Stream it or skip it?

The last of the sea women (now streaming on Apple TV+) profiles the haenyeo – Korean for “sea women” – a group of female freedivers who harvest mollusks, kelp and other seafood from the ocean floor off South Korea’s island province of Jeju. These women are preserving a centuries-old tradition that is slowly dying in the wake of industrialization, pollution, and the undeniable fact that holding your breath for minutes while traversing cold waters and dodging stinging jellyfish is quite dangerous. Director Sue Kim follows a group of these Jeju women as they fight for their livelihoods, and reflect on the sad truth that despite the haenyeo being a celebrated piece of local culture, they are a dying breed.

The essence: “Jeju is known for three things,” one of the haenyeo says in the voiceover: “rocks, wind, and women.” Specifically, these women are divers who collect urchins, sea cucumbers, shellfish and other tasty delicacies from the waters off the coast of Jeju. We observe how they gather on early gray mornings, joking with each other as they put on wetsuits and fins, and place their floating nets over their shoulders as a reward. It’s a sisterhood. They have been doing this work all their lives. They started young, trained for seven years and officially became haenyeo as teenagers. The youngest among those we meet is in his sixties. Some are in their 80s and one woman is 90 and still diving. They love this work so much that they feel most at home and themselves while diving beneath the waves. The implication is that they only retire when absolutely necessary.

Kim mixes a few talking heads into the story, but mainly follows her subjects as they dive for mollusks and socialize. She highlights two of the haenyeo: Joo Hwa, who sings traditional songs in an exaggerated manner until her friends and colleagues laugh; later we see her at home, almost in tears because she broke her ankle and needed surgery, and therefore cannot dive. Soon Deok is the de facto spokesperson for the haenyeo; when they organize public protests against Japanese officials’ plans to dump radioactive water from the Fukushima nuclear power plant into the ocean and contaminate their diving areas – yes, this is also a story about little people fighting corporate interests – they give speeches at the stage, and even travels to Switzerland to give a short speech at the United Nations.

We also meet Jeongmin and Sohee, haenyeo partners from nearby Geoje Island. They are in their 30s and are haenyeo influencers who have gained some fame through their social media videos. They didn’t start as young as the women on Jeju. Jeongmin, a mother of three, became haenyeo when her husband’s company went bankrupt, and Sohee took up diving after leaving a suffocating office job for five years. But they’re real, they dive long, hard and legit like the best haenyeo do, and don’t just pose in cute wetsuits for their followers. When they meet the Jeju haenyeo, they are greeted with open arms. But Jeonhmin and Sohee are rarities. In the 1960s, haenyeo numbered more than 30,000, but only 4,000 remain. Warming seas and pollution have hampered their harvests. A school for young divers and a festival celebrating the haenyeo were established relatively recently, but it may be too late. This culture is on the verge of extinction.

What movies will it remind you of?: Netflix document The deepest breathwhich one I think of the profiled competitive freediver Alessia Zecchini. There are similarly tragic notes – but not nearly as disturbingly tragic – in the dolphin slaughter documentary The bay. And it’s worth mentioning that Kim also helmed another doc on niche culture, The Speedcubersabout competitive Rubik’s Cube champions.

Performances worth watching: I’m not going to single out any of the haenyeo; their collective dedication to their work, camaraderie and environmental conservation is immediately inspiring.

Memorable dialogue: One of the haenyeo, in voice-over: “The spirit that haenyeo possesses is our eternal power.”

Gender and skin: No.

Our opinion: I’m always torn between the way documentary filmmakers try to avoid making glorified Wikipedia entries, while at the same time trying to capture the flow and atmosphere of a compelling story without weighing it down with too many facts and figures. The last of the sea women errs on the side of touchy-feely, successfully capturing the spirit of the haenyeo while leaving contextual details to the wayside. I got information about searching on the internet: how dangerous exactly is this job? How well does it pay? How many people feed themselves with their harvests, and does their work have an economic impact? Wikipedia says that Jeju culture became a matriarchy because of the haenyeo, and that is implied in the film but never clearly illustrated.

However, to her credit, Kim’s goal is to win over the haenyeo conservationists. These physically and spiritually robust women do what they love, and we see it in action through poetic images – the underwater cinematography is dynamic and beautiful. We watch as they participate in a ritual call to the sea god, celebrating their culture with food, dances and ceremonies. Why don’t they use oxygen tanks? Well, it would encourage overfishing, and a balance must be maintained. That, and it’s tradition. Dedicating your life to being a haenyeo is admirable, and not just anyone can do it (there’s a side note about how Korean men found the work too hard, so the women just took over, and I wish the doctor would potentially funny topic further). Some traditions should die, but… The last of the sea women convinces us that this absolutely should not happen. Why? When these women are underwater, they are completely in the moment. That is something we should all strive for: the feeling of truly living, here and now, for as long as possible.

Our call: STREAM IT. It’s okay to add a little to Wikipedia if you like a movie The last of the sea women treats a subject with such compassion.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.