A father fights to save his young daughter when their family is torn apart by the Khmer Rouge.
THE STORY
“Krousaa” is “family.” During the Cambodian Genocide, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge changed the meaning of “Krousaa” from “family” to the “individual.” An individual’s loyalty belonged exclusively to the Cambodian Communist regime known as Angkar.
In April 1975, the Khmer Rouge seizes Cambodia, forcing millions from their homes under the ruthless rule of Pol Pot. Among them is PRAK, a young father, his pregnant wife SIEN, their spirited daughter CHHAYA, and Sien’s brother, NAKRY. Inspired by true events, KROUSAA is a gripping portrait of sacrifice and survival in the face of genocide.
KANICA SUY - Writer/ Producer Statement
KROUSAA is inspired by my cousin’s harrowing attempt to escape the Khmer Rouge by hiding in a truck among the dead. I’ve also woven in fragments of my parents’ survival – like the moment my father handed over his denim jacket to soldiers in exchange for his life. These glimpses into my family’s trauma compelled me to dive deeper into my ancestral history. That journey led me to a black-and-white photo of a nameless girl with haunting eyes. I imagined the fear and confusion she must have felt in the chaos that likely separated her family and stole her life. For that reason, I named the child in KROUSAA “Chhaya, ”which translates to “Hope” in Khmer. KROUSAA aspires to be a voice for the nameless girl in the photo, for my family, and for all victims of genocide who can no longer speak for themselves. Last year marked the 50th anniversary of the Cambodian genocide, making this story especially timely. In the wake of the second ceasefire in the Cambodia–Thailand conflict, KROUSAA seeks to continue the vital work of telling stories that honor Cambodia’s history while bringing greater awareness to its culture, resilience, and legacy.
CHANDY SUM - Director/ Producer Statement
When I first read KROUSAA, something moved deeply inside me. Though it’s based on the writer’s family story, it felt like my own. The silence, the loss, and the small traces of love that fought to survive all echoed the stories my mother told me about her childhood.
My mother and aunt were also children during that time, both even younger than Chhaya. My grandmother fled with them in fear and hunger, while my grandfather was killed. Some of my family members survived, but they still feel as if the pain happened only yesterday. Even after 50 years, living far from their homeland, they remain haunted by those painful memories.
KROUSAA brings me full circle. It allows me to give voice to the pain that so many Cambodian families have carried in silence. For me, this is not just a film — it’s a bridge between generations, a way to honor those who survived and comfort thechildren who still carry their memories.