The Last of the Sea Women (now streaming on Apple TV+) profiles the haenyeo – Korean for “sea women” – a group of female freedivers who harvest mollusks, kelp and other seafood from the ocean floor off the South Korean island province of Jeju. These women uphold a centuries-old tradition that’s slowly dying in the wake of industrialization, pollution and the undeniable fact that holding your breath for minutes at a time while plumbing chilly waters and dodging stinging jellyfish is a rather dangerous job. Director Sue Kim follows a group of these Jeju women as they fight for their livelihoods, and contemplate the sad truth that, in spite of the haenyeo being a celebrated piece of local culture, they’re very much a dying breed.
The Gist: “Jeju is famous for three things,” one of the haenyeo says in voiceover, “rocks, wind and women.” Specifically, those women are divers gathering urchins, sea cucumbers, conchs and other tasty delicacies from the waters off the coast of Jeju. We observe as they gather on early gray mornings, joking with each other as they pull on wetsuits and swim fins, and putting their floating nets for their bounty over their shoulders. It’s a sisterhood. They’ve been doing this job their entire lives, starting young, training for seven years and becoming official haenyeo as teenagers. The youngest among those we meet is in her 60s. Some are in their 80s, and one woman is 90 and still diving. They love this job so much, they feel most at home and like themselves while plunging beneath the waves. The implication is, they’ll only retire if they absolutely have to.
Kim mixes a few talking heads into the narrative, but mostly follows her subjects as they dive for mollusks and socialize. She highlights two of the haenyeo: Joo Hwa, who sings traditional songs in an exaggerated manner until her friends and coworkers laugh; later, we see her at home, near tears because she fractured her ankle and needed surgery, and therefore can’t dive. Soon Deok is the de facto spokesperson of the haenyeo; when they stage public protests against Japanese officials’ plans to dump radioactive water from the Fukushima nuclear plant into the ocean and contaminating their diving areas — yes, this is also a story about little people fighting corporate interests — she gives speeches on stage, and even travels to Switzerland to give a brief address at the United Nations.
We also meet Jeongmin and Sohee, haenyeo partners from nearby Geoje Island. They’re in their 30s, and are haenyeo influencers who gained some fame via their social media videos. They didn’t start young like the women on Jeju – Jeongmin, a mother of three, became a haenyeo when her husband’s business fell apart, and Sohee began diving after giving up a suffocating office job for five years. But they’re the real thing, diving long and hard and legit like the best haenyeo do, not just posing in cute wetsuits for their followers. When they meet the Jeju haenyeo, they’re greeted with open arms. But Jeonhmin and Sohee are rarities. In the 1960s, the haenyeo numbered above 30,000, but only 4,000 remain. Warming seas and pollution have cut into their harvests. A school for young divers and a festival in honor of the haenyeo were founded relatively recently, but it may be too late. This culture is on the cusp of extinction.
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Netflix doc The Deepest Breath, which profiled competitive freediver Alessia Zecchini, comes to mind. There are similar tragic tones – but not nearly as distressingly tragic – in dolphin-slaughter doc The Cove. And it’s worth mentioning that Kim also helmed another doc about a niche culture, The Speed Cubers, about competitive Rubik’s Cube champions.
Performance Worth Watching: I’m not going to single out any of the haenyeo – their collective dedication to their work, camaraderie and environmental conservatorship is instantly inspiring.
Memorable Dialogue: One of he haenyeo, in voiceover: “The spirit that haenyeo possess is our eternal strength.”
Sex and Skin: None.
Our Take: I’m always torn between how documentary filmmakers try to avoid making glorified Wikipedia entries while also capturing the flow and vibe of an engaging narrative without weighing it down with too many facts and figures. The Last of the Sea Women errs on the side of touchy-feely, successfully capturing the spirit of the haenyeo while also letting contextual data fall to the wayside. I was left internet-searching details: How dangerous is this job, exactly? How well does it pay? How many people feed themselves with their harvests, and does their work have an economic impact? Wikipedia says Jeju culture became a matriarchy because of the haenyeo, and that’s implied in the film, but never illustrated clearly.
To her credit, though, Kim’s goal is to capture the conservationist sisterhood of the haenyeo. These physically and spiritually robust women do what they love, and we see it in action via poetic imagery – the underwater cinematography is dynamic and beautiful. We watch as they participate in a ritual appeal to the sea god, celebrating their culture with food, dancing and ceremony. Why don’t they use oxygen tanks? Well, it’d encourage overharvesting, and a balance needs to be maintained. That, and it’s tradition. Committing your life to being a haenyeo is admirable, and not just anyone can do it (there’s an aside about how Korean men found the job too difficult, so the women just took over, and I wish the doc further explored that potentially amusing thread). Some traditions should die, but The Last of the Sea Women convinces us that this one absolutely shouldn’t. Why? When these women are underwater, they’re fully in the moment. That’s something we all should strive to achieve – that feeling of being truly alive, here and now, for as long as possible.
Our Call: STREAM IT. It’s fine to supplement with a little Wikipedia when a film like The Last of the Sea Women tackles a topic with such compassion.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.