Columbus (2017): Where Buildings and Hearts Meet
Written by Amanda (Kru’23)
Countless films grace the big screen; some whisk us away to stunning sceneries, and others evoke laughter or tears. Some purely entertain, while others leave a lasting impression. But then, every so rarely, you find a film that tells your story, tenderly touching on your wounds and dreams. It feels familiar and comforting, like a home you can always return to. And that is how I feel about Columbus (2017).
Columbus, directed by Kogonada, is a story about two paths that cross. Jin, a Korean-American translator, is in town because his estranged father, a renowned architect, has fallen victim to a stroke. A casual cigarette ignites an unexpected encounter with Casey, a young woman working at the local library. Her passion lies in architecture, but her current life is leading her down a different path. Amidst their personal struggles and ambitions, a deep connection unfolds as they wander through Kogonada’s clever, charming depiction of Columbus, Indiana’s buildings.
The day I first watched Columbus, the weight of the world felt heavier than usual.
I was grateful for where I was, yet it seemed distant and unknown. My overwhelming thoughts craved a distraction, and almost as if by chance, Columbus appeared, speaking directly to my heart. For those nights when the world feels too big and you feel too small, Columbus is a warm blanket. It is a film that says, “Hey, you’re not alone. We’re all figuring this life thing out together.”
The day I first watched Columbus, I was lost, but then I was found.
“You know, meth is a big thing here, meth and modernism.”
One of the biggest reasons I love Columbus — and cannot stop talking about it — is how Casey’s pursuit of her dreams hits too close to home. Casey is torn between her hometown’s quiet pull and her desire for something greater. Columbus, Indiana, sets the stage for Casey’s life, but her inner storm sharply contrasts with the town’s beauty. Bound by a deep-rooted sense of duty, Casey feels obligated to take care of her loved one, someone who defines but also “confines” her. Her heart, young and hopeful, conflicts with the weighty responsibilities that “ground” her.
Though our circumstances are not entirely the same, both Casey and I share experiences of conflicting dreams and a sense of being lost — perhaps you do too. The longing for change, yet the fear of stepping into the unknown, is something I understand all too well. Just like Casey, I knew chasing one’s future involves embracing change, but fear stood in the way. Leaving the path I used to take, a path everyone would envy, was daunting, and I worried about the possibility of failure if the change didn’t turn out as hoped.
“What if I chose the wrong decision?”
“What if I regretted leaving everything behind?”
“What if staying was the better choice all along?”
Casey’s dilemma about stepping forward and letting go while being tied to the past couldn’t resonate any deeper. Through her character, Columbus succeeds in authentically capturing the unspoken conflict between comfort and growth, serving as a relatable story about seeking purpose amidst life’s uncertainties.
“You grow up around something, and it feels like nothing.”
It is a privilege to have the freedom to shape our own path, but I cannot help but envy those who have a clear, defined direction set early on. They seem to have everything figured out, while I’m left with a blank canvas. Sometimes, you wish you had someone guiding you through life’s difficult days. Knowing exactly where to go and what to do, even if it is not necessarily your own choice, can provide a certain sense of relief. Well, that was what I thought before Columbus.
In Columbus, Jin’s hatred of architecture exposes the deep emotional rift between him and his father. I see Jin’s rejection of the field as not only an act of defiance against his father’s wishes but also as a way to escape the emotional expectations that strain their relationship. By resisting this legacy, Jin strives to carve out his own identity and distance himself from his father’s shadow. Ironically, the very thing his father values becomes a symbol of the pressure and alienation Jin feels.
Yet, through Jin’s journey of self-discovery, I see that figuring out life on your own — despite the challenges — can enrich your sense of purpose. The pursuit of a destination is a continuous, evolving process, and the search for answers in a world of questions is an inevitable part of the human experience. Feeling lost can be an unexpected detour, yet it is through these moments that we discover new paths toward understanding who we truly are and what we deeply desire.
Columbus’ heart lies in its narrative about architecture, but it is something I haven’t really discussed. What can I say? I’m just a fan, not an expert! However, I strongly disagree with Jin; I believe architecture has the power to heal and is not just a fantasy architects like to tell themselves. When I feel blue, seeing beautiful buildings can be a balm to the soul. The peace is fleeting, but it is enough. And just like Casey, I also had (well, not a list) a favorite building growing up: Manhattan’s Flatiron Building!
Back to the architecture in Columbus, it is obvious that buildings play a central role in the story when the camera starts rolling. The buildings, captured through Kogonada’s still and serene cinematography, become silent observers, intimately eavesdropping on the conversations around them.
So cold, yet so warm; so warm, yet so cold.
A perfect way to describe Columbus and its architecture.
“I thought you hated architecture.”
“Yeah, I do. But I’m interested in what moves you, particularly about a building.”
Columbus is a film that celebrates passion. We’re so busy tending to the needs of others that we forget to nurture our own souls. Maybe the life we’re building is not the one our hearts truly desire. Thus, I’ve always admired those whose passion ignites their being, whose eyes light up with the pure joy of their pursuits.
To connect with someone who shares your passion is a rare and precious gift. It becomes even better when that person genuinely cares about what excites you, regardless of their own interests. The ability to openly express your enthusiasm and explore the depths of what you love is a beautiful rarity.
Finding such a person is one thing; being that person is quite another. If I ever find that I deeply care for someone, I hope to support their passions wholeheartedly, to place their dreams above all else, and to be their unwavering source of encouragement and strength. I hope to be the Jin to Casey.
In the end, just like Casey, I took a leap of faith. As it turned out just fine here, I believe everything turned out well in her unfolding chapter as well.
A love letter to the lost souls,
to dearest Columbus,
“Thanks… for everything.”
“Thank you… for being here.”
