The departure of a beloved giant panda, sent home from Koreo to China to propogate this endangered species, becomes a most touching farewell as we mourn her leaving with the two zookeepers who cared for her in “My Dearest Fu Bao.”

Pandas are among nature’s most adorable creatures, and this documentary by Shim Hyeong-jun and Thomas Ko encourages the viewer to overdose on cute. But it’s also about loss, solitude, intimate grief and very public group grieving and the connection humans feel with animals, which those animals often acknowledge.

Fu Bao was born in Korea, and as she reaches four years of age, she’s to go home to her natural breeding place, where the bamboo is sweeter and the gene pool is larger, ensuring the survival of this rarest of bears.

Her leaving hit the staff of the Everland Zoo — which is all but built around housing and letting the public see pandas — hard. They still have Fu Bao’s parents, and her two adorable baby sisters, as a draw. But the years of care, attention and interaction with Fu Bao makes this loss lead to grieving, especially to her chief caregivers, Kang Cheol-won and Song Young-kwan.

The two men have tended gardens raising food for the zoo, improved her playground, cleaned her night time enclosure, and catered to Fu Bao’s every need. Learning that she was leaving, Kang even arranged for a heavy duty hammock to be sewn and he himself installs it in a tree in her compound. She and her mother played and napped in one when she was a toddler, he explains.

Both men acknowledge openly-expressed male grief and even male hugging aren’t the social norm in Korea. But this departure hits Kang so hard he weeps and it makes Song recall an earlier on-the-job loss that he only just got over, thanks to the lovable Fu Bao, who let him “love again.”

Surrounded by a park emblazoned with slogans playing up the countdown to Fu Bao’s departure the two — Kang especially — struggle to cope, and to comfort the mobs that pour in to see her before she leaves. People endure 400 minute wait times, and wait outside the panda enclosure for Kang or Song to reassure them and comfort them, a sort of “Elvis has left the building” gesture that plays as incredibly sweet.

The two men have tended gardens raising food for the zoo, and catered to Fu Bao’s every need. Learning that she was leaving, Kang even arranged for a heavy duty hammock to sewn and he himself installs it in a tree in her playground compound. She and her mother played and napped in one when she was a toddler, her explains.

Both men acknowledge publicly expressed male grief and even male hugging aren’t the social norm in Korea. But this departure hits Kang so hard he openly weeps and it makes Song recall an earlier on-the-job loss that he only just got over, thanks to the lovable Fu Bao, who let him “love again” (in Korean with English subtitles).

Surrounded by a park emblazoned with slogans playing up the countdown to Fu Bao’s departure —
“You’ll always be our baby panda!” — the two, Kang especially, struggle to cope, and to comfort the mobs that pour in to see her before she leaves. People endure 400 minute wait times, and wait outside the panda enclosure for Kang or Song to reassure them and comfort them, a sort of “Elvis has left the building” gesture that plays as incredibly sweet.

One is tempted to ask what psychologists and sociologists might have to say about this public grief and human connections with affectionate and adorable animals. But when the departure comes and goes, and Kang travels to visit Fu Bao in her Chinese home some while later, we have our answers. And you’d have to be made of stone to not be moved.

Rating: unrated, G-worthy

Cast: Kang Cheol-won, Song Young-kwan and Fu Bao.

Credits: Directed by Shim Hyeong-jun and Thomas Ko. A Well Go USA release.

Running time: 1:36