It felt like a striking coincidence that I had just watched ‘The Thai Interpreter’ last week, a movie about the struggles of Thai immigrants in the United States with its justice system. With ‘Dear You’ (2026), the filmmakers tackle something smaller but just as universal: a long-distance love between a man in Thailand and a woman in China, divided by 3,000 kilometres of sea and land. Set around the 1950s, during the fifth wave of Chinese migration to Thailand, it takes us back to a time when a long-distance parting truly meant you might never see the one you love again.
Spoilers ahead
The core of ‘Dear You’ lies in ‘qiaopi’ (??), known in the Thai-Chinese community as phoey guan: the letters and money sent by overseas Chinese to their families on the mainland.
The film opens with Hiou-ui, a debt-ridden grandson who seeks his estranged grandfather, Den Bhagseng, believed to have remarried in Thailand and become a billionaire. Upon arrival, he discovers that his grandfather, who had kept sending money and letters to his grandmother, had died long ago, and that the person who actually cared for the family was a Thai-Chinese woman named Zia Lamgi.
This leads us to where the majority of the film takes place. It follows Bhagseng in the 1950s as he flees to Bangkok due to war, separating him from his wife and Hiou-ui’s grandmother, Iap Sogriu. As Bhagseng arrives, he works hard to send his wife money as well as save for his own eventual return. The only means to keep in touch with his wife is through letters.
Additionally, we see how distance and technological limitation are not a barrier for their love. Language also plays an important part. Bhagseng, being illiterate, had to find ways to read, ‘write’ back, and send letters to his wife in a land where Chinese was not so common.
In terms of cultural representation, ‘Dear You’ speaks volumes to me, as I am from a Chinese migrant family. Like the majority of Chinese migrants in Thailand, the characters speak Teochew dialect, which was also spoken by my ancestors.
The film is filled with Chinese cultural details like foods, traditions or even spoken phrases that, although I don’t fully understand what is what, touched something deep in my brain, memories of home, in a Chinatown in the upcountry. It vividly reminded me of that, and I believe that even audiences without overseas Chinese heritage can appreciate the cultural beauty portrayed here.
Admittedly, seeing this film made me appreciate the technology that lets us connect instantly. The film echoes this in the present-day timeline with Hiou-ui, where video calls and airplanes erase distance instantly compared to the struggles Bhagseng faced.
While writing this, I noticed one major character was intentionally left out of the trailers. Zia Lamgi begins as the owner of a Bangkok hostel where Bhagseng stays. Their relationship deepens as she helps him read his wife’s letters. I appreciate that the movie avoids a romantic angle between them, instead focusing on their friendship and mutual support.
I think it’s a clever choice to keep Lamgi hidden in promotional material so we can only discover her alongside the characters as the story unfolds. The strongest part of the film is the unexpected connection between Lamgi and Sogriu, who, despite never having met, shape each other’s lives. The audience’s awareness makes this situational irony culminate in one of the most beautiful climactic reunions between two strangers who have never met.
The film is not without flaws. Its small budget shows at times. This is the first time I’ve seen Thai characters in a film dubbed by voice actors instead of having Thai actors speak Thai-it stood out like a sore thumb. Other characters use their real voices, but the Thai characters sound dubbed. I’m not sure whether this was due to casting or a post-production decision, but it’s more an immersion issue than a representational one.
Ultimately, ‘Dear You’ is a powerful story of both romantic and platonic love, and a beautiful portrayal of overseas Chinese life in Thailand, past and present. It is specific enough to capture the culture and experience of Chinese migrants, yet universal enough to move anyone who has felt love and longing.