Minari: A Meditation on Migration, Family, and the American Dream
Minari is in essence the family portrait of a South Korean family of immigrants moving from California to the rural United States (specifically Arkansas) in the 1980s. It’s hardly a universal picture– of choosing to move to rural white Arkansas for farming after already moving from South Korea to California. But it’s not an entirely uncommon one, and indeed the film itself is a semi autobiographical take on writer and director Lee Issac Chung’s own upbringing. More importantly, Minari manages to tell the important narrative that all Asian-Americans across the borders and barriers of land and time know too well; leaving everything behind for the so-called “American dream” and wondering time and time again if it’s worth it.
Culture clashes in this film over and over again, particularly evoked between Jacob and Monica Yi. Their tensions soar over their children, shared goals, living situation, all inciting the idea of independence vs assimilation. Jacob clearly has fallen in love with the mythos of the American dream posturing as a prototypical white American farmer, overalls and cap with a cigarette hung loose from his lips and terse speech sprinkled over the crops he struggles to make survive.
While the crops he is planting are exclusively Korean, a (white) American lilt infects his every action and inflection, leaving both Monica and the audience to wonder if anything will truly bloom for them in the Arkansas soil.
Further compounding Monica’s worries are her son David’s heart condition, which constantly threatens his life (and the family’s collective future) with every palpitation and spike. As Monica and Jacob clash over their main work (sexing chickens at the local hatchery), as well as questions of how to raise their children and navigate their culture (should they join a church? should they move to the city so as to be around more Korean people?), they reach a compromise by getting Monica's mother Soon-ja to travel from South Korea to help watch the children. Monica weeps upon her mother’s entrance, finally feeling like she has a piece of home with her.
However, David reacts poorly to his grandmother, citing the fact she is nothing like what he believes a grandmother should be, baking cookies and never swearing while his grandmother teaches him how to gamble and how to swear in Korean. Furthermore, while Soon-Ja is a respite for Monica, she is still deeply troubled by what she views as her family’s uprooting. Additional troubles continue to plague the Yi family. The well that Jacob digs (without the help of anyone despite warnings) runs dry. David and Anne face flippant racism at the church their family eventually joins– though David very quickly becomes friends with the very boy who slings slurs at him, and Anne makes her own friends rapidly. As Monica and Jacob continue to clash and drift apart, Soon-ja takes David to the creek to plant minari seeds.
While the creek is further than David is supposed to be from the farm and house, Soon-ja encourages him to do more physical activity despite his heart condition, saying he is stronger than his parents think. As they plant the seeds side by side, she gazes upon David and remarks how useful and resilient minari is, and predicts it will grow plentifully and flourish. David, sensing her true meaning, begins to warm to his grandma especially as she takes care of him and encourages him further with games and tending to the injuries he sustains in a small accident.
Overnight however, Soon-ja suffers a stroke. While she survives, her movement and speech become stilted.
Leaving Soon-ja at home, the Yi family head to Oklahoma City for David’s heart appointment, though Jacob makes use of the outing to bring vegetables to try to sell to a vendor. While both ventures go successfully and it’s revealed David’s heart condition has vastly improved, it’s clear that Jacob prioritizes his crops over his family. He admits as much to Monica indirectly, and after a terse argument, the two agree to separate.
However, in their absence, Soon-ja accidentally sets fire to the barn when she attempts to help the family and burn trash (a practice Anne remarks upon ruefully as a rural invention they’ve never had to do before).
Jacob, with Monica, watches his American dream quite literally go up in flames. They rush into the barn to save the crops, but the fire proves to be too large and quick for them. Afraid of being consumed by the flames, Jacob and Monica decide to save each other instead, leaving the barn and everything in it to burn. As they recover, a distraught and disoriented Soon-ja wanders off into the distance, only noticed by Anne and David. They call out to her, but Soon-ja appears unable to hear or respond, and continues to walk. At a loss, David begins to run after her, and blocks her path. Seeming to recognize David for a split second, Soon-ja allows David to guide her back home. Exhausted by the whole ordeal, both the parents and children collapse on the floor of their mobile home while Soon-ja watches over them.
Some time later, Jacob finally works with a water diviner to find a spot for a well. He and Monica mark a spot with a stone, signifying they will stay and try to make the farm (and dream) work once again. Jacob and David then head to the creek to harvest the minari, which has indeed flourished. Jacob remarks how good the spot Soon-ja picked is, and how well the minari has grown on its own. The film ends with Jacob and David picking the one plant that has survived and flourished.
The film is named Minari for a reason– the planting of minari and how it flourishes in rough soil echoes the narrative of many immigrants including the Yi family, uprooted from their home and transplanted into unknown territory. The chance to flourish is the American dream, but if everything goes up in flames, is trying to bloom worth it? It’s deeply telling that Jacob struggles to plant and harvest crops in soil he doesn’t understand. In the end, Minari tells us that as Asian-Americans and immigrants, the shallowest soil can still be a rich place to grow.