“Half-moon”, interview with director Hae-Sup Sin

For Hae-Sup Sin, Half-moon is not simply a story about reunion. It is about everything that remains unresolved once that reunion finally happens. Presented at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival 2026 within Future Frames, the European Film Promotion initiative showcasing emerging European filmmakers, the short film follows a Swiss adoptive mother and her son as they travel to South Korea to meet his biological mother for the first time. Set almost entirely within a traditional Korean restaurant, Half-moon explores identity, belonging, and motherhood through restrained performances, quiet observation, and the emotions that emerge when words are no longer enough.

From a documentary to an original story

The film was inspired by a brief Swiss television documentary about a young Korean girl adopted in Switzerland whose biological mother unexpectedly managed to find her. What fascinated Sin was not the reunion itself, but the adoptive mother’s emotional position. “Usually adoptees search for their biological parents,” he explains. “In this case, the biological mother found the child. I became curious about how the Swiss mother would feel, understanding that another woman could also say, ‘She is my daughter.'” Rather than adapting that true story, Sin used it as the starting point for an original screenplay exploring the emotional space shared by two women connected by the same child.

One room, two mothers

Almost the entire film unfolds inside a traditional Korean restaurant, a deliberate choice that carries both dramatic and symbolic meaning. In Korean culture, these restaurants are often where couples introduce their parents before marriage. Sin found it an appropriate setting for two mothers meeting for the first time instead. “I thought it was quite ironic,” he says. “The two mothers face each other there for the first time.” The confined setting also reflects his interest in chamber pieces, in which emotional tension builds through small gestures rather than dramatic action. Food itself becomes another language. “Eating behaviour tells you so much about people and culture,” he explains. “That was another reason I chose the restaurant.”

When silence becomes dialogue

Language barriers shape every interaction in Half-moon. Characters speak different languages, rely on translation and frequently struggle to express what they truly feel. Rather than treating this as an obstacle, Sin embraced silence as one of the film’s central narrative tools. “Silence is one of the most universal languages,” he says. Throughout the film, glances, pauses, and body language communicate emotions that dialogue cannot fully translate. The director also credits his cast for bringing those moments to life. “I relied on the actresses’ instincts,” he explains. “The screenplay was there, but how we interpreted it remained completely open.”

Learning from the other side of the camera

Sin also appears in Half-moon as Joel, marking his first experience as an actor. The decision presented unexpected challenges. Unable to judge his own performance objectively, he relied heavily on his cinematographer and producer, both of whom watched the monitor throughout filming and offered constant feedback. The experience has already influenced the way he approaches directing. “Before, I was very controlling,” he admits. “Being in front of the camera made me realise that sometimes it’s better to give simple directions and trust what happens inside the actors.” It is a lesson he intends to carry into future projects.

The meaning behind the title

The original Korean title, Ban Dal, comes from a children’s song heard after the end credits, where a half moon becomes a boat travelling westward. Only later did Sin realise how deeply the title reflected the film itself. For him, the half moon represents Joel’s incomplete search for identity, as well as the acceptance that motherhood does not have to belong to one person alone.

Looking ahead

After Half-moon, Hae-Sup Sin is developing his first feature film, Some Korean Summer, a romance between a young Swiss woman and a Korean man set in the rural South Korean countryside. The project is currently in development with a Swiss production company. Far from feeling intimidated by the transition to feature filmmaking, the director says his greatest concern is securing financing. “I’m more excited than scared,” he says. “I love the process of making films, working with actors and seeing something you’ve written come to life.”

His experience at Future Frames has only reinforced that enthusiasm. Beyond presenting his work to international audiences, the programme allowed him to build lasting relationships with fellow emerging filmmakers from across Europe. “We immediately became really good friends,” he says. “Seeing so many different perspectives was inspiring, but leaving with new friends is probably what I’ll remember most.”

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