Filmmaker Tony Nguyen looks through a collection of urns while on a quest to learn about his father's identity. (Tony Nguyen)
The year of the cat is what differentiates the Vietnamese zodiac calendar from the Chinese and Korean calendars. In Vietnam, the year of the cat replaces the year of the rabbit.
And 1975 was the year of the cat.
On April 30 of that year, Saigon, the capital city of South Vietnam, fell to communist forces from Northern Vietnam. As U.S. troops rapidly retreated, hundreds of thousands of Vietnamese fled their homeland.
The year 1975 “marks the beginning of mass migration for my mother, and folks like my mother,” Tony Nguyen tells me. “And my mother was pregnant with me at that time.”
A clipping from the Seymour Tribune shows filmmaker Tony Nguyen’s mother (far right) shortly after fleeing Vietnam and seeking refuge in the U.S. She was seven months pregnant with Tony at the time, in September of 1975. (Courtesy of Tony Nguyen)
An Oakland-based filmmaker born in Indiana in the fall of 1975, Nguyen explains that the process of making his latest film, in some ways, began that very year.
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Year of the Cat, a 98-minute documentary which screens May 9 as part of CAAMFest in San Francisco, chronicles Nguyen’s quest to find his father. Along the way, Nguyen learns more than anticipated about both his family and world history, all while creating a roadmap of sorts for the next generation.
Nguyen digs through digital phonebooks and listens to first-person accounts that won’t appear in history textbooks. He takes DNA tests, tests the patience of strangers, and knocks on doors unannounced at houses in U.S. suburbs. At one point in the film, he breaks a sweat while walking through a cemetery in Vietnam.
And in the end, he finds what he’s looking for: the truth.
Tony Nguyen gets acquainted with his newly found half-brother in a scene from ‘Year of The Cat.’ (Tony Nguyen)
It’s quite a journey for a film that begins as Nguyen and a younger relative, there to translate his broken Vietnamese, sit down with Nguyen’s mother to discuss his father’s whereabouts.
His mom, who’d recently survived a stroke, engages in a tough-to-watch conversation. In the scene, Nguyen’s checkered relationship with his mother (and his motherland) becomes clear as he listens to her tell of living through the fall of Saigon, surviving sexual assault, seeking refuge and divulging family secrets.
Nguyen then follows all the leads he can to find more information about his father. In addition to consulting family members and contacting people through ancestry sites, he hires Kyle Le, a Vietnamese YouTuber who specializes in reuniting people.
Around 30 minutes into the film, Nguyen hits a wall in his research. So he records and sends a video to someone he’s been connected with via an ancestry site. It’s a Hail Mary of sorts, in a scene which gives the viewer a full understanding of what’s at stake.
Filmmaker Tony Nguyen shares an embrace with his newly acquainted half-sister. (Tony Nguyen)
As he records the video, he describes his own children and how he cares for them, explaining that fatherhood has inspired him to find out more about his own father. And then he nods to a larger story — one that speaks to the heart of those who fled Vietnam 50 years ago.
As the camera cuts away from him, the audience gets a glimpse of a maneki-neko, a golden cat figurine believed to bring good luck. Nguyen says, in a voiceover, “I upload the video to YouTube, and say a prayer to the cats in the kitchen.”
Throughout the film Nguyen’s emotions range from sorrow to determination as he repeatedly makes phone calls to strangers and pushes the boundaries of what’s socially acceptable.
“In the moment,” he says, “I was all gloves off.”
YouTuber Kyle Le and filmmaker Tony Nguyen take a break from their research as they sit at a cafe in Vietnam. (Tony Nguyen)
“What you’re seeing is very much so true to my search,” Nguyen says during a phone interview, adding that he wanted the film to retain even his unflattering acts, like contacting people repeatedly.
“I was trying to be respectful; at least in my eyes, that’s what respect looks like,” Nguyen says in regard to knocking on doors and reaching out to strangers whose DNA results showed a match. “Not getting anywhere with those family members, I just felt like I needed to take that risk.”
He cites being born into loss as his motivation to seek answers.
“My mother’s loss of a country, coming here to America as a refugee, not growing up with a father, not knowing anything about him, never seeing a picture and so forth,” Nguyen says.
Nguyen aimed to be ethical about his pursuit of the truth. He didn’t steal hair samples or go through anyone’s trash. But “in the end, in terms of the actual search for my father, I did what I thought was best,” he says.
Filmmaker Tony Nguyen crouches while looking at a collection of urns as he searches for the truth about his father’s identity. (Tony Nguyen)
Nguyen’s search for answers began five years before the film was finished, with what he calls a “naive idea” that he’d go straight from point A to point B. He certainly didn’t.
However, over the course of the process, he helped a cousin discover a half-sibling, and found two half-siblings of his own. He came across images of his father with long hair, and discovered that his father, like Nguyen, was an artist too.
In a scene at the documentary’s end, Nguyen and his kids have dinner, and his 15 year-old son, without breaking from eating, says he respects his dad for embarking on his journey. After five years, many family stories and ultimately discovering the truth about his father, Nguyen’s mission is complete.
“I see this as a document for my children’s generation,” says Nguyen of the film. “And hopefully future generations within my own family.”
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‘The Year of The Cat’ makes its Bay Area premiere as part of CAAMFest on May 9 at the AMC Kabuki in San Francisco. Details here.
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