Several months ago, a trailer emerged for a film called “Minari” about Korean immigrants settling in Arkansas in the 1980s. As the son of Korean immigrants who came of age in the 80s, I watched it, and I felt something unexpected. My wife said to me, “this is what others call an emotion”.
After a delay in the release that was probably pandemic related, the studio behind the film announced virtual screenings beginning on Friday, Feb 12 at 7 PM. The wife and I decided to see if a bunch of Korean Americans who grew up in the 80s might want to gather at Coram Deo for a viewing. Not only did nearly everyone give an overwhelming yes, some canceled their existing Friday night commitments so they could be a part of it. Something about this film clearly touched a nerve in many of us. We went all out- got a bunch of Korean snacks (Pocky), Korean food (kimbap, ramyun, etc), Korean alcohol (soju), and hung up a Korean flag in the main floor of our building to set the mood. Oh, and someone put together a mix of the greatest hits from New Order, Erasure, and Pet Shop Boys to play in the background. We were all transported back to our formative years.
Minari is a beautifully understated film. Because it wasn’t trying too hard to say anything in particular, it was able to say so much — especially to the audience that was watching it with me this past weekend. Minari drops things gently into your mind, and then allows viewers like me to recall our own memories and understanding of what certain vignettes represent. For Jesus following folk like myself- it’s akin to how we want to introduce people to intimacy with God, and then get out of the way so that God can do the work in an individual that only He can. For non-immigrants, I suspect there are aspects of the film that will transcend nationality and ethnicity (after all, the greatest film of all time, The Godfather Trilogy, is also a film about immigrants), but the inside baseball was done in such a satisfying way, and I’m guessing that will be the bulk of the dialogue I have with other Koreans in the coming months. Here are some of the highlights. (Spoilers ahead).
- I often state how my parents’ generation is built differently (tougher) than mine. Minari reminded me of that. The patriarch of the family decides to not only move from Korea to California, but they move from California to literally middle-of-nowhere Arkansas to take on a particularly risky agrarian entrepreneurial endeavor (growing inputs into Korean food). It seems heroic enough when someone decides to move to a foreign land at the request of their employer- often a large corporation. But similar to my parents, to move to another part of the world and to be forced to adjust without the stability of a corporate backstop — I really admire that kind of toughness. Immigrants who came in the 70s and 80s expected a hostile environment — the country wasn’t nearly as woke as it is today, yet they still came and gutted it out. The lead in Minari (Jacob, played by Steven Yeun and best known as the dude from The Walking Dead) captures that spirit while acknowledging the weight of the cost. The wife (Monica) doesn’t want to be there, and Jacob knows that he could literally lose his family if things don’t work out.
- I quite appreciated how they portrayed the Arkansas townspeople. My understanding is that the film is somewhat biographical to the director (Lee Isaac Chung), but White Evangelicals locals — that scourge to the coastal elites — are given a fair hearing. Of course there is subtle and not-so subtle racism — Jacob’s son David is asked by a kid in church “Why is your face so flat?” But by and large, the townspeople and folks they meet at church are kind and well-meaning. As a good friend of mine who is as gifted as anyone I know in handling racial dynamics might say, “some are venal, but most are just humbly ignorant.” The closest thing to an American friend that Jacob has is Paul, impeccably played by Will Patton. Paul is a charismatic believer who prays over everything, thinks there’s a demon behind everything that isn’t working, and literally carries a cross every Sunday down the street while being heckled by the local teenagers. But he is faithful and devoted as employee #1 to Jacob’s modest enterprise, and for me at least, is an accurate depiction of a certain group of folks that Hillary Clinton labeled “deplorables”.
- Building on that point above, the struggles that Jacob faces in his enterprise come from his own kind, not the dominant culture. His main buyer (a fellow Korean businessman) decides last minute to back out on a large purchase order. Jacob is therefore stuck with a barn full of crops and no one to buy it. It reminded me of how my father said that Korean immigrants are always destroying their own. What he meant by this is that when someone sets up a laundromat or grocery store on a corner somewhere, rather than allowing that person to have some success and opening up a couple miles down the road, another Korean will open up a competing establishment on the opposite corner. According to my dad, other nationalities are not like (have no idea if this is true or not)
- One thing about the film that is not understated is the grandmother (Soon Ja, played by Youn Yuh-jung). Picture a Korean version of the Dowager Countess in the Downton Abbey series. Soon Ja is sharp, unfiltered, energetic, and sassy. I guess she kind of reminds me of my mom. I often say that my mom made other “Tiger Moms” look like harmless house cats. At least that’s how she was to me and my sisters. However, she has mellowed out and of course treats my son the way grandmothers treat their grandchildren. The scene where she tries to advocate on behalf of David as he is being punished for giving his grandmother a bowl of urine to drink instead of Mountain Dew (“What’s wrong with drinking a little piss?”) captures it perfectly.
- There’s a lot of inside baseball, but the one I liked best was the deer antler soup. I doubt that any of my non-Asian friends would have a clue what this is, but my parents would make me an absolutely rancid herbal medicine drink out of deer horns. I would do anything to avoid drinking it, but my parents convinced me that if I drank it every couple days as a child, I would grow up to be indestructibly strong. Thanks mom, for forcing me to do that.
Sixteen of us (14 adults, and 2 teenage progeny of one of the couples) sat and discussed the movie for an hour afterwards. It was an absolutely delightful way to process two hours very well spent. We wondered how our Black/Brown/White friends would experience the film. We pondered whether it would be a good idea to watch this with our parents. Noticing what others noticed in the film reminded me of the interesting bond that is present between all of us who grew up under these circumstances. I suspect there will be similar screenings and conversations happening all around the country in the coming weeks and months. I would do it again with a different group of Korean Americans immigrants to feel that kind of “jung” again.
*jung is a Korean term that describes a certain closeness, affection and connection.
