My Thoughts on Minari

Lee Isaac Chung's Minari has been attracting heavy praise since its premiere at Sundance last year, and somewhat unsurprisingly, it's become a massive hit on the awards circuit. Most contentiously, it won Best Foreign Language Film at this year's Golden Globes, which is slightly ridiculous, because this is explicitly a film about an immigrant family's pursuit of the American dream, and goes on to suggest that the essence of America is the multitude of cultural specificities that the country is composed of. It is absolutely an American film, and the notion that stories about POC don't belong in that category is frankly ludicrous. Minari tells the story of the Yi family as they travel to rural Arkansas in the early 80s in search of a new life. From there, the film eases into the poetry of the everyday, as father Jacob tends to his land, kids David and Anne adjust to their new life, and grandmother Soon-ja is flown in to lighten the load

Minari is a film about small routines, little gestures that build into larger payoffs. Farming, parenting and assimilation are all large commitments that take effort and patience to yield successful results, and Chung revels in these processes. The film is light enough to weave tones together in a way that never risks losing consistency; it flirts with natural comedy, deeper drama and the earnest rhythms of life that translate perfectly onscreen. It's a careful blend established early on, something that allows the film to ease closer and closer into the huge emotional insights it doles out in the third act. Like a great farmer, Chung knows that good things take time

The film has an organic, observational structure, almost like the audience has stumbled across this story by accident. This is bolstered by the cast, who present themselves in such an organic, natural way. It's like watching a real family onscreen, but standing back and looking beyond the illusion proves valuable as a way of seeing just how much effort each member of the cast has put into making it look so seamless. It's a perfect recreation of life, and it's on top of such a believable foundation that they're able to construct a portrait of the American dream that never feels anything less than true. Special mention to Alan Kim, whose performance conveys a level of depth and eloquence that marks the arrival of a hugely exciting screen presence that I can't wait to see more of

The film excels in moments of specificity, and the huge notes of truth and emotion in the third act just wouldn't be possible if Chung hadn't sowed the seeds early on. So much of Minari is rooted in his own upbringing, and he translates so many little nuggets of everyday magic that feel specifically his. The result of this is pure cinema, not diluted or compromised by an attempt to capture anything other than his own experience. It finds great universality in doing this, and the film ensures that the viewer is absolutely invested from the start. Stories like this matter, in society and in cinema. Especially after a year where so much of the conversation has been about blockbusters, about when No Time to Die is going to be released, or if Black Widow is going to drop on Disney+. Those films have their place but Minari strikes gold by skewing smaller, by delivering earnest, intelligent cinema at a time where it couldn't feel more needed. It's warm, lovingly crafted and massively valuable. It becomes a masterpiece through its quiet moments, and although its insights are delicate, they're no less impactful for it, and their effect is bound to be felt in the decades to come

★ ★ ★ ★ ★