THE STORY – In the hope of reuniting with their scattered family, four-year-old Shafi and his nine-year-old sister Somira leave a Rohingya refugee camp in Bangladesh on a perilous journey to reach Malaysia.
THE CAST – Shomira Rias Uddin & Muhammad Shofik Rias Uddin
THE TEAM – Akio Fujimoto (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 99 Minutes
For as long as cinema has existed, so too has activist cinema. From the union films of the 1930s, which documented the struggles of the working class, to the 1960s newsreels that challenged nationalistic myths and covered anti-war protests ignored by mainstream media, to contemporary works like “How to Blow Up a Pipeline,” filmmakers have consistently used the medium as a tool for resistance. Japanese writer-director Akio Fujimoto continues this tradition with “Lost Land,” drawing from his own family’s experiences to create an unflinching portrait of the Rohingya people.
The Rohingya, a persecuted Muslim minority, have long been displaced by systemic oppression. After World War II, when they allied with the British against the Rakhine Buddhists, who sided with the Japanese, they were subjected to what has effectively become an apartheid. While Fujimoto does not directly lay out this history in “Lost Land,” he channels it through something more immediate: the lived experience of his characters. His camera becomes less a tool of explanation and more a portal into human suffering, where politics takes a backseat to the urgency of empathy.
That empathy is embodied in siblings Somira, age nine, and Shafi, just four (played by real-life siblings Shomira Rias Uddin and Muhammad Shofik Rias Uddin). We follow them on a perilous journey from their refugee camp in Bangladesh to Malaysia in search of their uncle. Cinematographer Yoshio Kitagawa adopts a handheld verité style, capturing not only the physical hardships the children endure but also their enduring capacity for play and imagination. In abandoned buildings, they play hide and seek; their laughter reverberates through empty hallways, a poignant reminder of their resilience in a world that too often dismisses the humanity of migrants.
Fujimoto’s intention is clear: to dissuade audiences from “othering” the Rohingya, a community he came to know over 12 years spent living in Southeast Asia. One of the most affecting moments occurs during a boat crossing, when the refugees openly discuss their futures. To Western viewers, their dreams may seem simple: one wants to teach, another to sell cars, while young Shafi longs for his very first toy, but the scene underscores how these aspirations are no less real or valid than anyone else’s.
The film traces a 28-day journey, each new chapter marked by a digital scrawl of “Day One,” “Day Two,” and so forth across the screen. In one particularly gripping sequence, the children hide below deck, their faces obscured, as Fujimoto cuts between the calm rocking of the boat and the sudden fury of a storm. Working triple duty as writer, director, and editor, Fujimoto assembles these moments with verve, balancing the natural rhythms of the journey with the chaos of danger.
Ernst Reijseger’s score amplifies this tension with jagged, dissonant strings that echo the inner fear of the passengers. Though the children encounter horrors, including human trafficking, Fujimoto wisely avoids depictions of graphic violence. The story is instead filtered through the innocent, subjective gaze of Somira and Shafi, allowing audiences to experience the world as they do, confused, vulnerable, yet still clinging to moments of wonder.
“Lost Land” is the first film to feature Rohingya cast members speaking in their own language, and while it is technically a work of fiction, its truths are undeniable. The plight it depicts remains the harsh reality for millions of refugees forced to flee Myanmar. Fujimoto brings us into their world with harrowing intimacy, demanding that we not just witness but feel.
In an era defined by division and indifference, “Lost Land” emerges as both a cry of anguish and a call for compassion, a necessary reminder of the Rohingya’s humanity, and of the shared humanity of refugees everywhere.
