How’s immigrant life in Korea? Very few Korean films will tell you that.

Immigrant cinema is a dedicated genre, which often gives away how generously the citizens of a country treat people from country X, Y and Z. They get banned as well, like Tsai Ming-Liang’s I Don’t Want To Sleep Alone (2006). Malaysia banned it for portraying Malaysia in a negative light and dealing with the taboo topic of the country—homosexuality.

Fact is, immigrant cinema is a hallmark of the existence of an intellectual movement in any country. If it doesn’t exist, it means the country’s elites are anti-art and anti-human rights. It’s that simple.

Once upon a time, Bandhobi (2009), a Korean film, was picturized on a Bangladeshi actor, Mahbub Alam. He was a man who knew his character too well. Part of the story was taken from his own life. He entered Korea as an immigrant worker, too.

Sea Fog (2014) told the story of Chinese-Koreans, smothered to death in the storage tank of a fishing ship. It was based on the real fishing ship, Taechangho, where the horror unfolded in 2001. The Flu (2013) had immigrants from Southeast Asia choked to death in a container. The sole survivor, Monssai, a Filippino, was held responsible for spreading the virus.

In contrast, Flower in Winter (2026) is a lighter take on the subject. The protagonist, Dong Mae, has a nicer fate, too. And it still captures the saga of being an immigrant.

The Korean title of the short film, running merely for 51 minutes, is 겨울에 꽃 (Gyeoul-e Kkot). It tells the story of a life that blossoms, amidst all hardships.

The Protagonist

This world is a heaven for some, and a burning charcoal chamber inferno for others.

It is totally a game of luck. Nobody gets to choose a country for themselves before being born and nobody knows where it will be.

After coming to existence as a human, they find themselves trapped in countries with war, famine and violence, and no ways to escape. Their currencies falter regularly. They don’t take them anywhere. Their money is so weak, they can barely make their ends meet in their own countries.

And for some, it is exactly the opposite. And for them, the whole world is free. They are free to go anywhere they wish—for vacations, staycations and more. Life itself becomes a staycation.

Others have to work hard to earn it.

Dongmae is a Chinese-Korean in her early thirties or late twenties. She works as a nail artist to earn her daily bread, and lives under the fear of being removed from Korea.

Flower in Winter is based on her. The title is the meaning of her name. It translates into plum blossom in the winter.

The Visa Office

An immigrant is someone living on borrowed time, with a piece of paper in their hand. The paper certifies how long they are entitled to keep living on the soil of this land, until it expires.

After being an immigrant, Dongmae has one more added obstacle—being a woman. The film starts at the Visa office. There, she is automatically assumed to be a sex worker. The immigration officer even gives her a subtle warning and asks her to tell her housemate ‘not to do’ things like that.

If a South Asian woman was in her shoes, the story would have been entirely different, and nastier. With a different skin colour, the market value of female bodies turns cheaper everywhere.

But Dongmae survives the ordeal. She faintly protests at first, and then starts feeling worried whether now her visa application will be rejected.

The Fears

There is a fear all immigrants have—of ultimately being kicked out, one day. The film plays with that.

It also very briefly touches upon the racism Chinese-Koreans face in South Korea. In one dialogue, Dongmae’s sister asks her, ‘do you know they call us snakes?’

During Covid, one of the top trending hashtags in South Korean social networks was #중국인입국금지 (Chung-gug-in Ibgug Geumji). It means, ban Chinese people from entering Korea. Raphael Rashid, a journalist, keeps reporting on anti-Chinese racism in the country for years after years on his Twitter.

Dongmae’s fears, despite sharing the same skin colour and identical facial and physical features, what once was called Mongoloid until it was deemed racist, start to come true. She tells her sister she will ‘move to the basement’ after the house contract is over.

It might sound like simple words, but it isn’t. For immigrants, it means giving up on the beauty of life, as much as they could afford—and losing the ability to afford it anymore. For many, it translates into going back to their home countries.

As the string lights keep blinking behind Dongmae, these words send an image to the minds of the audience—of a dark basement where she will arrive soon, leaving it all behind.

But Life Blossoms

Although not a lot really happens beyond this, Dongmae eventually finds her way in life. And a boyfriend, too.

She gets her visa, and the boyfriend gets her phone number in the last scene. But before that, the owner of her nail studio delivers a very memorable dialogue: ‘You work until you have food on the table and then you turn 40. Youth runs away so fast!’

In a way, it is a summary of life in only two sentences. A short, collective biography of immigrants and also the youth who never immigrated, but struggled at their own homelands anyway. To build a life.

Eventually, the old owner goes to a seabeach to find a boyfriend for herself, too. She decides to visit it after a customer arrives in the studio, with a hottie boyfriend. They tell her they found each other at a seabeach.

Unlike many other gruesome stories, Flower in Winter ends on a calmer note.

The Simple, Minimalist Music

Dae Hyeon Kim, the director, so far made only a few films. His 1994 short Namaste Seoul had the same theme, the life of immigrants. The central character was a Nepalese, forced out of his factory.

He made Flower in Winter available for everyone on YouTube. He also served as the editor and the art director.

It uses very simple music to communicate the inner emotions. At one point, Jingle Bell starts playing as Dongmae watches her customer leaving with her boyfriend. The Christmas music starts sounding like a waiting for a carnival, something she never had for herself. And life was still passing her by.

Minju Kim did an excellent job in the titular character. Dong-ki Lee, Min Young Kim and Seung Eun Lee, did pretty awesome in supporting characters, too. And Wook Min Jeon lent his handsome face as Dongmae’s customer’s boyfriend.

The fact that Jingle Bells and Erik Satie’s Je te veux were literally taken from the creative commons indicate the budget restraints. Officially, Dong-Geun Lee was credited for the music score.

It is a film made for an audience with busy schedules of their own. If you have fifty minutes available late at night, chances are it will probably mirror your own life. Keep it in your pre-sleep watchlist.

If you are into realism, Flower in Winter surely won’t feel like a waste.