Directed by Lee Isaac Chung

Starring – Steven Yeun, Yeri Han, Youn Yuh-Jung

The Plot – A Korean family moves to Arkansas to start a farm in the 1980s.

Rated PG-13 for some thematic elements and a rude gesture

Minari | Official Trailer HD | A24 – YouTube

POSITIVES

– Genuine direction. Chung crafts his autobiographical narrative with an abundance of nuance and personal experiences that better helps to flesh this out as an authentic slice of life that transcends itself as being just another form of entertaining escapism. That’s not to say that “Minari” doesn’t keep us fully invested in the theatrical sense, just that its entertainment value comes in the form of these unique perspectives and personal conflicts that materialize naturally in ways that would seem obvious and convoluted in the wrong hands. In coinciding as the movie’s primary screenwriter, Chung is able to take us through a butterfly effect of sequences that stem as a result of one catalyst decision, preserving stakes, urgency, and vulnerability in ways that make it impossible not to immerse ourselves in this family’s many dilemmas, all the while maintaining a hearty slice of nostalgia for the environment that colorfully channeled his inspiration.

– Social portrait. With this being a story of immigrants moving to the southern United states, you could expect a series of conflicts and awkwardness stemming from a particular place in time, but what I love here is that none of it is illustrated with a brand of melodramatic emphasis that further transfers to racist predictability. Instead, Chung documents his protagonists experiences being Americanized with a set of character traits and evolutions that influence them and allow us to easily define the diverse set of cultural values, all the while conjuring up a sense of American propaganda that often gets the best of the dreamers. In addition to this, Chung brilliantly captures the environmental unease, both in strangers and eventual friends, that plays so effectively in the isolation that this family feels in their newfound environment, which in turn equally influences the cryptic and unorthodox movements of their characters.

– Transformative cast. Speaking of characters, the work of this gifted ensemble continuously immerses themselves in the mold of their respective roles, which in turn emits a sense of physically melting transformations that allows you to see them as people instead of characters. Yeun again delivers an emotionally complex portrayal that bears the weight of this family’s success, which often conflict with his own American dream ambitions. He’s prominently displayed throughout, but not in a way that makes him, or anyone for that matter, the essential primary protagonist, instead making this about the sum of the whole parts that live and breathe as one cohesive unit. In addition to Yeun, there’s plenty to appreciate about the youthful cast here, played exceptionally by Alan S. Kim and Noel Cho, who capture innocence and adventure in the form of two precocious children with troublesome spontaneity that often gets the better of them. Kim in particular emotes wonderfully with these bountiful eyes that articulate emotion, and when matched with Cho’s progressively evolving maturity, gives us two child performances deserving of academy recognition.

– Resounding feelings. This comes in the form of musical composer Emile Mosseri’s gently dreamy score, who between this and his work on 2019’s “The Last Black Man in San Francisco” proves why he is quickly becoming one of the best in articulating visual and audible beauty. I say both because Chung’s spell-binding photography wouldn’t transfer as effectively in channeling the wonderment of a child without Mosseri’s absorbing instrumentals audibly narrating the pulse of every movement. Most of the consistency is within a satisfying balance between piano organ and jazz trumpets that not only serenade us with a splash of sentimentality, but tonally are reserved enough to register to our ears without taking away from the capabilities of the talent within this gifted ensemble. In this respect, nothing feels heavily influenced or meandered to mirror what’s taking shape in the context of the story, instead offering several moments of thematic reflection during scene transitions that are layered with Emile’s captivating work.

– Weight in the balance. Not every creative subplot to the movie’s think tank comes with a reality of consequence that will eventually materialize to influence the story’s direction. I appreciate this because it constantly maintains stakes with the characters, all the while adding an element of unpredictability to the film that feels virtually inescapable. Without spoiling anything, I will instead say that there’s one particular subplot with the little boy that so much of the initial first act is focused and centered around. It’s a clever mention that is meant to just keep you on edge for the duration of the film, and while this element does eventually work itself back into frame, I’m glad it wasn’t used for an air of obvious melodrama that a lesser film would’ve fully taken advantage of. Instead, it simultaneously fleshes out character exposition, all the while working against contemporary conventions that constantly keeps the story ahead of the audience, like it should be.

