Rating: PG-13
Runtime: 1 hour, 55 minutes
Director: Lee Isaac Chung
Quick Impressions:
My husband and I rented Minari on our date night and enjoyed it so much that we watched it a second time (as I began writing this review) so that my daughter and my dad could see it within the 48-hour rental window. I’m glad to get to watch it again. This is a phenomenal film, probably my second favorite so far, though it’s close. (So far this season, I’d rank my favorites 1) Promising Young Woman 2) Minari 3) Nomadland 4) maybe One Night in Miami.)
I feel like the only person in the entire world who watched The Critics Choice Awards this past Sunday. I wish they’d attracted a bigger audience because Alan S. Kim, the child who plays David gave the most amazing, touching acceptance speech when he won Best Young Actor. I’m sure there’s a clip available on YouTube. If you didn’t see the show (and I’ll assume you didn’t), then I suggest watching Kim’s acceptance speech immediately. I went from being sad for Helena Zengel from News of the World (who always looks so crushed when she doesn’t win) to elated for Kim in about three seconds. I hadn’t even seen his performance yet. He won me over completely with just his personality. Now that I have seen his performance, I’m even more impressed. Honestly, he’s good enough as David to get a Best Supporting Actor nomination. (I don’t know that he will. (In fact, I’m pretty sure that he won’t!) But his dynamic with Youn Yuh-jung who plays his grandma reminds me a lot of Abigail Breslin and Alan Arkin in Little Miss Sunshine, and both of them got nominations. I like the grandma’s chances better, but I find Kim impossible not to love.) When portraying David, he reminds me of my friend Kevin who used to live in the apartment above ours when I was in kindergarten. (Maybe part of it is the 1980s hair and clothing style.) Kim’s strong, endearing reaction to winning the award aside, he’s a very good actor. (It’s too bad he had his magical moment of tearful joy in the spotlight on the awards show that almost nobody watches!)
At any rate, I’m glad we finally saw Minari because I’d heard such wonderful, glowing things about it, and I’m pleased to discover that they’re true.
The Good:
Minari evokes empathy exceptionally well. In that way, it reminds me of Lady Bird, the movie I kept mistaking for my own life. At the time (back when I first watched Lady Bird), I thought that phenomenon was the strangest thing. Watching that film for the second time, I remember thinking, “It’s almost the part when I fought with my mom right before I went off to college. Just then we didn’t have much money.” Then I’d remember (suddenly, jarringly), “Wait! This isn’t my life!” But it would happen again and again. I’d fall into the habit of believing I was watching the story of my senior year of high school. This makes no rational sense. (I suppose Lady Bird is set back in 2002, so that might be part of it, though 2002 was when I started grad school. My sister did graduate from high school in the spring of 2003.) Actually, I can’t explain it at all. That’s why multiple viewings of Greta Gerwig’s movie made me appreciate it more and more. (At first, I found it pleasant, but overrated. But seriously, how does she do that? How does she make you feel like you’re watching your own life? Or is it just me? Do others feel that way, too?)
Minari makes me feel the same way. (I’m going to start calling that The Lady Bird Effect.) I watch and think, “This was such a hard time for our family.” Then I realize, “Wait. This movie is not about me.” My family is not Korean. We’ve never lived on a farm. I’ve never lived in Arkansas. My grandma was nothing like this. (I do love Mountain Dew. Well, I did. I’ve given up soft drinks for Lent. Well, actually, forever. Lent is my trial run.) I was a child in the 1980s, and we did move around so much that I usually felt like an outsider, always new in town. But the feeling of empathy (to the point of identification) I have for these characters goes beyond any rational commonalities. Stirring feelings like this in the audience can’t be easy. But Minari just makes it feel natural, which tells me that director Lee Isaac Chung definitely deserves an Oscar nomination.
