Traipsing throughout the hotel where Moland and Nguyen are staying while looking for a place to talk, Nguyen and I have been joking around about the idea of including outtakes at the end of incredibly serious and depressing movies, like Schindler’s List. The concept is funny because it’s very wrong; doing so would cast an extremely light-hearted glow onto the otherwise heavy proceedings and effectively ruin the overall tone of the film. After an elevator ride up several floors, I turn to Nguyen and ask him what the mood was on the set of The Beautiful Country; though the film is nowhere as hard-hitting or downtrodden as Schindler’s List and has an overriding theme of optimism and triumph, it is still would be considered a very dramatic project.

"The mood on our set was very light," Nguyen says quickly. "Everybody had a really great sense of humor and we were laughing all the time." A smile crosses his face and he says, "There was this one instance where we were supposed to have these lanterns float into the sky out over this pond. Hans had this shot in mind and it was special to him for some reason." We exit the elevator and Nguyen says, "The lanterns were powered by the heat of the candle in them, but for some reason, they would only go up about fifteen feet in to the sky and then go crashing to the water." This was a distinct problem for the production because, once wet, the lanterns were rendered useless. Nguyen shakes his head, grinning widely while recalling the scene. "At the end, we were down to one lantern and Hans really wanted a good shot of it. So, the lantern was going out across the water and, of course, it starts floating downward. Some of the prop guys are trying to get out there on their boat to catch the lantern before it hits the water." He pauses for dramatic effect and then says, "One prop guy makes it out in this little boat and gets the lantern and, at this point, the boat started to take in water. It’s sinking and the guy is trying to hold up this last lantern and Hans jumps into the water to save it, but by then it was completely destroyed."

We enter Moland’s bedroom and Nguyen adjusts his suit coat standing in front of his chair while completing this story. "Hans was upset about that incident," he says in conclusion, obviously amused. "This was one of those movies that was on a very tight budget and where time was really of the essence." He sighs and finally says, "At those times, it’s really nice to have a light set with people that you get along with phenomenonally."

When I see Nguyen several weeks later in Beverly Hills, I ask him for the details of The Sinking Lantern story. "Did I tell you that already?" Nguyen questions me. I nod in the affirmative and then point out that I didn’t get it on tape. It was in the elevator. "Ah, yes" Nguyen sighs. He rubs his hands together and begins. "Well, there was this one instance where we were supposed to have these lanterns float into the sky out over this pond…"

The Beautiful Country has been making waves on the festival circuit for the better part of a year. Critics and audiences alike have taken notice of the film’s uniquely human story and the quiet, respectful tone of the project. Written by Sabina Murray from the story she and Lingard Jervey concocted, The Beautiful Country focuses on the struggles of a twenty-something man, Binh (who is played by Nguyen), who was born to a Vietnamese mother and an American G.I. father. As such, he is considered "bin-duh" by his fellow villagers, a term which, translated literally, means ‘less than dust’. And Binh is treated accordingly. Murray’s script follows Binh as he travels the world, from the most backwater villages Vietnam has to offer, through Malaysia, New York City and Texas, enduring a series of harsh and unforgiving conditions in order to connect with his father, whom he has never previously met.