South Korean documentary film “Queer My Friends” follows the personal struggle of one young South Korean gay man who simply wants to be alive and true to himself. Although his story is presented mainly via the rather distant viewpoint of his close female friend who is incidentally the director of the documentary, it often feels sad and poignant for good reasons, and it will surely make you reflect more on how harsh and indifferent the South Korean society has been to many LGBTQ+ people like him for many years.

At first, director/writer Seo Ah-hyun tells us how she and Gang-won came to know each other during their early years. They and their Christian parents happened to go to the same church in their neighborhood in Seoul, so they became quite close to each other as often spending time together, and that was the main reason why Ah-hyun was quite surprised when Gang-won suddenly revealed his homosexuality to her shortly after having his 26th birthday.

While his parents still supported him as usual (I really envy him because my parents are still in denial while also pushing me toward heterosexual marriage as before), Gang-won eventually made a big decision when he was about to serve in the South Korean Army for at least 2 years just like many other able-bodied lads in South Korea. Knowing well how homophobic the South Korean Army really is, he gave up his South Korean citizenship in 2014, and then he went to US, where he subsequently got enlisted in the US Army.

Because the US Army has been more tolerant of LGBTQ+ people in these days, Gang-won did not have much problem with serving in the US Army, but, ironically, he was deployed to Seoul in the end, and he did not mind that much either. After all, he still felt more comfortable in South Korea, and there were also Ah-hyun and some other friends willing to accept his sexual identity. In addition, he began a little romantic relationship, so it seemed that he could actually settle in South Korea later even though he was not technically a South Korean citizen anymore.

However, sadly, the circumstance did not go that well for Gang-won during next several years. Not long after he was deployed to Germany later, Gang-won decided to leave the US Army due to some anxiety/depression problem, and then he stayed in New York City for a while as wondering what to do for the next chapter of his life. As a dude who has always been enthusiastic about theater performance, he takes some dance and singing lessons, and he seems to feel a bit better during these little cheerful moments, though that still does not alleviate his anxiety on the growing uncertainty of his future.

In the end, Gang-won returned to Seoul, and he was certainly welcomed by his boyfriend, Ah-hyun, and some other friends, but he still did not feel that well for understandable reasons. Because of giving up his South Korean citizenship and then evading that mandatory military service, it was difficult for him to get any decent job, and there is a little bitter moment when he reveals a bit about his current medicated status (I came to empathize more with him after learning that one of his two prescribed drugs happens to be the one I have had for more than 10 years, by the way).

As observing her friend’s ongoing struggle, Ah-hyun comes to reflect a lot on several things including her own life. Although she has aspired to be a documentary filmmaker since her college graduation, she mostly remains stuck with recording Gang-won’s story on her camera, and her parents often suggest that she should consider some other options for her life such as marrying some suitable guy.

In addition, Ah-hyun becomes more aware of the considerable social prejudice against LGBTQ+ people in the South Korean society. At one point, we see her and Gang-won attending the annual queer parade held in the middle of Seoul, and they and many other participants are happy to be there as enjoying themselves, but there are always a big bunch of hateful right-wing Christians verbally insulting and attacking at them. These loathsome people frequently emphasize their faith and Jesus in public, but, seriously, I do not think their cruel actions of hate and bigotry will be ever approved by Jesus himself.

Gang-won tries to be brave and truthful as before, but, sadly, there comes a moment equivalent to the breaking point when he and Ah-hyun come to have a painful private conversation with his boyfriend silently sitting beside them. Sure, they still care about each other as close friends, but Gang-won has felt a lot more burdened than before as Ah-hyun keeps following him with her camera, and that naturally makes Ah-hyun question whether she has actually put her project above their long friendship.

In my humble opinion, “Queer My Friends” could delve more into its main human subject, but it respects and cares too much about its main human subject to do that, and I appreciate how Seo handles her dear friend’s personal story with enough consideration and sensitivity. Although the ending is as bittersweet as expected, there are also some hope and optimism at least, and I can only wish the best for both Seo and Gang-won as a South Korean gay man who has had his own fair share of struggle for being true to myself besides being alive in the South Korean society during last several years. Yes, things have look pretty daunting to many of us these days, but things do change in the end as long as we keep struggling to live, don’t they?