Yang (Justin H Min) is a “technosapien,” an advanced flesh-and-metal robot. He was purchased by Jake (Colin Farrell) and Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith) as a big brother and cultural adviser for their adopted Chinese daughter, Mika (Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja). When Yang suddenly breaks down, the family are thrown into a gentle, softly-articulated metaphysical crisis. As Yang was bought second-hand, he cannot be restored by his original maker, Brothers & Sisters Incorporated. Meanwhile, Second Siblings, the certified reseller where he was acquired, no longer exists.
Jake accordingly turns gumshoe and seeks out Yang’s past in hope of recovering the unit. It transpires that Yang’s previous existence is more extensive than the family could have imagined.
A dodgy odd-job technician (Ritchie Coster) gets on the case, but Yang’s flesh is already decomposing. A museum curator (Sarita Choudhury) expresses interest in recovering Yang’s memories.
Mika, who adores her de-facto older sibling, is distraught and begins acting out at school. Kyra remains practical and philosophical.
From Baby Reindeer and The Traitors to Bodkin and The 2 Johnnies Late Night Lock In: The best and worst television of 2024
100 Years of Solitude review: A woozy, feverish watch to be savoured in bite-sized portions
How your mini travel shampoo is costing your pocket and the planet - here’s an alternative
My smear test dilemma: How do I confess that this is my first one, at the age of 41?
Tea-seller Jake comes to ponder his relationship with Yang lovingly, recalling a meaningful conversation about the insights he gained from the 2007 documentary, All in this Tea.
The bizarrely belated release for this melancholic transhuman drama some 18 months after its Cannes debut was worth waiting for. The second feature from Columbus director Kogonada crafts a world of clones and posthumans with dainty brushstrokes. Working from Saying Goodbye to Yang, a short story written by Alexander Weinstein, After Yang makes one think of Bladerunner as reimagined by Yasujiro Ozu.
Colin Farrell’s central turn, a lovely, soulful study of melancholy, is one of his best performances to date. Cinematographer Benjamin Loeb’s pillow shots are appropriately contemplative.
There’s a philosophical contradiction at the heart of the film’s consideration of an android’s “humanity”. Yang’s fate and existence is entirely mediated by the humans who own him. That only adds to the delicate flavours and complexities.