Youn Yuh-jung who plays the grandma already has a SAG nomination for Best Supporting Actress, and everyone seems to expect an Oscar nomination for her, too. It’s easy to understand why. She’s not only charming (quirky, memorable), but the role also allows her to show a lot of versatility. She’s fantastic from start to finish even when what’s required of her as an actress changes dramatically.
Lead actor Steven Yeun, playing the family’s perpetually father, Jacob, is also SAG nominated. His character spends his life sexing chickens. (That’s his day job.) He has such huge dreams and limited resources. He reminded me (strongly) of my father. (It’s not the facts of his life. It’s the way he makes us feel his frustration, his desperation to succeed.)
Incredibly underrated is Yeri Han as Jacob’s wife (and David’s mother) Monica. I don’t know why no one is raving about her performance because I think she’s amazing, playing a character I could relate to immediately. She reminds me of my own mother. (We never lived on a farm in Arkansas, but we moved around a lot, and sometimes things were not entirely to my mother’s liking. I remember once when Dad found us a place to live ahead of time, promising cheerfully, “It’s about the same size as our house,” and it was literally half the size. My mother was not very thrilled about that, though Dad had done the best he could in a difficult situation. Monica’s reaction to the new family home also reminds me of Penélope Cruz in Pain and Glory. I know just what she’s feeling.) I also identify with Monica’s character myself. And I feel weirdly protective of her, defensive on her behalf. Sometimes she comes across as short-sighted or uncooperative, selfish. And it makes me want to yell, “Why exactly is she selfish for thinking of the wellbeing and happiness of her children, her mother, and herself? Why is it so wrong to want to live in a place you like and enjoy the life you have?” (I’m having this argument with myself, mind you.) I don’t understand why the actress isn’t getting more attention because I knew from the first moment I saw her exactly how her character felt, and I sympathized with her one-hundred percent.
I also have a lot of feelings about the daughter, Anne, David’s sister, played by Noel Cho. A different film about the same family could be titled How Everyone Always Took Anne For Granted. I found myself sympathizing with her character a lot.
As I try to decide on the strongest scenes in the film, I keep pausing to consider the stand-out moments belonging to Will Paton’s Paul. I’ve finally decided that I find so many of these deeply meaningful that it isn’t a scene I like; it’s Paul. I’m not sure I can do justice to the complexity of the character Patton plays in the film. Paul is complicated, broken, initially frightening, undeservedly a figure of ridicule. He works hard and has a loving heart. There seem to be a lot of people in the area who consider Paul too useless to produce anything of value. He’s not. Patton shines in the exorcism scene and also makes a strong impression when bearing his cross on Sunday. Some of my favorite moments in the movie belong to him, in fact.
Minari also has a beautiful score by Emile Mosseri (one of my favorites of the year), and eye-catching cinematography by Lachlan Milne.
I find it terribly interesting that Brad Pitt is one of the film’s producers. Does this mean that if Minari wins Best Picture, Pitt will win another Oscar (in the same way that he won for producing Twelve Years a Slave)? If this happens, I feel that perhaps Pitt doesn’t get the acclaim he deserves as a producer. He clearly has a sense of what makes a good film.
