HAAPI FEST ’26: Y Van, The Lost Sounds of Saigon

Nothing destroys culture as quickly and as thoroughly as Communism. For instance, only thirty films survived the Marxist Khmer Rouge’s reign of terror. Cambodian pop received similar treatment from the Communist regime, but, even though most of the musicians were killed, somewhat more music survives, thanks record collections in other Southeast Asian nations. While the regime in Vietnam did not censor non-socialist pop culture with the same vehemence, it did not make life easy for its former stars, like Khoa Ha’s grandfather Y Van, who spent a short time in a re-education camp. Several of his family members endured considerably longer sentences. Consequently, the family in America had absolutely none of his music. Ha set out to find and preserve her grandfather’s lost legacy, documenting the journey with her co-director Victor Velle in Y Van: The Lost Sounds of Saigon, which screens tonight as the closing selection of the Houston Asian American Pacific Islander Film Festival.

Aptly, one of Ha’s friends describes Y Van as the Vietnamese Quincy Jones. He was a performer in his own right, but he truly composed and arranged all of the biggest stars’ biggest hits. Unfortunately, he did not live to meet his granddaughter or to immigrate with her and her family to America. Indeed, his final years were incredibly hard.

Once back in Vietnam, Ha scours music stores, but pre-1975 records just aren’t there to be found. Eventually, she and mother, executive producer Tuyen Tran, take a page out of the old record-hunters’ book, calling their family’s old friends, who refer them to other friends, and so on. Eventually, she is referred to a super-collector who truly deserves to be called an archivist.

This is a terrific story of musical and family rediscovery. Even if you are not a connoisseur of Vietnamese pop—not many American crate diggers have had the opportunity, but some Vietnam vets might be, because Y Van’s colleagues often played base concerts—Ha & Velle’s film should deeply resonate. It is sort of like watching Davy Chou’s Golden Slumbers or John Pirozzi’s Don’t Think I’ve Forgotten, but with a more uplifting ending.

As a result, this is one of the best musically-themed documentaries of recent vintage. It addresses some profoundly serious historical themes, while also embracing the groovy aesthetic of Y Van’s glory years milieu, in ways that neither conflict. There are weighty moments, but there’s also a good deal of fun. Very highly recommended, Y Van: The Lost Sounds of Saigon screens tonight (6/7), as the finale of this year’s HAAPI FEST.