It is a reality that I have noted several times in my columns: as more and more people resign themselves to continuing isolation, the demand for worthwhile home entertainment remains strong, with many people turning to streaming services to catch up on movie releases. Of course, choosing which movies to watch is always something of a gamble, but anyone looking for a thoughtful, rich, and rewarding film experience might well turn to Minari.
This film has, of course, received much attention in that Yuh-Jung Youn received this year’s Oscar for best Actress in a supporting role – a breakthrough achievement for the Korean actress. In fact, while some may suspect that the award was given as a way of proving inclusiveness and political correctness, her work in the film is without question worthy of such recognition. Equally remarkably, all of the leading actors turn in similarly compelling performances in a film to which many will be delighted to relate.
Minari tells the story of a Korean family that moves from Seattle to Arkansas. Their immigrant experience reflects a reality that many in our community (including from very different countries) have experienced. Motivated to seek a better life, they come to a new country and take whatever job they can find.
In the case of this family, the husband and wife work in a chicken processing plant identifying the sex of chicks. As a sidebar, it should be noted that their work may cause distress to many: the male chicks are killed. Its significance, though, of wanting to move from a culture of death to one of life is basic to the film’s thematic development.
The desire of the man to aspire to something more fulfilling is the cause of their move as he hopes to achieve independence and fortune as a farmer. As with many immigrants, there is the fear that the gamble may not pay. The wife regrets the move to lonely isolation from an urban community with all of its conveniences and services, particularly as their son has a heart condition. The house to which they move is a somewhat dilapidated trailer. The father has no real experience with farming. All of this gives rise to numerous family tensions, which are further increased when the wife’s mother comes from Korea to join them.
The story that unfolds is indeed similar to that of many immigrants. More importantly, it is told in a gentle, totally credible fashion. The family make mistakes; they squabble as many family members do, but they share a genuine love which compels them to compromise; they share moments of frustrations, but just as many of genuine but familiar happiness. In short, the film does not strive for the sensational. It presents the ordinary.
Even when the family goes to church and the members of the community make what on the surface might be regarded as racist comments, their reactions really only reflect the recognition that the family is different, and they are warmly welcomed. This is a film about ordinary people leading ordinary lives. What makes Minari so extraordinary is that it becomes a memorable meditation on the often-overlooked wonder of life as experienced by millions – and not merely migrants.
Richly textured, the film is strengthened by unforced symbolism – a symbolism which is reflective of the experience of millions of families over millennia. Emphasis on the traditional elements of earth, air, fire, and water; references to a variety of religious experiences; the passing on of traditional values from one tradition to the next and the acquisition of new ones; above all, the symbolism of the plant that is the title of the film – all of these are woven seamlessly into the tapestry of the film – a film which unfolds in a gentle and leisurely way that invites the viewers constantly to reflect and consider its import for themselves and the millions of others who have preceded them.
Delicately written and directed by Lee Isaac Chung and based on his own family’s experience, beautiful to look at, impeccably acted, accompanied by a perfect score, this is a remarkable film. In fact, my only negative reaction to it is that the ending is a little too rushed – the complete antithesis of all that precedes it – even though all viewers can flesh it out from their own experience.
Minari is indeed a satisfying, rewarding and artistic achievement, which is admirably suited to these times when we all have the leisure to consider and ponder what is truly important, indeed extraordinary, in our ordinary lives.
