Steven Yeun, Yuh-jung Youn, Alan S. Kim, Noel Cho, and Yeri Han in Minari (Madman Entertainment)

Recently, there has been a raft of films portraying the hardships of farmers trying to make a living off the land. A disproportionate number of these have come from France, including the similarly based-on-family-experience In The Name Of The Land (Édouard Bergeon, 2019), which, for all its virtues, was a depressing account of a string of tragic events that beset the director’s farming family when he was a child.  

Minari, however, has more on its mind than just conveying the perils of farm life. The real problem here is the difference in agendas between husband and wife. Jacob is steadfastly focused on establishing his farm and gaining a foothold in the market with his produce, while Monica has a long list of concerns, the most immediate being their seven-year-old son David (Alan Kim), whose heart condition makes their remote location seem all the more perilous. For her, this and other issues, such as the lack of social interaction and home comforts, are sacrifices being made in vain, given the likelihood that Jacob’s dream is doomed to failure.

The antagonism between Jacob and Monica is compounded when Monica’s mother Soonja (a scene-stealing Yuh-Jung Youn) arrives from South Korea to live with them.

Tellingly, the only sign of racism in the film doesn’t come from any of the Arkansas locals. The Korean family has no issues assimilating into what little social fabric there is in their region. Furthermore, their religion is a non-issue. Monica is keen to attend the nearest church, where the family is warmly welcomed. The single anti-Korean sentiment comes from young David, who has already been Americanised enough that his grandmother, whom he hadn’t met before, represents an unpleasantly foreign presence.  

It is through David that we see much of the film; he is effectively the embodiment of director Chung’s childhood. The film derives its authenticity through the minutiae of daily life, presented on screen at times through David’s eyes. For a seven-year-old boy, few things are as important as food. David has a fondness for American products like Mountain Dew. When his grandmother replaces it with a traditional Korean herbal tea, he becomes even more suspicious.

The work of Australian cinematographer Lachlan Milne enhances the child’s perspective, with the low, roving camera in exterior scenes recalling the work of Terrence Malick. Elsewhere, Milne’s lens is trained on the characters and their daily activities. The preparation of Korean food in particular is treated with loving intimacy.

Even the film’s title is a nod to Korean food. Minari is a quintessentially Asian herb, posited in the film as a symbol of resilience. This is a fitting metaphor: for all the specificity the film warmly embraces, the overarching theme is one of familial responsibility. That Jacob and Monica have such disparate ways of honouring their obligations is what gives Minari its dramatic tension. Director Chung honours the characters by depicting them as complex people, flawed but decent and affectionate.

Alan S. Kim, Steven Yeun, Noel Cho, and Yeri Han in Minari (2020)

Having garnered many international awards for his sleekly seductive turn in Burning (2018), Yeun’s transformation in Minari is remarkable. It’s a deeply internalised performance. We watch the optimistic glint in Jacob’s eyes gradually fade as the continual conflict with Monica takes its toll.

In the much flashier role of the grandmother, Youn is a delight. At once charming and impish, her presence is a source of tension, warmth, and humour. Her performance is all the more impressive given that she shares many of her scenes with the novice Kim, who in his film acting début wins us over through sheer natural charisma rather than any kind of trained technique. The interplay between grandmother and grandson, which veers from wariness to playfulness, encapsulates why Minari is so captivating.

Helping balance the tonal palette is Emile Mosseri’s lyrical piano score, which contributes both lightness and quiet melancholy.

In this homage to his family, it isn’t just the little details Chung includes that provide authenticity. Many of the film’s more sweeping images come directly from his childhood memories. Not to say that Minari is the recollection of Chung’s childhood. This is a work of fiction built around memories. In terms of storytelling, Chung says he was influenced by the writings of Flannery O’Connor and has also credited inspiration from a Willa Cather quote: ‘Life began for me when I stopped admiring and started remembering.’

By remaining true to his memories, Chung, in his fourth feature film, has truly arrived as a filmmaker of major significance.

Minari (Madman Entertainment), 115 minutes, directed by Lee Isaac Chung. In cinemas 18 February 2021.