I’m a Cyborg, But That’s OK

In a stark, dimly lit mental institution the ordinary world feels filtered through the static of broken radios and flickering fluorescent lights. Within this confined universe lives Young‑goon, a factory worker whose reality is wired to a belief that she is a cyborg. She shuns conventional food, preferring the hum of circuitry and the ritual of plugging a tiny transistor radio into her own body, a habit that marks her as both fragile and fiercely self‑defined. The ward’s quiet hum is punctuated by her murmured conversations with machines, creating a surreal atmosphere that blurs the line between human need and electronic longing.

Enter Il‑soon, a quiet, introspective resident whose own struggles with schizophrenia make him an unlikely observer of the ward’s eccentricities. Drawn to Young‑goon’s electric ritual, he watches from a distance before a tentative curiosity becomes a fragile bond. Their connection is built on shared isolation, an unspoken understanding that each is navigating a world that refuses to accommodate their inner truths. Il‑soon’s calm demeanor and subtle gestures contrast with Young‑goon’s erratic energy, setting up a delicate dance of empathy and intrigue.

The film balances a gentle melancholy with moments of off‑beat humor, letting the institutional setting feel both oppressive and oddly intimate. It explores how two mismatched souls can find solace in each other’s company, hinting at the possibility of healing without ever spelling out the steps they might take. The tone remains wistful yet hopeful, inviting viewers to wonder how far a friendship can stretch when both participants are wired to survive in their own, unconventional ways.

Last Updated: October 14, 2025 at 03:47