Minari is an emotionally engaging and beautiful film. I had just learned this film existed a few weeks ago but since this film was getting such high praise I went into this with pretty high expectations. This is such a gentle yet emotionally straining film, it’s truly a special experience to watch. The plot is great it’s an entertaining and deeply engaging story. It starts off as a story that has been told before but becomes much much more. The pacing is great from the first scene until the credits role it’s well paced. The acting is great Steven Yeun and Yeri Han give great performances. Yuh-Jung Youn gives a fantastic supporting performance, she is easily one of the best parts of this film. Alan S. Kim and Noel Cho give great child performances as well.

The direction is fantastic from Lee Isaac Chung, his direction is incredibly impressive and you can tell he was very passionate about making this. The script is great it’s a memorable and very well written script. The cinematography is fantastic, this film is full of shots that are so beautiful it’ll make your jaw drop. There is a certain shot where Jacob and Monica are watching the kids playing in the hospital waiting room and the camera focuses back and forth on the two faces. That one shot perfectly captures the story of the characters in less than a minute. The editing is great and the score is great as well.

The comedy is very subtle but when there is comedy it’s wholesomely funny. In terms of the Oscars there’s a strong possibility that this will sadly be overlooked/snubbed. If this did get it’s deserved attention from the academy I feel this would probably get nominated for Best Picture, Best Original Screenplay, Best Cinematography, and Best Supporting Actress: Yuh-Jung Youn. The ending scenes of the film are very emotional and the last shot is just brilliant. Overall Minari is wonderfully wholesome and emotionally engaging film that is truly a special movie.

(9 out 10)

[8.6/10] There are two abiding images in *Minari*. The first is the smoke billowing out of a stack at the hatchery where Jacob and Monica, the parents of a young Korean immigrant family, work. Jacob tells his little son, David, that it’s the male chicks being discarded. When David inquires about what that means and why, Jacob resolutely explains that those male chicks aren’t useful, and this is what the world does to things that aren’t, so they had better keep themselves useful.

It’s a haunting fable for a young father who aspires to be a farmer, moves his family halfway across the country, and struggles to make ends meet. Jacob’s dream is to build something himself, to succeed on his own terms, rather than stare at chicken behinds until he dies. But it’s a hard life, full of backbreaking labor and uncertain prospects for success given the vicissitudes of weather and access to water and other challenges. And it puts a strain on Jacob and Monica’s marriage, particularly when Monica is ready to return to their old life in California rather than brave such hardships with variable, at best, chances for reward.

But it’s also a concerning image for David, a young boy with a heart murmur. Given his condition, his parents discourage him from running or doing much of anything strenuous. His father tells him to use his mind instead, to learn about this world and how to make value with your wits. As the family scrimps and labors, Jacob and Monica working one job during the workday and Jacob slaving away at the farm in his free hours, you can feel them trying to stay ahead of that smoke, to avoid being cast aside or left behind for failing to prove themselves sufficiently useful to this world.

The other abiding image is the titular minari plant. Monica’s mother, referred to as Grandma, brings the seeds from Korea and plants them in a nearby creek with her grandson. She tells David that it can grow anywhere. She reassures him that it’s for rich and poor alike, built to flourish under so many conditions that it’s there for anyone to eat and enjoy.

It feels like a metonym for the Yi family, a Korean family who’ve planted themselves in the wilds of rural Arkansas and find their own way to take root. There is something hearty about the plant, able to grow and sustain itself despite the markedly different conditions from whence it came. For an immigrant family, struggling in places but striving to get by, there is hope in that native plant finding a new home in unfamiliar land and sprouting toward the sky nonetheless.

With those two guiding themes -- the threat of the wafting smoke and the hope of the sprouting herb -- *Minari* is a heartfelt, hilarious, and ultimately poignant story of this relatable family braving its way through a unique situation. Writer and director Lee Isaac Chung uses that pair of images as his lodestone to guide the film’s story, but more than anything, it plays like a slice of life movie. Just witnessing the vignettes of the Yi family adjusting to life in Arkansas (or not adjusting to it), trying to make farm life work, or acclimate the addition of an elder to the immediate family, is worth the price of admission separate and apart from the movie’s larger aims.

It works as a farm movie. Separate and apart from the compelling immigrant story, folks who grew up reading these types of tales of folks trying to make a recalcitrant farm work will recognize the beats, and they’re done with aplomb here. It works as a transplant story, with the bits of cultural exchange we see both within the family and the community it represents, as well as with the Arkansas community they’ve joined. The glimpses of the places where the two intersect are fascinating, measuring differences and similarities in ways both affecting and amusing.

But boy is there amusement to be had when Grandma shows up. The heart of the movie comes in her relationship with David, and the two make for an adorable and uproariously funny pair. There is a forthrightness to both of them that cannot help but simultaneously endear them to the viewer and tickle your funny bone. Grandma will rattle off lines like “You make this kid so much crap,” or “So I drank a little pee! It was fun!” or David will drink a Korean home remedy and say something frank like, “Grandma, never ever bring this again” and it’s impossible not to be charmed by the homespun and hilarious matter-of-factness that becomes the foundation of their friendship.

The growth of that friendship is the strongest element in an already strong movie. At first, David rejects the grandmother who just arrived from Korea for seeming strange and unfamiliar and “not a real grandma.” But as their time together on the farm progresses, she encourages him, she shares their family’s culture with him, she sees his unassuming strength despite his condition, and in the film’s most heart-warming scene, she wraps him up tight to protect him from death or fate or whatever forces would dare do harm to such a sweet little boy.

