Life and death in a tearjerker that more than earns its tears, simply because they're real. My Love, Don't Cross That River is a simple film that would naturally provoke such simple responses - a documentary about a life lived by another's side, documented in the final stretch of their union as one of those lives fades. If you don't at least well up a solid three or more times, you ought to check that you're even alive; this is a film designed to make you cry hard and love even harder. Jin Mo Young avoids overt manipulation, the inevitable tragedy of his film proving so effective not because of his treatment of it but because he doesn't even need to treat it - it's tragic anyway. Early scenes may not always be in earnest, and there are distinct traces of manipulation in some of these moments, but the earnestness of its subjects' intentions is never in question, nor of their love. The depth of emotion that sustains their union is articulated in memories that we cannot experience, but whose effect we can feel. Love has grown between those two, even intensified, and their profound patience may even redefine our appreciation of what love actually means - for this couple, it means adaptation, and the indestructible respect that can spring from this process. My Love is a film about the significance of gesture, whether physical, verbal or emotional, and it's a thoroughly joyous experience to witness such purity and freedom in the gestures of this elderly couple, the undeniable earnestness that characterises their every action, each and all now driven by love.
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