Movie Review: Minari
By Nhan Phan
Minari, a critically acclaimed film, describes the arduous journey of a multigenerational Korean-American family as they move to the Arkansas Ozarks in search of their version of the American Dream. Directed by Lee Isaac Chung and starring Steven Yeun, Han Ye-Ri, Alan Kim and Noel Cho, this modern-day semi-autobiographical film captures the essence of family, the trauma of loss and the undeniable resilience of love. Especially considering the current wave of Anti-Asian hate crimes, this film is powerful and urgent in reiterating the presence of the Asian American identity in America.
Declared “one of the best films in 2020” by film critics, Minari has been heralded as a “profound, detail-perfect and soulful slice of American family life, with some of the year’s most sincere performances to date” (Terri White from Empire). The film earned 6 nominations at the 93rd Oscars: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Score, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actor in a Leading Role (Steven Yeun), and Best Actress in a Supporting Role (Youn Yuh-Jung). A huge landmark for the film was when Youn Yuh-Jung took home the Oscar for Best Actress in a Supporting Role; Yuh-Jung was the first Korean actress and only the second Asian actress to win an Oscar (the first, Miyoshi Umeki, won for “Sayonara” in 1958). On top of all this, Minari was given the Golden Globe Award for Best Foreign Language Film, and earned six nominations at the 74th BAFTAs.
The movie starts by depicting the Yi family’s car ride to a second-hand trailer that Jacob, played by Steven Yeun, bought in the middle of the Arkansas countryside. The ride to their new home seems analogous to one’s first steps towards a new future. However, Monica, Jacob’s husband, played by Han Ye-Ri, seems discontent with Jacob’s vision of the future, expressing her frustration and disappointment in Jacob’s choices. Jacob justifies his decision by showing Monica the quality of the surrounding soil, telling the family his vision for a vast farm across 50 acres of land producing Korean vegetables to sell at the supermarket. The children, Anne and David, played by Alan Kim and Noel Cho, respectively, are naive and innocent as they roam around the fields and tumble back and forth down the grass.
The size of this change for the Yis soon becomes evident. However hopeful Jacob was for their future, the Yis’ journey is filled with tumultuous difficulties for the family. They are threatened with the possibility of a destructive tornado on their first night, and struggle to sustain clean drinking water. But the biggest challenge the Yis face is undoubtedly the rifts in Monica and Jacob’s marriage. In the aftermath of the heavy rain on the first night, the couple erupts in a fiery exchange, where they fight about the choice to move to Arkansas. “I worked for ten years, staring at chicken butts all day working myself to the bone! Living in a tiny home with no money!” Jacob argues. Monica replies furiously, “Where did that money go? How much money went to the kids?” During their exchange, Anne and David draw and throw paper airplanes emblazoned with the words: “Don’t fight.” Every argument scene, including this one, lingers on the family’s disgruntled expressions of betrayal and disappointment, as well as pain and hope (as the kids' paper airplanes show). The rift between Monica and Jacob forces the audience and the Yi family alike to reconsider Jacob’s fight to pursue his American dream, which puts his family’s current well-being at risk for the sake of something perceived to be better.
In her worry for her children, Monica brings her mother Soon-ja, played by Youn Yuh-Jung, to take care of the kids while she and Jacob go to work in the morning. David’s first impression of his grandma is not a particularly good one: he wants his grandma to bake cookies and watch sports and not swear, just like the stereotype of American grandmas that we see in literature and movies. After all, David lived in America for the majority of his life. However, the relationship between Soon-ja and David becomes a playful one, adding a tint of humor and playful energy to the film.
We’ve taken a look at the film’s general themes, but what of something some specific—the film’s name? Minari is a plant that’s similar to water celery, but its origins lie in Asia. It’s used in ways ranging from cooking to medicine, and minari soup, with its grassy and slightly peppery taste, is a wonder to the senses. In this movie, minari is the symbol of life and flourishment; the plant grows anywhere and everywhere. It embodies the realism in the film that captures the audience in telling the story of the Yi family. If the minari plant bears any resemblance to the Yi family, it’s because both are filled with life—minari hints at the Yi family’s ability to thrive even through unforeseeable changes. At the end of the movie, minari offers a poetic conclusion that is sure to evoke self-reflection and contemplation.
While box-office hits may typically deliver futuristic action sequences, Minari delivers life through the depth of its characters. There is a certain beauty in minimalism that shows itself in the film’s masterfully captured scenic pan sequences. Minari’s style of cinematic expression is a rare find in today’s Hollywood.
Although Minari does not necessarily represent the “best” kind of film, it is an important one to experience. It is an expression of human values that needs not a big budget nor an ambitious delivery; instead, it requires patience and self-reflection. Every scene in Minari contains a simple beauty underlined by raw emotion and thought. Put simply, Lee Isaac Chung’s execution of his beautiful vision, utilizing the often-rare technique of realism, is simply stunning. Minari deserves every word of praise and every nomination. In all its struggle and quiet grace, Minari shares its secrets in the most subtle of ways. Minari is powerful, but it's also quiet: make sure you lean in close enough to hear what it has to say.