And in the end, he returns the favor. After a distraught, stroke-debilitated grandmother wanders off, blaming herself for catastrophe, David and Ann stop her. They try to bring her back home, having accepted her as a vital part of that family, loving her no matter what condition she’s in. Whether it was Grandma’s healing prayer, or the country air, or the simple biological processes of the human body, a check-up for David reveals that his condition is getting better, that he is stronger than anyone but Grandma thought, and he uses that strength to chase after her and bring her home.

Such caring is necessary because she accidentally set the family barn ablaze, replete with the fruits and vegetables Jacob had just made a deal to sell to a shop in Oklahoma City. In one accidental conflagration, months of work, piles of debt, burn up into nothing. It’s telling that Jacob runs in, potentially to be consumed by that same black smoke that would mark him as a failure, as something less than useful to be discarded by this world.

And yet, the wife who was (not unreasonably) ready to move on from all of this, runs in to save him. As the smoke grows denser, they call for one another, fulfilling the promise to save each other. Their future is uncertain, but it points toward hope, toward something binding them together beyond the need for good times and financial security to sustain them.

The closing moments of the film see the Yi family huddled on the floor together in the aftermath, as Jacob wanted the night they moved in. It’s a sign of solidarity and family togetherness. And when Jacob and David go to the “Minari Creek” to find the fruits of what Grandma planted, they find the herb has given them something to hold onto nonetheless. Despite this unusual environment far different from the place where these seeds were formed, they persevere and sustain. So too does the Yi family, despite great hardship, survive and maybe even flourish, with one another’s help.

“A broken ding-dong”

‘Minari’ is one of those "slice of life" movies set in 1980’s Arkansas, where a Korean family try to start a farm and make ends meet. This is the type of movie that even though the story is about a Korean immigrant family, you can still draw a deep emotional connection to it.

While the subject matter can have its dramatic elements, but it’s not to say the movie doesn’t have a sense of humor. It’s funny and incredibly endearing to watch. The movie does a great job of making you care about this family and you wish everything would work out for them. All thanks to the amazing script that helps flesh out the characters and made them all complex.

The performances from Steven Yeun, Han Ye-ri, and Youn Yuh-jung were all fantastic. Even from the child actors, Alan S. Kim and Noel Cho, gave great performances, especially during the more dramatic parts of the movie. Just goes to show there are great child actors out there.

The score, composed by Emile Mosseri, was superb and mixed Western and eastern styles to create a uniquely rich score. The movie itself looks so warm and sunny. The bright sun made all the mixture of different colours like green and blue look so luminous, it felt peaceful.

I can tell a story like this came from a personal place from director Lee Isaac Chung. You see, he came from a Korean family and he spend his childhood in Arkansas. The story was told from the heart and it was beautiful to watch.

Overall rating: A touching and heartfelt movie that deserves all the praise it’s getting. If you get the chance, check this one out.

“Minari” is an absolutely beautiful gem of a movie that is delightful on all levels. The highly personal film, written and directed by Lee Isaac Chung, tells the story of a struggling Korean-American family searching for a better life when they move to rural Arkansas from California. Jacob (Steven Yeun) dreams of starting his own farm and selling Korean vegetables to serve the growing immigrant population, while his wife Monica (Yeri Han) quietly internalizes her anxiety. Their two kids (Alan S. Kim, Noel Cho) adapt a bit more quickly, but things are turned upside down when their firecracker of a grandma (Yuh-jung Youn) arrives.

Set in the 1980s, the film depicts a fresh look at the immigrant experience in America, capturing what it must be like to face unfamiliar surroundings while clinging to the promise of a happy future. Jacob has a desire and drive that’s enviable, even if he’s draining the family’s savings with his pie-in-the-sky dreams.

It’s rare that almost all of the best performances of the year are concentrated in one movie, but here we are. The cast is pitch-perfect, from Will Patton‘s supporting role as a religious Korean War veteran to Han’s understated turn as a disappointed wife who is embarrassed to be living in a mobile home in the middle of nowhere. The performances are excellent all around, but Kim and Youn steal the film. All of the actors achieve something to be proud of here. I instantly felt a powerful connection with every character, each of them a person I would gladly root for until the end. I contend that if you aren’t all-in and crossing your fingers for this likeable family’s success, there’s something deeply rotten in your soul.

The narrative explores the highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows with a charming, admirable authenticity and eye-opening insight. The story’s appeal is universal with a hopeful sentiment, even when tragedy strikes.

“Minari” may not escape a few chestnut platitudes (like even when you come close to losing everything, a new day will dawn and things will be brighter because you still have each other), but this comforting underdog story about immigrants with a dream is wrapped in an absolutely beautiful film that’s delightful on all levels.

By: Louisa Moore / SCREEN ZEALOTS

This semi-biopic by **Lee Isaac Chung** is one of the most _authentic_ American films I've seen. Its deliberate and quiet pacing allow the viewers to experience and feel the first year of Jacob's family's struggle in rural Arkansas farmland.

Jacob (**Steven Yeun**) puts everything on the line, taking on debt and working on another job to seek a tiny bit of success and redemption. To cope with seemingly unsurmountable challenges, he turns a blind eye to his family.

His family has sacrificed so much to support Jacob, including maternal grandmother Soonja (**Yuh-jung Youn**) who left the comfort of her home country to live remaining life in isolation to serve her daughter's family.

To me, this film is ultimately about persevering and knowing what matters. All of the cast embodies their character, including young **Alan Kim** and **Noel Kate Cho**. **Ye-ri Han** is an underrated unsung hero, who carries the suffering and pain of her family.

And what can say about **Steven Yeun** and **Yuh-jung Youn**. They just disappear into their role, letting us feel all of their sufferings and tiny moments of joy.

At times, **Minari** can be painful to watch. Many scenes remind me a part of my memory tucked deep inside. But as the film ends, I was overcome with catharsis.