You have to hand it to China for its so-called panda diplomacy. Because everything about the animal is “rare and difficult,” according to a zookeeper quoted in this sentimental South Korean documentary, a certain delicacy is built into its process of loaning the animal to countries throughout the world. In 2016, China sent one male and one female panda to a Korean zoo for the purposes of mating, under the condition that any cub produced would be “sent back” to China when the offspring turned 4. This is the situation for all pandas loaned to foreign countries, and it’s been an exceptional PR boon for the People’s Republic because it suggests that the country does its best to prevent pandas from being exploited while also allowing the world to enjoy the unique charms of the animal, which are all tied into its uniformly adorable appearance and awkward behavior. A less remarked upon trait is the panda’s seeming ability to adapt readily to the conditions of confinement without manifesting outward signs of stress, something that other zoo animals tend to exhibit more obviously, even though, as the “rare and difficult” attribute implies, pandas are notoriously difficult to breed in captivity.

So when the two Korean loan pandas had a cub in 2020, it was huge news in Korea, since it was the first time in the country’s history that pandas in their care had produced a cub “naturally,” meaning without assisted reproductive procedures. Moreover, the female panda, named Fu Bao, arrived right in the middle of the COVID epidemic and thus provided palliative relief for the Korean public, who flocked to the Everland zoo in droves to observe the cub. This documentary thus has a built-in dramatic hook, because Fu Bao’s popularity just continued to grow as her time in Korea dwindled: Everyone knew that once she was 4 years old, she would go back to China. Everland’s breeder, Kang Chul-won, and keeper-in-charge, Song Yong-kuan, do most of the talking in the film, and the viewer only understands Fu Bao through their experience of tending to her as part of their jobs. In the end, we know a lot about these two men, including their family lives and personality tics, and very little about Fu Bao, or even pandas in general, which is odd because the two loan pandas subsequently give birth to twins, thus extending the miracle; though, for some reason, these two new additions aren’t half as beloved as Fu Bao, a fact that is mentioned but never explained. Maybe it’s because the movie was made for a specific cross-section of Koreans who would automatically understand the social dynamics at work, but in any event it isn’t interested in explaining panda behavior beyond the observation that the two loan pandas were “good parents,” whatever than means in panda lore. The animals’ special appeal to humans is taken for granted without the merest sop to empirical curiosity. “They are so much like a family,” says Kang at one point about Fu Bao, her parents, and her siblings, “because they all look alike.” Well…yeah.

The last third of the documentary is a slow, ponderous descent into maudlin anticipation as the date of Fu Bao’s departure approaches. In an especially cruel twist of serendipity, Kang’s 88-year-old mother dies two days before the removal, and the breeder decides to accompany the animal back to Sichuan while in full mourning. “Do what you have to do,” says his brother. From there it’s just one weepy montage after another, though through it all Fu Bao maintains her composure in typical panda fashion. Maybe that’s what really makes them so attractive: Nothing fazes them, even the over-zealous attention of smitten, well-meaning humans. 

In Korean. Opens April 18 in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Human Trust Cinema Yurakucho (03-6259-8608), Shinjuku Musashinokan (03-3354-5670).

My Dearest Fu Bao home page in Japanese

photo (c) 2024 ACOMMZ and Everland Resort