COURTESY HIFF Young-Ja Wike, 76, lives a life of isolation and sadness with her husband, who brought her to the United States as a Korean war bride. She is surprisingly open in telling her story to director Hosup Lee.

Korean war bride’s
grim tale is heart-breaking

Smiles are rare in the world of Young-Ja Wike, and mostly in the past. Happiness shows in her eyes in old photographs with her small children, but in the present, Young-Ja's life is one of isolation, betrayal and bone-deep loneliness.

"And Thereafter" South Korea, Golden Maile Award-nominated documentary, plays at 4:15 p.m. Friday and 1 p.m. Oct. 30 at Dole Cannery Rating: 3 (of 5)

"And Thereafter" is relentlessly sad -- that is its power.

As a Korean war bride, Young-Ja came to the United States to escape the poverty and violence of her native land. She had already lost all four children from a first marriage.

For a time, life with the man she calls "Grandpa" is decent, but something -- war, perhaps -- has damaged him. There is just one moment of tenderness between them, when she is trimming his gray hair. "Honey, you very handsome," she says. "I love you so much."

It is an incongruous moment, though. They remain together only because Young-Ja has no alternative, and as she haltingly tells her story, it becomes clear that her husband has betrayed his entire family.

This tale might offer some hope if Young-Ja had the love of her children, but they are worse than useless. "When they were young, I thought all I had to do was raise them," she says. "But now they are grown and now my worries are as big as mountains."

She points out a certificate that son Timmy earned "for being a good boy." It turns out the certificate came from a prison program, during Timmy's stint on drug charges.

Some peace is found in her garden of chili peppers, in nursing them from green to red and spreading them like a carpet around her to dry. We see her flee to the garden when older son Jimmy -- 45 and still living at home with his huge collection of G.I. Joe dolls -- is particularly cruel.

Young-Ja cannot communicate much with those around her, not even her own family. It is deeply affecting to see her in a store, asking another customer for help, and to see that customer walk away, unable to understand Young-Ja's English.

Speaking to filmmaker Hosup Lee in Korean, Young-Ja is quite open about the most grim details of her life. It seems she has waited 40 years to speak to someone, anyone. This in itself is heart-breaking.