Dear You

Dear You — A Story That Stays With You Long After the Credits Roll

There are films that entertain, and then there are films that quietly break something open inside you. Dear You is the latter.
Set against the backdrop of early Chinese emigration to Nanyang, the film does something rare — it puts a human face on a chapter of history that deserves far more telling. The Chow Shan community's struggle to build dignity in an unfamiliar land is rendered with such authenticity that you feel the weight of every sacrifice, every compromise, and every small victory.

The male lead is the kind of character you rarely see on screen anymore. Not a hero in the conventional sense, but something more admirable — a man of quiet selflessness, constantly searching for ways to grow and to lift those around him. His love for his wife and children isn't performed for the audience; it lives in the small, unspoken moments that reveal everything about his character. And when he ultimately gives his life protecting his neighbour, it doesn't feel like a dramatic plot device — it feels inevitable for a man like him. The fact that the children he helped educate later named schools after him is the kind of ending that hits hardest precisely because it's so understated.

The female lead matches him step for step. Her sacrifices are quieter but no less profound, and her decision to adopt a young boy as her own son is one of the most tender moments in the film — an act of love that expands even as everything else contracts. What makes her arc genuinely heartbreaking is the final image of her in old age, memories slipping away. A woman who lived so fully, reduced to forgetting. It's cruel in the way only life can be.

The one thought I couldn't shake leaving the cinema — if circumstances had held their course, these two would have found each other. The film never dwells on it, but you feel it. That quiet almost-love adds a layer of ache to everything.
Dear You is a film about people who built something lasting without ever expecting to be remembered. Ironically, it's exactly the kind of film that makes you want to remember them.

Rating: 9/10

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It's all fun and games 'til the tears start flowing

Fool was I to think during the first 20 minutes or so of Dear You that this would would be a whirlwind comedy with a smattering of poignant, emotional scenes. Instead, it ended up being the reverse.

Dear You is a story topped and tailed in the present day, but most of the plot is set during the mid-20th century. It revolves around qiaopi, the letters and money that Chinese overseas (in Thailand, in this case) sent back home to their loved ones.

What makes Dear You so touching is how it uses simple misunderstandings between characters to show how strong bonds between people actually are, and how yearning for home provides strength for a community. Human resilience and sincerity is the emotional force of this film.

Everyone in the movie theatre was trying to be polite and not cry too loudly, but I clearly wasn't the only one that spent the majority of Dear You in tears.

What surprised me when I was reading about the movie afterwards is how much they've achieved with a shoestring budget and relatively unknown actors. I would have never guessed this was such a cheap production!

It's also interesting to see how the movie's success seems to have spurred conversations in Singapore around language politics.

This is the first movie I've seen in Teocheow. I watch a lot of Chinese, Taiwanese, and some Hong Kong cinema, but haven't watched an entire movie or series that hasn't been in either Mandarin or Cantonese. I think the closest has been was the sporadic use of Taiwanese Hokkien in Autumn's Concerto.

This piece of history around qiaopi was also new to me. I think the icing on the cake was the epilogue of Dear You where they showed how qiaopi that had featured in the storyline were actually based on real life qiaopi. And so we all started crying again :')

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Touching

Before I watched Dear You, I was puzzled by its Chinese title, 《给阿嬷的情书》. At first, I thought it was about a grandchild writing heartwarming letters to their grandmother, just as the title seemed to suggest. But it turned out to be something completely different—and much more unexpected.

I suspect many viewers, especially non-Chinese audiences, may find it difficult to fully connect with this story. But for Chinese people, particularly those in the diaspora or those whose families have relatives who went overseas, this movie can hit very close to the heart.

The movie was originally spoken in Teochew, a Chinese dialect that is quite different from Mandarin. Many Mandarin speakers cannot understand Teochew at all. The movie has since been dubbed into Mandarin, making it more accessible to a wider Chinese audience.

At its heart, this is a story about a man, Zheng Musheng (played by Wang Yan Tong), who leaves his wife and three young children during the Chinese Civil War and goes to Thailand to make a living. He works hard, saves whatever money he can, and sends it back to his family in China. Along with the money, he always sends a love letter telling his wife how much he loves and misses her.

There is one important detail: Zheng Musheng is illiterate, and so is his wife, Ye Shurou (played by Wang Xiao Hui). So both of them have to rely on other people to write their letters. And when the letters arrive, someone else has to read them aloud.

Some of these letters are incredibly intimate and romantic, which makes the scenes surprisingly funny when someone has to sit there and read these very personal love letters out loud. At the same time, those scenes are incredibly tender. There is something very beautiful about two people who cannot read or write still finding a way to express their love across thousands of miles.

Xie Nanzhi (played by Li Si Tong) is Zheng Musheng's landlady. From time to time, he asks her to help him read letters from his wife. Quietly, she becomes deeply moved by his unwavering love and devotion to his family. After Zheng Musheng dies, she continues, for decades, to send money and love letters to his wife in China under his name.

That part really touched me.

I have known people who lost contact with loved ones after they left for the "South Seas" (南洋). Likewise, when some migrants returned to China, their families in the South Seas sometimes completely lost contact with them, not even knowing whether they were still alive.

Many of these migrants lived incredibly difficult lives. They worked under harsh conditions, lived in poverty and uncertainty, and yet they persevered. What makes their stories especially heartbreaking is the longing—not just for their homeland, but for the people they left behind.

For me, this is what makes Dear You so powerful. It isn't simply a love story between a husband and wife. It is also a story about migration, separation, family, sacrifice, and the enormous emotional price paid by generations of Chinese migrants.

There are no big-name actors here. In fact, most of the main cast are making their screen debut. Yet their performances are remarkably convincing. Their characters feel warm, genuine, and lovable rather than like polished movie stars.

The attention to detail is another thing I really appreciated. The settings feel authentic, from the letters and the way money was remitted, to the old furniture, dilapidated buildings, clothing, and everyday objects of the period. Nothing feels overly glamorous or artificial. It feels like a glimpse into another time.

And perhaps that's why this movie affected me so deeply.

For Chinese viewers, especially those whose families have some connection to migration, this isn't just someone else's story. It is part of the history of where many came from. Our parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents may have lived through similar separations, hardships, and uncertainties.

I think this is a movie that Chinese audiences, young and old, especially the Chinese diaspora around the world, should watch.

It is a reminder that behind the prosperity and lives many have today are generations of people who crossed oceans, endured hardship, missed their families, and carried their love for home with them.

Dear You is, in many ways, a love letter—not just to one grandmother, one family, or one generation, but to the millions of Chinese who left home and carried their memories with them across the seas.

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