When diverse representation is featured on-screen, it oftentimes comes with strings attached that undermine the message they were trying to send. This can be attributed to the fact that behind-the-screen, the industry primarily does not reflect the breadth of diverse difference that is present in daily life. That’s why when something as powerful and authentic as Minari comes along, it is both incredibly wonderful and needs a large audience to witness it. Written and directed by Lee Isaac Chung, the film is inspired by his own experiences growing up in Arkansas during the 80s with his Korean-immigrant family. It explores the challenges and spirit of the American dream without losing itself in on-the-nose trauma at every plot point. Especially in the wake of BLM and rising hate crimes occurring in Asian-American communities, it's hard not to associate talking about differing racial and cultural experiences under only extremely violent and oppressive conditions. Though vital to discuss the acts of brutality facing marginalized communities, it is just as important to see positive examples in media of said groups that take nuance in reflecting a complex life experience. To put it simply, it is important to see both sides of the coin to inspire hope and provide understanding. Minari does both.
Despite making such an impactful note on its audience, the film is quite intimate with its small cast of characters and limited landscape. Thus, it is hard not to feel so connected in the observance of these characters day to day lives. The camerawork truly embodies the world from the point of view of David, the youngest child and main character. We feel a sense of hope and excitement in every brightly colored shot of the wilderness around him that seems so vast. The low angles and beaming sunlight evoke an unconditional joy and curiosity in discovering this new world from a fresh set of eyes. The acting, too, draws you in further by the realistic and captivating performances each member of the family brings. David, in particular, is played by 7-year-old Alan S. Kim who turns a sometimes bratty protagonist into someone lovable and learning. He is resentful and confused by his Korean heritage, an issue that in media is often relegated to adults to reconcile with but not usually children. However, his hurtful earnestness and slow realization toward empathy with his familial background is a compelling and gradual struggle. It demonstrates a time of inadvertent self-exploration that comes with growing up as a first-generation American and/or a person of color. It is a surprisingly charming and well-thought-out performance for such a challenging yet vital theme to explore.