Alternatively titled; “Why Minari is an underrated film and yall are just being mean”.

I had the privilege of watching a screening of ‘Minari’ at The Projecter yesterday, and even as I realise that I’m very late to the party given Minari’s initial release in December 2020, I find it necessary to first reiterate how impressed I am at the themes Lee Isaac Chung chose to explore in a PG-rated film.

As of recent, asian films have been on an upward climb in popularity within the public consciousness, beginning with the widespread (and well-deserved) acclaim Bong Jun Ho’s 2019 ‘Parasite’ garnered from the entirety of the film-going crowd. Yet, I find it interesting how in most of these films, these asian directors emphasize an almost heavy-handed focus on familial relations. This is true in ‘Parasite’, ‘Burning’ and the aforementioned subject of today’s post, ‘Minari’, alongside earlier works like ‘Shoplifters’. While I’m sure this is purely a common theme that these films examine, I am inclined to believe that such a slant could emerge from a counter-movement against the onslaught of Western media, which seems to revel in the hedonism of sex and violence. In the vacuum of ‘wholesome’ family-centric films created by the 9-headed hydra of Western media, ‘Minari’ highlights the nostalgia and solace in its pastoral depictions of a middle-class Korean family moving to pre-modern Ozark to escape the poverty of Korea.

Throughout ‘Minari’, Lee Isaac Chung interweaves botany, agriculture, biblical and other (arguably thinly-veiled) metaphors to spotlight the search for identity, both of the self and of the Korean diaspora within pre-liberal racist white America. The tight camera work and narrative space yielded to the leads, Jacob Yi (Steven Yuen) and Monica Yi (Han Ye-ri) effectively paint the rickety house on wheels as a microcosm of their korean-american struggle, as a journey characterized by isolated claustrophobia and a latent sense of unease. Even in the joyous arcadian moments of stillness, of David and Anne reveling in the beauty of the nature masterfully captured in the nostalgia-tinged soundtrack, there remains a latent sense of unease, arising both from a subconscious awareness that good times don’t last long, alongside the tension that exists between Jacob’s journey to prove his worth as a male, and his duty to take care of his family.

Personally, I find the struggle Jacob Yi faces in building himself his own ‘garden of eden’ very closely resembles the idealism of Willie Loman in Miller’s “Death of a Salesman”. In the same manner, Monica’s devotion to Jacob resembles that of Linda’s admiration of Willie. Vitally however, Monica exudes a self-awareness and motherly instinct that instantly catapults her depth past that of Linda’s one-dimensional subservience in “Death of a Salesman”. Perhaps a result of the frailty of David, alongside the young age of both David and Anne, the festering sore of Jacob’s selfishness in moving the family to rural Ozark ruptures to reveal Monica’s restrained seething bitterness at the isolation she feels without a Korean community. Though this matter is seemingly patched over with the arrival of the stellar Youn Yuh-Jung (granny yi), who serves as the main source of comic relief in the film, Jacob’s yearning for success sees Monica’s outburst at the climax of the movie.

Masterfully, Lee Isaac Chung chooses to allow these developments to occur naturally, and by shifting the narrative focus from Jacob’s journey to Monica’s inner dialogue, it allows audiences to subconsciously understand each character’s motivations, whilst justifying the subsequent misunderstanding that occurs. This is reinforced through a tight script and naturalistic dialogue that rests upon incredible acting from an A-star cast. In doing so, Lee Isaac highlights how it is often, as granny commented, ‘the things that are hiding’ that are more dangerous.

Interestingly, the introduction of the granny nearing the first quarter of ‘Minari’ sees Lee’s inspection of the cultural clash that occurs surprisingly often for the Korean diaspora within white America. This is personified in their youngest, David, who grew up in California, and thus had no experience of breathing Korean air. His seemingly innocent insistence that his granny ‘is not a real grandma’ due to her repeated ‘bastards’ and her failings to ‘bake cookies’ both encapsulate the childish naivety of youth, whilst serving to encompass the struggle of bringing up a child in a country that has a completely different set of values. This is likewise seen in the small things, David’s rudeness, the neighbour’s seeming infidelity, and the (concerning) consumption of Mountain Dew within the film. Really, throughout ‘Minari’, we observe the subplot of Jacob and the Yi’s struggle to retain their Korean identity despite escaping Korea to find prosperity in the rural farmlands of America.

This cuts straight to the core of the film, namely the need to prove one’s worth. While this might initially seem like a weak rebranding of Jacob’s egotistical attempt to satiate his hubris, I find that this desire resonates in all of Jacob’s family, seen as clearly in Monica’s desire to make friends, to improve at chicken sexing, and to become a worthy mother.

Perhaps another thing to consider is the emphasis of Marianismo culture in the Asian diaspora. Monica’s close relationship to her seemingly estranged and independent mother, and the focus of Sons as ‘heirs’ of the family, permeate every interaction, and in such an intimate film, Lee Isaac cannot help but examine how this mindset could serve to leave out capable females.

Yet, the heartbreaking epicentre of the film, where Jacob’s efforts literally burn up in flames, returns the audience and the family to square one. Beginning with nothing, Jacob and Monica return to their attempt to ‘save each other’, no matter how arduous their journey might be. In doing so, despite the seeming gloom of the barn on fire, it serves to catalyze the death of Jacob’s hamartia, as he chooses to hire a water-seeker, recognizing that his success can complement his desire to benefit his family. Moreover, the beautiful symbolism of the ever-sprouting Minari at the tailend of the film effectively reflects upon the tenacity and resilience of the family, alongside the passing of the banner from granny to Jacob and Monica.

In doing so, ‘Minari’ paints a magnificent picture of a family struggling to find success, distilling the essence of the temporal fragility of joyous moments, and dialling in the importance of home. It’s at moments like these that I have to acknowledge the brilliance of Lee’s filmmaking. Aside from the semi-rushed third act wherein all major events occur, ‘Minari’ bears a striking resemblance to life, depicting its unpredictability and men’s helplessness when such problems arise. By telling yet another immigrant tale, ‘Minari’ might at first glance appear to be yet another movie by an asian filmmaker seeking to capitalize upon the pseudo-wokeness of the cynical viewership who are disillusioned with western media. Yet, I argue its themes of relational individualism, alongside Lee’s willingness to force open old wounds of compromise that stems from the love between Jacob and Monica, means that ‘Minari’ is able to maturely handle topics of relationships and self-development, creating a piece of art that resonates with those of all ages.

So TLDR; watch ‘Minari’, it’s a very good film.

Will probably take another look at it again in the context of other movies, but I highly recommend paying The Projecter a visit in the meantime.