A scene from Under the Sun (Icarus Films)

North Korea tickles the pants off American directors and screenwriters. With zany-haired dictators, wacky mass dances, and comically bloodthirsty slogans, how could it not? Ukrainian-born director Vitaly Mansky approaches the Hermit Kingdom from a stealthier direction. His cool but empathetic Under the Sun feels like a silent cry of despair from a weary, stoic populace.

Mansky was permitted by North Korea’s propaganda arm to film the official story of a model eight-year-old girl’s induction into the Korean Children’s Union, a training ground for the regime’s elite. Patriotic Zin-mi and her family present the perfect family tableau, but Mansky left cameras rolling to catch shadows as well as light. His work reveals not just a family but a whole country pestered and prodded to exhaustion.

In one scene, Zin-mi and her mom and dad sit down for a meal in their apartment. Regime directors march into frame over and over, exhorting the family to say dull lines with hearty gusto. “Eat more kimchi!” (North Korea has been haunted by famine, but the camera lingers on abundant, elaborate dishes.) They urge cowed, listless workers at a soy milk factory into golf-clap applause: “Look happier and more patriotic!” Behold totalitarian reality TV, where the pressure on ordinary people to play their parts never stops.

The film first zeroes in on Zin-mi’s indoctrination, and the little girl is a good sport for the cameras. She patiently applauds as a teacher and an absurdly overdecorated general revel in old tales of bloody revenge—the regime relishes getting even with its enemies. But bundled up in cold classrooms, she and her classmates struggle to stay alert. A demanding dance lesson finally reduces the child to tears.

When the movie widens out from Zin-mi’s perspective, it showcases massive human phalanxes numbly dancing in formation to Vegas-style martial music, paying homage to Kim Jong-un’s birthday. Segments run long but deepen the dread effectively—if watching the scenes ratchets up discomfort, imagine what it must be like to live them every day.

North Korea’s elite undergoes harsh treatment, so what fate could possibly await ordinary people? Mansky’s patient camera offers clues. Unsmiling throngs fan out on foot through Pyongyang’s gray, intimidating cityscape, where propaganda murals provide the only splash of color. Families pose in front of a ceremonial fountain with expressions of quiet suffering. When a crowd of pedestrians bands together to push a bus on foot, the sight is almost unbearably sad.

American culture values spontaneity and irreverence. Other cultures reward more uniformity and loyalty. However, North Korea’s coercive fantasy cannot be explained away by mere culture shock. Under the Sun takes us to the outer limits of what people will believe. It exposes the many lies they’ll tell to sustain the belief. And in its subtle way, it hints at the unspoken suffering inflicted on millions of people. Far from making North Koreans seem alien or comic, Under the Sun provokes a deep, disquieting sympathy.