In the recent season, Sandra Oh positioned herself behind a lectern at a graduation ceremony in the Granite State, ready to share university-leavers words of hope during a time of permacrisis. She met the moment, opening up about her past battles with depression and anxiety, before making a sincere argument for embracing discomfort and compassion “so we can meet cruelty again and again and not {lose our humanity|sacrifice our compassion|forfeit our empathy”. This was increasingly important, she clarified, when many global figures “claim power through fear and oppression”.
“I was tremendously apprehensive about it,” says Oh. “I dedicated myself fully.” She immersed herself into the mindset of 20-year-olds not just concerned with their own futures but about the wider situation. “Our planet is in crisis!” she observes, envisioning their fears. “There’s wars all over! The weight is immense, so all I’m going to do is consume negative news.” But, crucially, Oh wanted her listeners to find their way to delight – thus the movement. “Remaining still while enduring the planetary anguish,” she explains, clearly capturing the philosophy she shared that day, “will help you understand how to be in the world.”
There are now T-shirts printed with the words Oh famously said at the Emmys: ‘Simply being Asian is a privilege’
The presentation – with its openness and empathy, its recognition of the world’s cruelties while still locating instances of delight – feels distinctly fitting for Oh. Born near Ottawa to parents who emigrated from Korea, the performer, whose celebrated performances in the famous medical drama and Killing Eve made her the initial performer of Asian descent to win multiple Golden Globes, has since earned admirers for her fierce support of broader inclusion in the industry.
Friendly and lively, her own speech today is filled with plenty of amusement. “Just a moment please!” is the opening line one notices as she talks over the phone from the Big Apple, buying a moment as she tries and fails to turn on her camera. But Oh soon becomes more reflective, likely to experience lengthy pauses as she talks about everything from the environmental crisis to AI to racial equality.
Suitably, Oh’s current endeavor – the independent movie from Canada the thought-provoking title – is about locating hope amid the crisis. After an apocalyptic, computer-caused catastrophe hits Earth in the very deliberately chosen year of the near future, civilization has been restructured. By the year 2040: peace has been achieved. Traditional workplaces, devices and gadgets are artifacts from a fallen society. Individuals occupy their time tending to their plants. But there are conditions: they stay local, electricity is restricted and – the major caveat – everyone must undergo state-required euthanasia at half a century. Oh plays Ellie, a an individual who lived through the event, who is supporting her daughter into her new job as a “documenter” of these “conclusion” ceremonies. These can be chosen from a booklet, with choices featuring church memorials and seaside partings with champagne.
When your primary source of love is the device, changes are occurring to you at an subconscious, very powerful level
“My chief fascination was the script’s contemplation of dying,” says Oh, in particular how the awareness of finite existence would change one’s outlook on living. It’s an increasingly urgent question, Oh says, recalling an preview event last year in the coastal locale while fires burned across the metropolitan area. It brought home the idea that the film is not really about the future. “This reflects current reality,” she says. “Our world is already aflame.”
When they were making the film, Oh asked director and writer the visionary artist to include AI in the script. How does she think modern tools are altering our lives? “Phones and social media,” she says, “are reconditioning people.If your main emotional connection is the device, changes are occurring to you at an deep-seated, very powerful level.”
The way she copes to this retraining – “I find it difficult, and I had no childhood exposure to this technology” – is choosing to do “small, profoundly meaningful” films such as this latest one, as well as theatre. She has been playing a Shakespearean character in the beloved comedy at the Delacorte in the city's green oasis. “I connect with 2,000 people in an open-air theatre. It's palpable people really want to come to the show to laugh, have a enjoyable experience, for it to be uplifting, out in nature. It's a collective experience and you’re interacting – through the Bard's works.” In the age of the machine, “such true human interactions become way more important”.
Oh talks a lot about making conscious choices, thoughtful picks. “This is the gift of midlife,” says the actor, who has just turned 54. “There is so much in the world, in society, that you’ve been existing without awareness. But you see that crack of light coming through – and realise that’s what you want to pursue. In my view, this defines middle age. And it’s very absorbing.”
The performer has discussed about rejecting prejudiced ideas she internalised from her youth, recalling a hurtful event with an talent manager when she came to Hollywood in 1995. The agent recommended to return home as there was little chance for artists with her background in the US. Years after, on receiving the spy thriller screenplay, Oh was unsure which secondary role was intended for her. “Honey,” her agent said. “It’s Eve.”
In recent years, Oh has put her considerable heft into narratives about overseas communities, acting in the animated hit Turning Red, the thriller the maternal-themed story, and the humorous project the game-based narrative. She’s also played the administrative character in Vietnam war drama the acclaimed series and frazzled academic Ji-Yoon Kim in streaming show The Chair. These characters, unlike the ones that made her famous, specifically consider her character’s roots in the script.
“I reflect on the ceremony when the multiverse adventure won big,” she says. “It was so important. To create change, you need a wider group – to get traction, to acquire knowledge, to know how to support each other. At the beginning, actors like colleagues in the industry – we’d had long-standing relationships, but we rarely appeared on a show or film, because we were always on our own. It’s still a tough industry, often favoring, honestly, a traditional male-dominated system.”
Variety, justice and integration may be {under attack|
