Deep in the coal mines, two workers, Viet (Dao Duy Bao Dinh) and Nam (Pham Thanh Hai) revel in the moments they can share away from harsh gaze of their colleagues.  These blissful moments are fleeting, however, not only because they are stolen away in secret, but because of Nam’s decision to leave the country.  Few things tie Nam to Vietnam except for his relationship with Viet and to his mother, Hoa (Thi Nga Nguyen).  Before he leaves, the three embark on a journey to find where his father, Ba (Viet Tung Le), presumed killed in the Vietnam War, may be buried. 

Minh Quy Truong writes and directs Viet and Nam, originally titled Trong lòng dat which more closely translates to “In the Heart of the Earth” or even more literally, simply “Underground.”  Either of those titles both adequality and simplify the story that unfolds across the 129 dreamlike minutes of the film which premiered at the 2024 edition of the Cannes Film Festival. From its initial release at the festival, the title gained acclaim, and despite being banned in its native Vietnam it had quite a successful run across the wider festival circuit.  Strand Releasing handled distribution in the States, though it was a very limited theatrical release and the title became most widely available as a featured title on Mubi. 

The film, split in two distinct yet equal parts punctuated by a title card appearing near the halfway point, can be seen in different ways depending on which title its audiences choses to view it under.  There is no change to the actual film whatsoever, but the simple framework which a title provides helps to shape the otherwise formless narrative. 

Looking, then, first at its English title, Viet and Nam, it initially seems a straightforward enough narrative about its two title characters, clandestinely gay.  Truong, however, is not working with such easy to follow, western sensibilities, instead embracing the tradition of Tsai Ming-liang or Apichatpong Weerasethakul where the elevator pitch of the film only the pretense for embarking on a more ephemeral examination of theme.  The two actors, coupled with a script that purposefully tries to blend them together, each find their streaks of individuality, but often times meld into one being.  Sometimes at war with themselves, other times completing themself to become whole, such is the truth of any of us when confronted with a major decision where both sides have compelling arguments.  So often is the case in matters of life and love, two of the major plot points at play in this loose narrative.  Viet and Nam is far from a wordy, searing drama, however, and these two young men float through life, passing by each other with a poignant happiness knowing that their love must be secret and is soon to be severed. 

That dovetails nicely with the more literal title, “Underground.”   In the mines is where the two men are able to embrace most freely, deep below in the darkness and away from peering eyes.  Son Doan’s camera captures these moments quite frankly, but that blunt voyeurism behind the lens does not take away any of the poetry of the moment.  Truong, though, is not writing a traditional love poem with his film, rather he shows bodies for what they are; beautiful, but also kind of gross, too.  With images of blood, and later ear wax, these scenes can disarm and dissuade audiences, but Truong is not using these images to invoke a sense of body horror or shock and awe.  In the immediate, it may seem as if these images are being used specifically to provoke the audience, but Truong is actually using these images to pain a more complete picture.  You cannot have one without the other; no sex without bodies, no love without loss, no Viet without Nam.  

Finally, the film can be approached with its most poetic title, “In the Heart of the Earth,” in mind.  In this context, the earth is seen almost as a cradle, allowing Viet and Nam their respite and welcoming in Ba, wherever he may have fallen.  This title also adds some morel lyricism to how Truong uses bodies in the film, namely, and to borrow a very western metaphor: ashes to ashes, dust to dust.  As much as Nam is looking to escape, there will always be ties back to this land be them ties of blood or ties from the heart. No matter how far away he goes, he will always return to the earth where his father is waiting, and together they will wait for his mother and Viet.

By whichever title one choses to view the film through, Truong’s vision is undeniable, even if it is not always legible. At the risk of being overly poetic, it reads like a broken soul’s lament against the world, but instead of lashing out and tearing the structures down, the author makes the conscious and continual effort to defy the odds and choses to overcome his obstacles through love. This commitment to love offers some of the most strikingly human moments in a film that, while quite literally being rooted deep within the earth, feels so lyrical and otherworldly. Viet and Nam is far from a traditional narrative, but that is because the immensity of the emotions in which Truong is examining overfill and overflow from the guidelines of conventional structure. For an audience that is ready to take a step back and witness the infiniteness of our very nature, the film will be a rewarding experience, otherwise the weight of decades past and decades yet to be will crush them like hundreds of feet of rock and soil caving in.