After watching Minari for the first time, I turned and said to my husband, “Well, this is a movie about the American dream.” In addition to all its other fine qualities, Minari has won by heart by being so thoroughly American. This is what Americans do. We come to this country, and we work tirelessly to make a better life for our families and our descendants, sometimes making short-term sacrifices in hope of a great reward. (I suppose there are Americans who don’t begin by coming to this country. I’m not excluding Native Americans from being American. Usually, if they want the American dream, though, they have to adapt to the culture of the people who came to their country. So in a sense, they start out dispossessed, trying to become “American,” too.) I’ve never had the experience of moving here from another country, but I have experienced moving all around this country from state to state, apartment to rental house to condo. In my childhood, we moved what felt like every ten seconds, and always, always, my father tried as hard as he could to provide a better life for us. Maybe it sounds crazy, but I really relate to this family. Yes, obviously they’re Korean, but they’re also extremely (almost quintessentially) American. (And I stress this because I keep hearing this film described as the story of a Korean family at awards shows. Yes, they are a Korean family, but they are also a very, very American family. I’m not watching and trying to relate to the family. I do relate to the family. That’s what makes the film so brilliant. Obviously, one wonderful thing about art is the way it challenges us to understand the lives of others who often live in a very different world than we do. That is great, and I love learning about other cultures. But what I’m saying about Minari is that the family does not seem to live in a different world. They’re American, just like I am. I don’t relate to them simply because of universal themes that all humans have in common. Those themes are there, yes, but in addition, this family is specifically American. Only recently have we begun to see our country accurately reflected on the screen. The family in Minari is as American as mine. I’m not saying that to be magnanimous. I’m saying it because it’s true. Maybe I’m overstressing this, but I’ve frequently heard people grumble about “representation” in film like it’s some PC conspiracy, like there has to be a quota of minorities represented or some nonsense. The point is, David is an American child growing up in the 1980s just like I was. This is actually true. The idea of greater diversity and more representation is to make our art reflect what is actually there.) I’m not sure I’m conveying this as best I could. Just watch the movie.
Best Scene:
Unsurprisingly, the “minari” scene is probably the best. (For one thing, I learned what “minari” is. She asks something like, “Do you want me to tell you what minari is?” and I was like, “Yes! Yes!” on the edge of my seat.) The grandma gets such a meaningful monologue here, laden with symbolism. We see pretty quickly that metaphorically, the minari is the family. But the snake part interests me, too. The idea that the things that hide are more dangerous pairs nicely with what we learn about the loudness of David’s heart murmur in a later scene.
Runner-Up, Best Scene:
I also like David’s punishment. The whole family works together to make this scene memorable. There’s a lot going on here.
Best Scene Visually:
My favorite shot in the whole film is the second time we see the smoke rising out of the chimney of the chicken sexing factory. (To be clear, the place is definitely not called a chicken sexing factory, but I don’t know the name of it. Is it a chicken plant?) When you watch, think about what Jacob tells his son about what that smoke means, and what he goes on to say. Consider that he must see this smoke rising out of this chimney every day, every single time he goes to work doing a job that he considers a waste of his time and talents. Thinking about this puts some of Jacob’s desperation to make the farm work into perspective.
Runner-Up Best Scenes Visually:
Two other scenes I also love. In one, we see Jacob standing out in his field just after sunset. The camera makes Jacob look almost as if he is just another piece of tall grass growing in the field.
Another lovely scene is the one in which David and his grandma go down to the creek to check on the minari, just before they find the snake. The score is also lovely here, just lovely. (My daughter thinks it sounds like the score of Us at this part, and she’s not wrong.)
Best Action Sequence:
The scene when Monica decides to help Jacob near the end is absolutely riveting. Of course, I think they’re both insane. But this moment serves as a kind of epiphany for both. (When you watch it, think about what I said earlier about the chimney at the chicken sexing plant.)
Runner-Up Best Action Sequence:
Does that first card game count as action? This part is fun to watch. Plus if I re-watch it enough times, I’m pretty sure I can learn to swear in Korean.
Most Oscar-Worthy Moment, Steven Yeun:
Both Yeun and Han excel in the emotional scene behind the Korean grocery store after the visit to the cardiologist. One thing she says to him made me think in concern, “Well, there’s no coming back from that.” Yeun is exceptionally good at conveying emotions nonverbally. That probably benefits him tremendously considering that he’s delivering his lines in a foreign language. We don’t have to say to ourselves, “Hmm…well how can I be sure about his inflection? Maybe if I spoke Korean, I would see that his line delivery is awful!” His face is doing all the work. It doesn’t leave us anything to wonder about.
