Crossing over the Arirang Pass, directed by Ko Jeongja and Terada Yoshitaka, unveils a culturally complex post-colonial existence of Koreans in Japan known as “Zainichi Koreans.” Zainichi Koreans, sometimes simply referred to as “Zainichi” (“residing in Japan”), are ethnic Koreans who migrated or were forcefully brought to Japan during the colonial period (1910–1945) as well as their descendants. While the exact number is unknown, over 322,000 Zainichi Koreans with special permanent resident status live in Japan today. They are one of the largest ethnic minority groups in Japan.

Throughout their history, Zainichi Koreans have suffered systemic discrimination and social marginalisation. To name a few examples, they are excluded from certain civil service positions, disenfranchised from the right to vote, and face harsh racial prejudice. Furthermore, the division of their homeland after WWII has fissured the Zainichi Korean community into a pro-North Korea group (Chongryon) and a pro-South Korea group (Mindan), obstructing the path toward Zainichi Korean coalition and advocacy. Across the generations, the lives and identities of Zainichi Koreans have been greatly affected by the constant interstate frictions between Japan, South Korea, and North Korea.

Focusing on their personal narratives and music-making, Crossing over the Arirang Pass sheds light on the plight of this little-known community and uncovers the lived experiences and identity struggles of second and third generation Zainichi Korean performers who are caught between their birthland and divided homeland. The artists featured in the film showcase the diversity of the Zainichi Korean community and its musical significance: pansori (an indigenous form of Korean musical storytelling) vocalist Ahn Sungmin trained in South Korea, singer-songwriter Lee Jeongmi trained in Japan, and singer Song Myonghwa along with three instrumentalists from the Kumgangsan Opera Troupe trained in North Korea. Their music and experiences are distinct, as are their sources of influence, yet the common thread that binds them is the spirit of Arirang, a beloved Korean folk song that symbolises all the joys, sorrows, struggles, and hopes of the Korean people. For Zainichi Koreans, the “Arirang Pass” (referred to in the song and the title of the film) stands for the hardships they have had to overcome and the earnest hope for a better tomorrow.

Aptly, the 76-minute film opens and closes with a joint performance of Arirang by all of the featured artists. Watching this performance is a moving experience for those familiar with the symbolic meaning of the song and the history of the Zainichi community. This musical coalescing of the divided community is not only rare but also significant as it offers a glimpse into what a unified community and homeland could be like. The celebratory energy of the closing performance exudes optimism and a possibility for unity, however fleeting and undeniably difficult to achieve in reality. Punctuated by a wide range of performances of traditional and modern music, the rest of the film delves into the personal experiences of three female singers (Ahn, Lee, and Song) and several supporting performers coming to terms with their own identity, what it means to be Zainichi Korean artists, and creating music that is not only Korean, but uniquely Zainichi.

The film consists of seven sections. The first section (“Who am I?”) features the three singers’ childhood memories of growing up as a Zainichi Korean. Their stories about never feeling completely Korean or Japanese, learning their real (Korean) name in kindergarten, concealing their Korean roots until an accidental “coming out” in high school, or wanting to run away from the Korean community and to become Japanese illustrate their struggles with identity and the taboo nature of being a Zainichi in Japan. In the following section (“Discovering music”) each singer reflects on their musical origins. While Ahn and Song’s careers started with their fascination for the distinct sound of their homeland (Korean language and pansori, respectively), it was the dire political situation in her homeland that forged Lee’s path. Lee recounts her experience of singing at support rallies for young Zainichi Korean political prisoners who were accused of being spies for the North and awaiting their execution date in the South, illuminating the tragic history of fraternal hostilities in their divided homeland and its reverberation on the Zainichi community.

The next three sections take turns to spotlight the journey of individual performers’ experiences in music-making. “Pansori for Zainichi Koreans” focuses on pansori vocalist Ahn Sungmin. Ahn became the first Zainichi Korean to master the art designated as an Intangible Cultural Property of South Korea. Considered an outsider in both Japan and South Korea, it is through pansori that Ahn finds her voice and reclaims her place and identity. The juxtaposition between her arduous journey and the struggles of Zainichi Koreans in regaining their language and culture that were taken from them during the colonial period is one of the most poignant parts of the film. Her expressive vocal performance and stories underpinning it will remain with viewers long after the film’s conclusion.

“This town, too, is home” presents singer-song writer Lee Jeongmi’s journey of coming to terms with and eventually embracing her Zainichi Korean roots. The featured song The Keisei Line is a heartfelt tribute to her ancestors and the hometown she once despised. The original tune and lyrics, filled with a sense of longing and attachment to her home both near and far, epitomises the diasporic experience of Zainichi Koreans. In “Learning in the Republic”, performers from the Kumgangsan Opera Troupe, which was originally established in 1955 with support from North Korea, share their experiences of training in Pyongyang and their struggle to emulate the sounds and methods in which traditional songs and instruments are played in their homeland. On display in this section is an exquisite assortment of music played with traditional Korean instruments, including the geomungo zither, gayageum zither, and choktae (Korean flute), and the enchanting voice of Song Myonghwa.

The following section (“Life in-between”) elucidates the frustration and pain that accompany the in-between existence of Zainichi Koreans. Viewers get a glimpse of the everyday strife of Zainichi Korean artists and the inescapable impact of the political tensions surrounding Japan and two Koreas on their lives and music-making. Lee Jeongmi’s encounter with censorship and eventual self-censorship of songs alluding to comfort women illustrate the pressure and constraints Zainichi Koreans live with every day. In the final segment (“Zainichi Korean music”), the performers grapple with their sense of purpose, meaning of their trajectory, and responsibility as Zainichi Korean musicians. Caught between Japan and the Korean peninsula and living with the ramifications of colonialism and continuing discrimination in Japan, some feel a sense of responsibility to serve as a voice to bridge the gulf between Japan and Korea. Others feel crushed under the sheer weight of this responsibility and what it means to be a Zainichi musician. Still others consider their role as creating what is uniquely theirs, a “Zainichi” music.

The musical interludes scattered throughout the film are beautiful and wide-ranging, reflecting the distinct musical influence of each artist. Some are well-known music and sung narratives from the homeland (Toraji, Chulgan, Sugungga, etc.), while others are distinctly Zainichi (Hana, The Keisei Line). Also included, albeit briefly, is a segment of Arirang and Akatonbo, a piece that seamlessly combines two beloved songs from their homeland and birthland. Most songs are performed in Korean, some in Japanese, and a few in a mixture of both, all of which is symptomatic of the cultural versatility of Zainichi Korean artists and their in-between existence. The careful selection of music and meticulous placement and sequencing of each piece within the film works to amplify the emotional journey of the viewer, reaching into an emotional terrain that transcends language.

In conclusion, this film does an excellent job of illuminating the diasporic experiences of Zainichi Korean artists and their efforts to preserve and articulate their history and culture through music. Its nuanced representation of the multiplicity of experiences and musical influences within the Zainichi Korean community is particularly valuable in providing a richer understanding of a people who are little-known and often considered homogeneous. The thoughtful treatment of the material throughout the film reveals the dedication to and deep knowledge of the history and culture of the Zainichi Korean community on the part of the filmmakers themselves (Ko is herself a second generation Zainichi Korean with expertise in Korean folk entertainment while Terada is an ethnomusicologist and specialist in the performing arts of Asia). One can only hope that this one-of-a-kind film will reach a wide audience, both domestically and internationally, and raise awareness of the struggles and resilience of a people who, after many generations, continue to fight discrimination, resist cultural assimilation, and echo the indefatigable spirit of Arirang.