‘Don't Cry Butterfly’ REVIEW: Where Chaos Reigns
‘Don't Cry, Butterfly’ REVIEW: Where Chaos Reigns
Tam (Tú Oanh) engages in a ritual to pray an evil spirit out of her house | Still taken from The Hollywood Reporter
Duong Dieu Linh’s Don’t Cry Butterfly is awash with layers of imagery, not the type of stuff one would expect as a first debut feature, but certainly emerges with a sound and style of its own.
The film centers around the dynamics of a broken family whose matriarch, Tam, juggles work as a wedding planner, daughter to aspiring ballet dancer Ha, and wife to silent husband Thinh. It’s a hectic household life that is suddenly upended when her husband is caught cheating and the whole world of the family is upended as they try and navigate the ensuing chaos of it.
Through its endless stream of chaos, the film’s ability to guide the audience through its two female characters’ distress is impressive. There’s a hectic pacing to the film that never wanes, switching from off-beat drum riffs to body horror-inspired sequences and ritualistic dances that guide the film’s eclectic nature to a focused story. The details are crafted so seamlessly and enabled by Linh’s dreamy narrative that they are just irresistible to look at.
In constructing the chaos, there’s a heavy, but necessary reliance on mystical dream sequences that carry the film throughout. Occasionally, a recurring “ceiling leak” appears in the film whose relevance goes beyond a household issue, and the ability of the film to mask deeper ideas within something as trivial and mechanical is impressive on many levels. Without divulging much, Don’t Cry Butterfly gets layered and fascinating in areas about the spiritual experience, the female identity, and personal escape.
It’s also incredibly airtight with the camerawork, with Minh Nghia Ngo’s contributions helping create a claustrophobic experience all throughout with the dizzying amount of close-ups, tracking shots, and spectacles where the camera almost hugs its subjects. It’s the type of creative decision that adds up to the film’s sense of disordered spirituality, and definitively adds up to how incredible this film’s essence is executed.
Nguyen Nam Linh as Ha in a dream sequence | Still taken from YouTube
Part of the reason that it all works is that Duong Dieu Linh clearly took her time crafting Don’t Cry Butterfly, having remarked in an interview that the story was something in the making for 10 years, having undergone some revisions to become the two-leveled study of two different generations of women. Tam and Ha are forced to navigate their silent father’s infidelity in their own ways, exposing a level of disconnect that keeps them in conflict with each other yet seemingly at peace within themselves.
The film really likes to play around with perception and what the audience knows — perhaps the reason the film gets quite confusing — but still consistent with its approach towards family dynamics. Its potency to be resonant is still there, having just enough of the spirituality and chaos speak close to the heart and then some.
One may just be impressed to think how for a debut feature, Don’t Cry Butterfly just seamlessly flows through everything so nicely. It’s an experience that leaves plenty to think about, whether it be in the creative decisions or the story. It isn’t often that a debut film excellently handles controlled chaos.
Don’t Cry Butterfly is part of QCinema 2024’s lineup as part of the Asian Next Wave competition.
