On a remote island in South Korea a group of elderly women fiercely defend the trade that defines their livelihood.
This story contains spoilers for the documentary “The Last of the Sea Women.”
The Haenyeo, or “women of the sea,” practice a fishing technique unique to the South Korean island province of Jeju. The women, many of them in their 60s, 70s and 80s, free dive for seafood including sea urchin, conch, octopus and seaweed.
The occupation is almost exclusive to the island’s female elders, most of whom qualified out of necessity in their teens and early twenties.
Despite their UNESCO-recognized status today, when many of the remaining Haenyeo started out decades ago they were ashamed to rely on what was deemed a dishonourable form of manual labour to survive. But “The Last of the Sea Women,” directed by Sue Kim and produced by Nobel Peace Prize recipient Malala Yousafzai, doesn’t cling to the past, instead it honours the reality of the present and boldly confronts the future.
It does so through its adept examination of how to preserve age-old tradition via contemporary means. The film’s two youngest Haenyeo, who vlog their dives, but also work jobs more conducive to modern life, are central to this enduring tension.
Young or old, to become a Haenyeo the women embark on a rigorous training program that begins in childhood; they are perhaps the closest to real-life mermaids humans will ever get.
Once qualified, the very best of the Haenyeos can hold their breath for up to two minutes and make daily dives, more than ten metres deep, without oxygen tanks, into the sea. However, their way of life faces a burgeoning assembly of problems.
In one scene, palpable rage usurps the screen as the Haenyeo learn of the Japanese government’s outrageous decision to release radioactive water being stored from the Fukushima nuclear disaster into the seas they fish in.
Their impassioned protestations capture widespread attention leading one formidable Haenyeo to the chambers of the United Nations in Geneva to make a statement on behalf of the group.
Despite their best efforts to stop it, the Japanese government began releasing contaminated water into the sea in August 2023, as numerous environmental, social, political and economic concerns continued to threaten the time-honoured practice of the Haenyeos.
From the struggle to recruit the next generation, to dwindling sea-life, shrinking incomes, the possibility of injury, and no government provided health insurance, the Haenyeo’s worries manifest in hard-hitting, heartbreaking bursts of emotion, through evocative anecdotes, and organically captured moments of them chatting, joking, laughing and crying.
While the hour-and-a-half long documentary explores both the imminent and ubiquitous dangers faced by the Haenyeo with a heavy heart, its overarching celebration of the shared tenacity and thick-skinned character of this small but mighty band of fisherwomen is what makes the film a resounding success.
Intercut with intimate insights into the women’s inner lives are shaky shots of the Haenyeos cautiously climbing into trawlers and dragging their fishing nets along jagged cliffs, the unsteady camera work mimicking the frailness of their elderly bones. But as their wetsuit-clad limbs meet the waves, aged gaits give way to elegant strides; their bodies effortlessly twisting and turning with the tide as they hack at the ocean floor.
Cinematic underwater imagery of the Haenyeo hard at work is bolstered by a sweeping symphonic score, resulting in a compelling and eloquent nod to the astonishing strength of the “women of the sea.”
“The Last of the Sea Women” underscores the crucial role the Haenyeo play in preserving our oceans with ever present urgency. It hails them as nature’s keepers and as women destined to maintain balance within the ecosystem, their own lives and beyond.
