Photo courtesy of Los Angeles Times
Steven Yeun made history in 2021 by being the first Asian American Oscar nominee for Best Actor for his role as Jacob in the film “Minari.” This is not the beginning of the “Minari” award show recognition; it has been nominated for five other Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Supporting Actress, Best Original Score, Best Director and Best Original Screenplay. The movie also won Best Foreign Language Film at the Golden Globes, and Alan Kim, who played David, won the Critiques’ Choice Award for Best Young Performer.
The critical acclaim is more than deserved. The movie shows audiences the most vulnerable parts of its characters, allowing them to step in their shoes and see themselves as each character. Thematically, “Minari” shows the experience of being a Korean immigrant in America, of being a child and pursuing dreams in spite of the potential cost. Each frame appears like an intricate photo, and the score helps further immerse the audience into the environment.
The film is about Korean Americans’ experience farming and living in rural Alabama in the 1980s and speaks to the universal wish to do good for those we love. In a period where physical closeness is hard to come by and relationships are strained by distance and a pandemic, “Minari” shows audiences the importance of family, whatever that may mean to someone.
That’s not to say there isn’t conflict within the movie. The plot propels its way through conflict and trauma. There are multiple scenes where tears will – and should – be shed. However, through the conflict and the moments at which it may seem the family may fall apart, they always have each other to fall back on.
It is primarily through the intricacies of character development and relationships that “Minari” accomplishes this. In a family or any group of close people, in fact, no two relationships are similar. Dynamics change based on who is present in each scene and the emotions they are expressing. There is a three-dimensional view of each character.
They all must work on the big and the little things in life, one of the most obvious being their experience as a Korean family in America. In a scene where the family first attends church, they all experience various microaggressions and uncomfortable questions from the white people who attend the church.
Also, although David is the youngest child and coddled the most, each family member explores different aspects of their own childishness. Whether this is expressed in the relief Monica feels when she sees her mother again, or their grandmother’s love for Mountain Dew, there is an appreciation for the fact that the child within everyone never fully goes away.
The movie also reminds the audience of their own inner child. With much of the film shot from David’s perspective, the audience can feel how he and his sister Anne feel as kids. Audiences follow them through the flurry of writing notes in crayon to ask their parents to stop fighting, and the shots from the backseat of Jacob and Monica discussing David’s heart condition. The anxiety of dreading parents’ anger and the excitement of sleepovers all come back to the forefront of the brain through the story of “Minari.”
The plot progresses purposefully. As an audience member, though, this purpose is subtle and unexpected until it is fulfilled in the final moments of the movie. These authentic and mundane interactions between family members converge and lead to a natural climax, fall and resolution. All the while, each scene adds up to remains hidden under the viewer’s nose.
“Minari” masters the beauty of subtlety. Audiences do not simply watch the film but exist within the narrative as well. It is so easy to connect with; the score, visuals, emotions and characters all pull you in until the one hour and fifty-six-minute run time is complete, and you are a better person for it.