– Pivotal dynamics. Another element to the movie’s fleshing out is the corresponding focus to duo’s and relationships that better help to push along some of the essential conflicts of the movie’s screenplay. This is realized in the ever-changing aspect of each duo, but particularly in the deconstruction of the once ideal relationship between the parents, as well as a surprisingly engaging dynamic between the grandmother and the little boy, where much of the film’s melting pot of emotional resonance resides. These relationships are given such time and gentle care to mature and appreciate within the value of the story’s direction, but aside from that are fleshed out in a way that angles and documents the many cracks in this family’s well-being that eventually come stumbling down like a house of cards. For a movie nearly two hours long, Chung could’ve sacrificed any of them to better flow through the movie’s sometimes settled pacing, but includes them as a reminder that each of them maintain presence even when we’re not seeing them, adding to the lived-in quality that he fleshes out without mention.

– Unconventional American dream. Narratives of this concept are certainly nothing new, but what allows “Minari” to stand out in its perspective an immigrant’s tale is its wrenches in structure that present a surprisingly original and endearing effort on an ages old formula. For one, this is a family who has already lived in America, so their disappointment from already failing at something somewhere else in this country is especially relevant in the way the characters attach themselves to this newfound opportunity. In addition to this, Chung captures the difficulty of such a task, complete with disappointments and surprises that feel like two steps back every time these characters move one step forward. Finally, I love how Chung articulates that the dream in question is also equally compromising to the family in focus. This presents an interestingly complex crossroads for audiences, where you want this family to succeed, but simultaneously wish they would steer clear of this particular avenue. It highlights this American dream with an outline as a cautionary tale, and proves that some things aren’t worth sacrificing for what’s behind the plush curtain.

– Serene cinematography. There’s a simplistic approach to the film’s style and intoxicating photography that is illustrated in a few key unique touches to production accentuating a naturalistic element to what we’re seeing. Peaceful is definitely the way that I would define what cinematographer Lachlan Milne capably articulates, combining these warm color pallets with a consistency of sunrise lens flares that brandishes this ideal American dream paradise that the Yeun’s character grew seduced by. Accommodating this is a majority of still-frame schemes and intimate compositions that vividly draws together the unity and ideals of family struggle amidst a tight-knit proximity, all the while maintaining this soft, glowing exuberance. Milne’s work here is nothing short of intoxicating, and captures the beauty in life that exists without the perks of post-production to artificially influence it.

– Riveting climax. Even though so much takes shape within the first 70 minutes of this picture, Chung saves the most pivotal and meaningful moments for the time it sends audiences home with an affirmation for the movie’s profoundly deeper meaning. This is a third act full of turns, confrontations, and resolutions that all center around this one spontaneous incident that really defines this family for what I feel is for the better, and serves as the culmination between everything mentioned above about the dynamics that shaped every decision and movement along the way. It’s unique how Chung brings all of these combustible elements together to the forefront of the story for one simmering explosion, edited exceptionally between each perspective to convey how this event effects and scales between each respective character. It’s built throughout the entirety of the picture, and pays off in a way that is physically and emotionally on the level that very few drama’s can capture with a limited scope on the characters.

NEGATIVES

– Out of place. While it is great to see Wil Patton again, this time as a religious zealot who assists Yeun’s character on the farming of his land, the inclusion of such a character feels like a direct contradiction of everything previously established. First off, his character doesn’t evolve to anything substantial. This is fine in the element of the spontaneities of life that I previously mentioned, but he’s the only character who could easily be cut from the film, and it would lose nothing in translation. Secondly, he is hired at a time when the family is trying to save money. For Yeun’s character being so hands-on in his dream, as well as their inability to shell away more money, this feels like an unnecessary perk. Finally, his whole inclusion takes away from the isolated loneliness that this family finds themselves in with a new land. Sure, it’s nice to have a friend to prove not everyone is racist garbage, but with this character’s importance amounting to very little in the screenplay, I would’ve preferred he be omitted from the finished product all together.

My Grade: 9/10 or A