Beyond Utopia: Documenting the Escape From North Korea
“...When life hands you an opportunity to watch footage like this, you don’t turn it down.” – IndieWire
Sharing visuals from the field has always been a dilemma for our organization. On one hand, the highly sensitive nature of the work makes protecting our routes and the identities of those involved the top priority. On the other, there is undeniable power and potential for impact in showing the reality of rescues—the high-stakes peril, raw emotion, and incredible moments of bravery from our North Korean friends. If only people could see what we did; it would become undeniably clear how important this issue is.
When Liberty in North Korea was first introduced to the Beyond Utopia team and their goal of documenting an actual rescue, we were incredibly hopeful, but with a healthy dose of skepticism. We knew all too well the countless risks, conflicting interests, and stakeholders involved in making such a project. Yet when we saw the footage, even in the most initial stages of editing, we knew this was something special.
Gripping, visceral, and urgent, Beyond Utopia embeds the viewer into the lives of several people as they navigate the path to freedom — a mother desperate to reunite with her son, a family of five as they attempt their perilous escape, and a South Korean pastor who’s devoted his life to helping North Korean refugees.
The film is both a simple record of events as they unfold and a suspenseful piece of cinema, weaved together with commentary from leading experts on the Korean Peninsula (including LiNK’s South Korea Country Director, Sokeel Park). It pulls back the curtain on the escape journey in a way that honors the truth and the film participants, while preserving the integrity of the work being documented. Although Beyond Utopia utilized Pastor Kim’s networks rather than our own, LiNK worked closely with the film’s team throughout post-production to review footage for security and accuracy.
The film made its debut in January 2023 at the Sundance Film Festival, long recognized as a hotspot for the upcoming year’s most impactful stories. To premiere at this influential celebration of cinema is a lifelong dream for many filmmakers, making Beyond Utopia’s inclusion alone a significant achievement.
LiNK’s CEO, Hannah Song, was able to attend Sundance alongside the crew and some of the film participants. She sat with the Roh family as they re-lived their escape on screen and saw how harrowing it truly was. For them to finally look back on their journey was a surreal and deeply emotional experience. Audience members were also tearing up and sniffling throughout the film and at the end, there was a long standing ovation — so deserved by these families for everything they have been through to reach freedom.
Sundance had one more surprise in store for us. A testament to the film’s heart, it won the coveted Audience Award for U.S. Documentary, selected by festival attendees themselves. The heartfelt recognition launched Beyond Utopia into another level of visibility, setting the tone for its success in the film festival circuit with some calling it an “Oscar hopeful.”
LiNK is proud to be an impact partner and fiscal sponsor for the film. As Beyond Utopia heads to theaters on October 23rd and 24th for an exclusive two-day event, LiNK will be joining the film on-screen to turn audience interest into tangible action. This documentary follows the lives of a handful of people, but the story is much larger than that. The goal was always to raise awareness and invite new audiences to learn more about all aspects of this issue, get involved as Allies, and help more North Korean refugees reach freedom.
As we’ve been able to slowly regain momentum with rescues since the pandemic, the level of visibility that Beyond Utopia offers is a timely opportunity. The journey has only become more challenging in recent years with border lockdowns, increased surveillance, and heightened restrictions. Costs have skyrocketed and become incredibly volatile, but our commitment to this work is stronger than ever.
Above all, Beyond Utopia is a story about the strength and resilience of ordinary North Koreans, despite the staggering circumstances stacked against them. Changing the narrative on North Korea to focus on the people, not a dictator or missiles, has long been a key pillar of our work. Beyond Utopia aligns with this perfectly, and we hope it brings greater urgency and support for this issue.
It cannot be overstated how rare this glimpse into this modern-day underground railroad is, and what a herculean feat it was for this film to be made.
Don’t miss the opportunity to see Beyond Utopia for yourself — now available on Hulu, Apple TV+, Amazon Prime video, and more.
A North Korean Defector’s Nine Year Journey to Freedom | Eunju’s Story
I didn’t know I was hungry until I was eight years old. Growing up, I had no concept of whether my hometown was wealthy or poor. Then when the great famine struck in the mid-90s, more people died in our city than anywhere else in the country.
That’s when I realized “Oh, this is the most difficult place to live in North Korea.”
I was born in the city of Eundok, North Hamgyong Province. Before that it was called Aoji, a destitute place infamous for its coal mines, where South Korean prisoners of war were sent to work.
In the middle of a long famine, people lose all sense of humanity. You couldn’t survive without dirtying your hands. My father was a kindhearted person, the type that was unable to hurt anyone. But towards the end, hunger drove him to steal from our own house.
