (portrayed as a child by Dohyun Noel Hwang in his acting debut) grows into a high schooler (Ethan Hwang), he code-switches to—in his words—”look cool” and harbors a quiet resentment of his own cultural history, both implicit and explicit. A bunch of credit goes to Hwang for understanding his role and playing it to pitch perfection. He and Seung-Yoon are phenomenal and play to each other’s strengths perfectly.

The latter, in particular, is the driving force of the film. So-young boasts strong, layered character writing, and Seung-Yoon more than gives it the justice it deserves by portraying many emotions while simultaneously being subdued—and often all in just one scene. Her work has the power to reach out through the screen and emotionally destroy viewers, especially across the second half.

However, the actors’ work is only a part of the poetic whole. On paper, “Riceboy Sleeps” sounds like a slice-of-life story of an immigrant family of two. Peel through the layers, though, and you’ll see the journeys of So-young and Ethan underscored by systemic casual racism in a primarily white Canadian societal structure in the ’90s and the pent-up rage that comes from losing yourself to survive.

Whether by code-switching or trying desperately to cling to the diamond absolutes of a world that can displace and ignore your existence based on a dated patriarchally-backed social stigma, the film’s most prominent subtext is the desperation of peoples’ attempts to find closure. It helps that cinematographer Christopher Lew made the punctuated decision to shoot on film, visually putting the idea of nostalgia into perspective. Shot in static, long takes, “Riceboy Sleeps” throws an existentialist spanner on what people with unchecked privileges mean when they crave the “good old days” instead of those without.

In only his second film, Anthony Shim carefully crafts a bittersweet journey that could have ended up either rote or overindulgent like most festival-friendly dramas. Yet, his razor-sharp focus helps carefully balance poetry with very grounded storytelling that immerses viewers from the first second to the last. “Riceboy Sleeps” is a must-watch.

A previous version of this review was written as part of the TIFF ’22 lineup in collaboration with—and published in—The Black CAPE Magazine.