Wonderland 2024

In the end, Bai Li’s journey reveals a poignant truth about the nature of life and death. Although she initially enters Wonderland to reconnect with her daughter and find some comfort after her terminal illness, she ultimately discovers that she cannot stay in this artificial world forever. As she fights to reunite with Jia in the real world, her efforts disrupt the delicate balance of Wonderland, eventually leading to her realization that she has died, and her existence in that digital space is a form of afterlife. Thanks to the mysterious connection through the Tree of Life, Bai Li can finally communicate with her loved ones— Ja and Tae-joo— and bring closure to her story. Her ability to reach Tae-joo, who recognizes her as his wife, confirms that her digital existence is rooted in her true life and death. The film closes with Bai Li accepting her mortality and finally letting go, acknowledging that the real, physical connection to her daughter and loved ones is irreplaceable.

Throughout the story, the characters grapple with the bittersweet truth that Wonderland is a comforting illusion rather than a true return to life. Jeong-in’s story highlights the longing for human touch—that even in a world of virtual reality, nothing can replace genuine relationships. Her choice to leave her virtual Tae-joo and reunite with the physically available man underscores the importance of being present and embracing real life, despite its imperfections. Similarly, the story of Jeong-ran leaves open whether she truly died or simply chose to end her digital version, which critiques how the system can be manipulated.

In the final scenes, Bai Li’s connection to her daughter and her lover signifies a resolution of grief and the acceptance of mortality. The mysterious presence of Sung-joon hints at the possibility of loved ones still being there in some form, blurring the line between digital and real worlds. And in a touching culmination, the film suggests that while technology offers a refuge and a way to temporarily escape pain, it ultimately cannot substitute for living and loving in the tangible world. The ending leaves viewers pondering the delicate balance between memory, digital eternity, and the reality we all must face.

In a near‑future society where technology promises to dissolve the final barrier between life and death, an artificial‑intelligence platform called Wonderland offers a hauntingly intimate way to “call” those who have passed. Simulated video conversations feel startlingly real, turning grief into a daily, almost ordinary exchange. The service is sleek and omnipresent, its soft neon glow reflected in airport lounges, desert camps, and cramped office cubicles, creating a world that feels simultaneously comforting and disquietingly thin, where the line between memory and presence is constantly blurred.

​Bai Li, an archaeologist leading a remote desert expedition, clings to the voice of her young daughter, Bai Jia, through a Wonder­land link even as the sand stretches endlessly around her. Her own mother, Hwa‑ran, watches the technology with growing skepticism, fearing the virtual veil may erode the fragile bonds of the living. ​Jeong‑in, a flight attendant forever in transit, balances the turbulence of her career with a fragile connection to her astronaut boyfriend, Tae‑joo, whose absence is softened by their digital conversations. Both women navigate the paradox of finding solace in an artificial echo while yearning for something more tangible.

​Hae‑ri, a manager for the Wonder­land service, fields an endless stream of calls from grieving users, often confronting the uncanny ways the platform can both heal and complicate relationships. Alongside her junior colleague, ​Hyun‑soo, she witnesses the subtle manipulations and ethical gray zones that arise when simulated selves begin to influence real‑world decisions. Their perspectives reveal how the technology, intended as a bridge, can become a labyrinth of expectations and longing.

Together, these threads weave a meditation on loss, identity, and what it truly means to be human when the digital resurrects the past. The film moves like a quiet pulse through bustling airports, endless deserts, and intimate living rooms, inviting viewers to contemplate whether a manufactured conversation can ever substitute for the messy, unfinished business of life itself.