the river knows
our names
feature, 120', in-development
LOGLINE:
On the undocumented floating homes of the Mekong, a little girl's birthday wish tests how far love can reach when you don't officially exist.
in development seeking producer, co-producers, funding & collaborations
WINNER - Tokyo Talents Award 2024
RUNNER UP AWARD - SEA Pitch 2021 - Bangkok-ASEAN Film Festival 2021
SGIFF SEA Feature Lab - Singapore International Film Festival 2021
FAR UDINE - Hongkong-Asia Film Financing Forum - Hongkong International Film Festival 2020
Focus Asia International Co-Production Market - Far Udine Film Festival 2020
To request the film dossier, email theriverknowsournames@gmail.com
DIRECTOR'S NOTE OF INTENTION
I grew up by the sea, but once walked into a blue hole and nearly drowned. That's when I learned water doesn't just give—it can take you whole. I've had a complicated relationship with water ever since, fascinated and frightened in equal measure.
In the early '90s, just after Vietnam opened its borders, my father lost his job and my parents' marriage crumbled under economic pressure. While my extroverted sister found her world outside, I spent my time hoping to fix their relationship. Once, I rode my bicycle in the rain to buy my mother a birthday cake, stole candles from the altar for the dead, and begged my father to come home. We never discussed these gestures. At eighteen, I left town. They were still arguing over nothing and everything.
That is why I place a little girl as the hero of this story. I could not do what I hoped Little would be able to do. I place my faith in a child's capacity for joy, wonder, and love to bring light to the darkest moments.
Little is inspired by children I met in 2014 in Long Xuyen, near the Vietnam-Cambodia border. Born to parents rendered stateless by regional conflicts, these children had no legal papers, address, or full name—meaning no rights, no protection, no place to belong. But they were dazzling, hilarious, brave, and wise beyond their years.
This encounter led to my first film, the short documentary "Down The Stream." When we screened it on one of the houseboats, dozens of families rowed over. What forever stays in my heart: when the children saw themselves on screen, their eyes widened and they gasped, "That's me!"
That moment shaped my philosophy as a filmmaker. Art has the power to heal, help, and provoke change—but first, it must help people see themselves.
In a subsequent project recording data about this community, we encountered a heartbreaking reality. Many people had no recollection of their names. One woman admitted, "I don't remember. I never used it."
These humans inspire "The River Knows Our Names." People from this community have been my friends for a decade. I've attended their funerals and weddings. The children have grown up; some adults have passed. They remain invisible in the eyes of the law, but countless lives have been lived.
On an intellectual level, this film tackles questions about identity, belonging, and the structures that render some invisible. But beyond the intellectual, this film is for the stateless children on the Mekong and others like them—so when they see the light hit the screen, they can gasp: "That's me!"
And maybe for me too, to see Little living with joy and courage, and know that it's also me.
