Big Fish & Begonia

Norshteyn's animated montage of memory, lullaby, and wartime loss treats time as a tide that washes the living and dead through the same dim courtyards. Like Chun's underwater realm, its spaces feel half-remembered rather than imagined, suggesting that the soul's archive is older and stranger than personal history.

Drawing on Aboriginal Dreaming, the show depicts an ancient species emerging into modern Sydney as the custodian of two worlds learns the burden of intermediary duty. Its protagonist, like Chun, inherits a cosmological role he did not choose and must reconcile communal survival with personal obligation to a being marked as other.

Juan Preciado descends into Comala seeking his father and discovers a town populated entirely by murmuring dead whose unfinished business has dissolved time itself. Rulfo's compressed novel, like Chun's odyssey, presents the underworld as a place of moral debts that the living are obligated to settle by simply listening.

Keita, a Mande noble born albino and thus marked between worlds, transmutes griot praise-song into orchestral lament for displaced spirits and ancestral obligation. The album's swelling polyphony enacts the same cosmology as Big Fish & Begonia: that an individual voice gains weight only when it carries the dead forward.

This melancholy piglet's daydreams unfold in a Hong Kong where mythic ambition crashes against tenement reality, narrated with the same Cantonese tenderness toward small lives that Chun's village evokes. McDull's quiet acceptance of disappointment becomes its own form of cosmological wisdom: that ordinary souls also pass through worlds, just on smaller orbits.