Post by stephen on Jan 8, 2021 14:00:21 GMT
As someone who was transplanted to the Deep South as a child based on the whims of my parents who were tired of big-city life and who wanted to try making a go of things in a more rural environment, this film definitely tapped into a wellspring of emotions and memories for me. But like the well that Steven Yeun's Jacob digs, it runs dry quicker than expected. This is a film where you can pretty much chart the beats out just from hearing the general premise, and there's not a whole lot of surprise to it. Not that you need twists or shocking swerves for a movie like this, but familiarity is a heart's beat away from cliche, and it toes that line far more than I'd like it to.
Still, what keeps Minari from falling into the trap of other films about salt-of-the-earth types pulling themselves up by their bootstraps are the performances, which feel so honest as to feel almost documentary-like. The actors in this film, from both the Yi family and those they interact with, are resonant with emotional honesty belied by their simplistic characterization. There's no complexity to them allotted by the script, so the actors have to do the performative equivalent of water-divining of their own: to find the souls of their characters and embody them. And to the credit of them and their director, they largely succeed in that respect.
Yeun is dependable as always, but I found myself more intrigued by Han Ye-ri as his doubtful wife, who wants so very much to believe in her husband's promises of the American dream but who can't quite jibe it with the hardscrabble life Jacob has picked for them. As David, the true focal character, newcomer Alan Kim is a strong presence who isn't afraid to show more than a typical beatific portrayal of child optimism; David can be a right brat at times, and Kim's particularly effective at showcasing that petulance. Noel Kate Cho is unfortunately sidelined far too much for my liking in her portrayal of David's older sister. And for her part, Youn Yuh-jung is a riotous delight as the grandmother. It's the sort of unorthodox portrayal that makes her stand out so readily among the other archetypes; Youn's Soonja deserves an entire film on her own. Interestingly, the film deflects from giving her any major clip-bait moments; if this were a major Hollywood production, you can imagine the treacly hospital bedside sequences that would be mined from what occurs to her, but Chung keeps her at arm's length for much of it, primarily because his focus is on David, who is being shielded from the grim realities of it all by his parents.
In short, I liked Minari but I can't say I loved it. There's an emotional heft to it than is lacking in something like Hillbilly Elegy (though in truth, if you look up the word "lacking" in the dictionary, the poster for that movie is right next to it), but it can't quite get away from feeling somehow slight, especially when you compare it to Nomadland, which takes a similar approach but feels much more vibrant and evocative, and lets us fill in the gaps more easily. Chung's a good director, and his heart is definitely in the right place, but I feel he hasn't yet found his true wellspring.
Still, what keeps Minari from falling into the trap of other films about salt-of-the-earth types pulling themselves up by their bootstraps are the performances, which feel so honest as to feel almost documentary-like. The actors in this film, from both the Yi family and those they interact with, are resonant with emotional honesty belied by their simplistic characterization. There's no complexity to them allotted by the script, so the actors have to do the performative equivalent of water-divining of their own: to find the souls of their characters and embody them. And to the credit of them and their director, they largely succeed in that respect.
Yeun is dependable as always, but I found myself more intrigued by Han Ye-ri as his doubtful wife, who wants so very much to believe in her husband's promises of the American dream but who can't quite jibe it with the hardscrabble life Jacob has picked for them. As David, the true focal character, newcomer Alan Kim is a strong presence who isn't afraid to show more than a typical beatific portrayal of child optimism; David can be a right brat at times, and Kim's particularly effective at showcasing that petulance. Noel Kate Cho is unfortunately sidelined far too much for my liking in her portrayal of David's older sister. And for her part, Youn Yuh-jung is a riotous delight as the grandmother. It's the sort of unorthodox portrayal that makes her stand out so readily among the other archetypes; Youn's Soonja deserves an entire film on her own. Interestingly, the film deflects from giving her any major clip-bait moments; if this were a major Hollywood production, you can imagine the treacly hospital bedside sequences that would be mined from what occurs to her, but Chung keeps her at arm's length for much of it, primarily because his focus is on David, who is being shielded from the grim realities of it all by his parents.
In short, I liked Minari but I can't say I loved it. There's an emotional heft to it than is lacking in something like Hillbilly Elegy (though in truth, if you look up the word "lacking" in the dictionary, the poster for that movie is right next to it), but it can't quite get away from feeling somehow slight, especially when you compare it to Nomadland, which takes a similar approach but feels much more vibrant and evocative, and lets us fill in the gaps more easily. Chung's a good director, and his heart is definitely in the right place, but I feel he hasn't yet found his true wellspring.
