Smoking Tigers is a film about a Korean American girl coming of age in K-Town, Los Angeles, in the early 2000s. It follows the story of Hayoung, a lonely 16-year-old taken under the wings of three wealthy students she meets at an expensive summer academic boot camp. She tries to find a spot for herself in their affluent world, while at home her parents are recently separated, and she dreams of escaping their low-income status. Throughout this summer, she experiences the bittersweet pains of early adulthood.
Shelly Yo is the writer/director, and much of the team and department heads were also women. This is Yo’s feature directorial debut. The film was made with the support of the Untold Stories Grant via AT&T and Tribeca, where it premiered in 2023.
Smoking Tigers is a coming-of-age drama that delicately captures the tumultuous journey of adolescence with poignant cinematography and nuanced performances. Director Yo crafts a visually stunning narrative that connects with beauty and melancholy.
The film’s biggest strength is its cinematography from Heyjin Jun. Los Angeles is lovingly captured, particularly in night sequences drenched in sulfurous yellows and oranges.
The contrast between Hayoung’s modest home and the opulence of her friends’ environments is particularly striking, emphasizing their socio-economic divide—the parties she often attends are at night, lit in neon lasers or by the ethereal glow of a backyard pool. At home or at her father’s carpet shop, she faces things in bland daylight. Shadows are stark and depressing.
There is also an interesting use of mirrors and reflections throughout that were almost certainly a unique challenge. Hayoung sits in her friend Rose’s (Erin Yoo) bedroom and tells her a secret that is ultimately brushed off, as both girls are reflected in her closet mirror. She argues with her mother (Abin Andrews) in a Korean bathhouse, separated from her family by mirrored pillars.
There is also a scene near the film’s end that’s shot very, very tight on the actor’s faces as Hayoung’s father (Jeong Jun-ho) delivers bad news. They’re in a family restaurant, but the setting isn’t key—instead, the viewer sees the blurred lights of cars passing in the distant background around them. Overall, the visual storytelling elevates the film most of all.
Equally noteworthy are the understated performances, especially from lead actor Ji-young Yoo. Hayoung’s portrayal is subtle and quiet, capturing the desperation of a young girl trying to find her place in the world.
Smoking Tigers does grapple with a common challenge in coming-of-age films—the tendency for the narrative to meander. The inherent nature of such stories, where young characters are often more reactive than proactive, can result in a lack of strong, driving action. This is the case for Smoking Tigers, where the plot occasionally drifts, and the narrative seems to tick off the beats a bit too unsurprisingly. Hayoung finds friends, lies to them, and they find out. She tries to put her family back together, but things don’t go her way.
Despite this, the film’s exploration of family expectations, the pressure Hayoung faces as a young Korean American, and her transition from adolescence to adulthood is compelling. Hayoung’s journey of self-discovery is portrayed with sensitivity and insight.
Overall, Smoking Tigers is a visually captivating and emotionally resonant film with a unique and valuable viewpoint. The cinematography and understated performances buoy a narrative that occasionally feels routine.
