In April 2020, in Graz, Austria, a lesbian couple are trapped during a lockdown. As their exhausting journey home to Hangzhou, China, begins, director Zheng Lu Xinyuan also reveals an earlier trip to Myanmar with her grandmother in search of traces of her great-grandfather, who went missing in the 1940s. It is difficult to merge these strands into a single theme, but what emerges is today’s world full of traces of closure and old memories of travel laid over one another like a double-print. The camera not only conveys the sentiment of the COVID pandemic through shots of empty airports, hotel rooms sealed with tape, and medical workers in hazmat suits but also discusses in small ways the tragedy of civil war as implied by the trip to Myanmar. The movement to redefine the violence and absence of fathers within their own narratives is also a clear silhouette to be considered. Like the opening confession, this is a story in which “everyone knows who the main subject is, yet that one never takes the role,” and while Zheng Lu floats between confusion and caution, she does not lose faith in self-exploration through the lens. Perhaps this is the reason why we can feel innocence, friendliness, and warm honesty in the shots of Jet Lag despite the distance caused by lethargy, fatigue, and loneliness. [KIM Somi]