An intimate and surprisingly witty story about family, finding shared connections and building roots in new places, Minari speaks to the importance of hope and resilience in difficult times. Written and directed by Lee Isaac Chung, Minari is a semi-autobiographical story about a Korean American family who moves to Arkansas in search of a fresh start. The film premiered at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival, where it won the U.S. Dramatic Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award.
Chung built the narrative foundation from his own memories of growing up as a child of Korean immigrant parents on a farm in Arkansas, and says he found the inspirational push to finally make the film from reading Pulitzer-winning writer Willa Cather, who once said her life began when she stopped admiring and started remembering. The quote resonated strongly with Chung, and he began writing down a list of memories that eventually formed the basis of the film. (Chung gives a nod to Cather in the opening scene by way of the rental moving truck).
Set in the 1980s, Jacob Yi (Steven Yeun) uproots his family from California to rural Arkansas to fulfill his dream of starting a farm, much to his wife Monica (Yeri Han)’s chagrin. Jacob and Monica work at a hatchery while Jacob simultaneously embarks on his new farm venture with help from local labourer and Evangelical Christian Paul (Will Patton). Jacob and Monica’s pre-teen daughter Anne (Noel Kate Cho) is almost as keen as her mother about the move, but Anne’s younger brother David (Alan Kim) embraces it—that is, until he learns his maternal grandmother, Soonja (Yuh-jung Youn) is coming to live with them.
The anxious manner in which Monica prepares the house and her children for Soonja’s arrival creates an expectation that Soonja will be a somewhat imposing, harsh figure. Instead, Soonja is a firecracker with a wild spirit and sharp wit. She gambles and swears, cracks bold jokes, and has a deep connection with nature. She’s nothing like what young David expects of a grandma (she doesn’t cook! She doesn’t bake cookies!), but she brings such life and humour into the home and the film, encouraging the family to loosen up. A vivacious performance from prolific Korean actor Yuh-jung Youn, Grandma Soonja is undoubtedly an essential piece of Minari’s soul. Her shifting relationship with David in particular shines through in a series of mischievous stunts, shared tender moments and trips down to the river.
Meanwhile, Jacob and Monica must deal with their own shifting dynamics as they navigate a rocky new start. From the film’s opening, a distinct lack of communication causes friction between them. Monica’s surprised horror at learning upon arrival that the rural trailer home miles from any nearby town is the “fresh start” Jacob intended for their family speaks volumes to the couple’s different visions for their family’s future. Monica realizes too late that the “big garden” Jacob wants to build is actually a full on farm. We understand her anger and isolation, and yet we also empathize with Jacob as we witness his passion for the land and his deep fears of failing both the farm and his family. The unhurried narrative offers the actors space to live in their characters, crafted with nuance from Chung’s lived experience and skillfully rendered whole by Yeun and Han.
We root for Jacob’s farm to succeed while trying to fight off the growing feeling of impending catastrophe as we’re introduced to a plethora of possible threats: tornado warnings, dwindling ground water, financial concerns, and mounting marital tensions (to name a few). Chung keeps us on our toes, offering surprises along the way, and when the other shoe finally drops it has unexpected implications and underscores the family’s sacrifice and resilience.
While family plays a central role in the film, Minari also speaks to themes of community. Paul’s expressive, emotive faith is initially off-putting to the more pragmatic Jacob, but they soon develop a friendship, working in tandem on the farm and learning from each other as they go. The church community proves more awkward, as the family encounters well-meaning but ignorant white people. In an interview with GQ, Chung explained his deliberate choice in this scene to “be hopeful about people and more optimistic in a way,” recognizing it might seem naive but that it comes from his belief in “the fundamental foundation of humanity that we all share.” In the wake of recent violent events, there’s an added weight attached to Chung’s choice to be optimistic about society’s ability to come together and focus on our shared connections rather than our differences.
Minari has been nominated for six Oscars including Best Picture, providing some vindication after the film was placed in the foreign language film category at the Golden Globes thanks to an antiquated rule requiring dialogue for best picture nominees to be at least 50 percent English. In the face of divisiveness, Chung offers a hopeful way forward. Minari, the titular plant that Grandma Soonja grows down by the river, is beautifully resilient in its ability to find roots in unfamiliar territory and contribute to the health of the ecosystem; as the plant grows and spreads, it cleans the water and improves the surrounding environment. Like the film itself, it’s a story of immigration, strength and inclusion.
Score: A