Most Oscar-Worthy Moment, Youn Yuh-jung:
If any of the actors from Minari actually wins an Oscar, I’d love it to be Youn Yuh-jung. Her scene comforting David and helping him fall asleep is amazing. It’s one thing to be a scene-stealing, quirky grandma. But Youn Yuh-jung goes beyond that. Her Grandma is also deeply loving, brave in the face of danger, projecting a comforting demeanor even when she herself is afraid. And her scenes late in the movie make the performance all the more special.
The Negatives:
My dad just remarked out loud, “You know what the problem with this movie is? It’s just like real life. Does anybody want to watch real life? Not me!”
And he makes a fair point. Minari’s greatest strength is also its biggest drawback. It is very realistic. So if you’re looking for something a bit more escapist, you’re out of luck. During our first viewing, I said to my husband, “You know, in real life, enough awful stuff constantly happens. You don’t really need a contrived plot. Just watching someone’s actual life is engaging and stressful enough.”
Honestly, this is good to a point, but the last third of this film becomes so stressful that I could hardly stand to watch. To me, this is the film’s weakest section. Granted, I was on the edge of my seat, waiting to see how all the various points of conflict would be resolved, but I did not enjoy this part of the movie as much as the rest. (We’re nearing the end of the movie right now, and my daughter has thrown a blanket over her head out of anxiety.)
The last quarter of this film is so stressful that it’s difficult to watch. And it seems to drag on forever and ever. Now, possibly it only feels long because it’s so suspenseful and fraught with potential pitfalls. This sometimes feels like pacing problems (although, honestly, the movie only feels so slow because it’s so suspenseful and stressful).
“I hate the dad!” my daughter complains now. “He’s stupid.”
“I’ve been there,” my dad comments.
I find him pretty sympathetic, but he is a frustrating character because he seems oblivious to the actual feelings and needs of his family.
My dad comments, “Sometimes you trick yourself into thinking that what you’re doing is for the family, but what you’re really doing is feeding your own ego.”
My husband remarked when we first watched that he’s seen that happen to people so many times.
As someone older than twelve, I have far more sympathy for Jacob than my daughter does. He’s trying so hard. But I did spend a lot of the movie exasperated with him. (I do like his constant smoking. It’s not that I smoke or think smoking is a great idea. I just wish I had some reason to write an essay called “Smoke and Fire in Minari,” and his habit would give me more material.)
Initially, I found the ending of the film a bit of a let down, simply because so much remains unresolved. But then, at what point exactly does real life become resolved? I liked it much better on a second viewing when I already knew what to expect. Also, on the first viewing, I was noticing how true-to-life everything felt and thinking of the movie as a slice-of-life drama. But on a second watch, I began to realize that the film’s abundant symbolism (including both images and dialogue) makes it a much more controlled piece of fiction than I had originally thought.
One other small, small, tiny, ridiculous thing. I thought this film was set in the 1980s, and I just heard a character say, “Go big or go home.” I thought this phrase originated in the 1990s. (I remember looking up its origins last year when I discovered my mother had never heard the expression. I thought that was bizarre. Then I googled it, and discovered to my shock that it first came into use in the 90s. That explained why I thought people had been saying it since forever and my mother had never heard it before. (I’m sure she had heard it. But she always insisted that she knew absolutely no news or pop culture from when my sister and I were children.) This isn’t a big deal. I just happened to notice as I watched for a second time. (The expression may have been used in the 1980s, too, of course, but I think it’s probably an anachronism here.) Why does this matter? It doesn’t.
Overall:
Minari is my second favorite film of (the long) 2020 so far. I hope that Steven Yeun and Youn Yuh-jung get Oscar nominations, and if you ask me Alan S. Kim, Yeri Han, and Will Paton would make deserving nominees, too, but I realize the Academy can’t nominate everyone in the whole cast. Movies don’t exist just to get Oscar nominations, though. Minari is a beautiful film, and that’s enough. If it does get a bunch of Oscar nominations Monday morning, so much the better. My daughter says it’s her new favorite film this year.