On my first day of middle school, I couldn’t find my new backpack anywhere. It turns out that my dad had taken it to the Jangmadang, traded it for food, and eaten it by himself. In the end, he still died from starvation, and my mom, my sister, and I were left to fend for ourselves.
We heard that if we went to China, we could eat all the candy we wanted. With that one piece of information, my mom said she’d rather get shot crossing the Tumen river than starve in North Korea.
It was mid-February in 1999, during the bitter cold winter. The water was frozen solid and stretched over 100 meters across. My mom went first, followed by my sister, and I was in the very back. Maybe it was because I was anxious, but my shoes felt so slippery and I kept falling over as they went farther and farther ahead. We heard that soldiers would shoot anyone who tried to cross the river. But this was our only chance at survival.
My mind was racing, “What if I’m left behind and get caught?” My mom and sister probably feared the same thing.
We encountered a tributary that wasn’t frozen all the way, so my mom waited and had me go first because I was the lightest. A few steps in, the ice broke and I fell into the piercing cold water. None of us knew how to swim. At that moment, I really thought it was the end. But then my feet hit the ground. We had made it to the other side.
Not long after we had crossed into China, a Korean-speaking woman came up to us. She invited us to her house and gave us over a dozen boiled eggs, more food than we had seen in years. In North Korea, when my sister and I had a field trip for school, my mom would cut one boiled egg and give each of us half in our lunch box. To have this much at once was a true luxury. For the first time in a long while, we dared to have some hope.
But then my mom was sold off to a Chinese man. The fortunate thing was that even though my sister and I were 16 and 14 years old, we were so short that people asked if we were 7 or 8. They couldn’t sell us separately, so we were sent together with our mom.
We had been sold for 2000 yuan. When we wanted to leave, the man told us to pay him back. We worked in his house and on his farm but of course we never saw a penny. For three years, we lived in confinement, and my little brother was born.
On a quiet night before my brother was even a year old, Chinese police came to the house in the dark, knocked on the door, and arrested us.
When North Koreans get caught, sometimes they’ll roll up their money and eat it or hide it, but we didn’t have anything. We were taken back across the border with just our clothes. It’s well known that there’s a physical exam to look for hidden money. In a way, you shouldn’t even feel a basic sense of shame as a woman and as a human being. If you cry or plead for mercy, you’ll get beaten up. You cannot question them at all.
With so many people in North Korea dying of starvation, names were removed from the family register after three years without any news. We had already been declared dead. There were two minors and an adult, but our identities couldn’t be confirmed. At the time they couldn’t keep minors in prison without a ruling from the court, so we were entrusted to another person from our hometown. No one wanted extra mouths to feed, so he just let us go.
We went straight to the Tumen river and in 2002, we escaped again.
I had enough food when I was in China. Even dogs and pigs ate rice and corn. But we lived looking over our shoulders, in constant fear of the police.
When we heard about life in South Korea, where our safety and identities would be guaranteed, we decided to defect once more. We were introduced to a broker, gave them some cash upfront, and traveled through Mongolia and the Gobi Desert.
On September 1st, 2006, I arrived at Incheon airport with my mom. My sister joined us in South Korea in 2008. Nine years after first crossing the Tumen River, we were finally together in freedom.
When I was in China, my only wish was that my mom, sister, and I could sleep together, eat together, and come home from work together. I dreamed that someday we could go to the supermarket and get a whole cart full of things to share. After coming to South Korea, we achieved not only that, but everything we’ve ever wanted.
I co-authored a book about my journey, A Thousand Miles to Freedom, with a foreign journalist named Sebastien Falletti. He interviewed several North Koreans, and I agreed to share my story with him out of a sense of duty. I never thought he’d choose me.
Compared to North Korean defectors who live special lives, I don’t actually dream of being a human rights activist. There are times when I don’t want to share anymore and I feel like I have to repeat myself.
But then I think about my best friend in North Korea. Her name is Sunhwa and I don’t think she’s here yet. I imagine that she would want to live like me — to attend college, pave her own way, and explore the vast world we live in. But she is still stuck in the darkness. Until Sunhwa can live a life of freedom, I feel a sense of responsibility to continue to share.
When I think of North Korea, the dark image of my hometown floods my memories. But I would still like to go back just once and visit my dad’s grave. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that he was also a victim of the North Korean regime. I have hope that in this lifetime, North Korea will open up. I’ll return with my mom and my sister, and together we’ll visit my dad’s resting place and prepare a huge meal for him.
For North Koreans to share their stories with audiences around the world, retelling and reliving some of the most harrowing experiences, is an act of exceptional courage. They’re working towards the day when others no longer have to go through the same painful experiences.
You can help rescue more North Korean refugees and support them as they begin their new lives in freedom.
