Minari

Minari tells you within its first five minutes that you’re going to see something special. You think it’s going to be a story about one thing, then it’s not, but then it is again, and then it’s something completely different. It’s more than just a family story, and it’s certainly more than just an immigrant story. It takes such specific and calculated steps but ends up being possibly one of the most universal and accessible films I have ever been able to see in my life. There are so many words I can use to describe Minari: tender, hopeful, heart-breaking, heart-warming, intimate, quiet, mesmerizing, sweet, etc. Of all those words, the one I would use first, is simply honest. It’s about as true to life as you can possibly get, and like I said, you understand you’re watching something great within the first 5 minutes not because you’ve been told Minari is great, but because you instantly feel the sincerity and vulnerability oozing out of the film. It’s such an open and quite scary experience to make a film, to show the world a story and part of you that has shaped who you are as a person to do. It’s an ultimate act of being vulnerable. Lee Isaac Chung offers his hand out to you, hoping you’ll accept, and if you choose to, he guides you on such a raw, emotional and genuine experiences you can have. That piece of the score, you obviously know the one I’m talking about, damn is it good. The entire score is great, but that bit will just awaken something in you that didn’t even know had resided there. The grandma telling David his ding dong is broken though is DIABOLICAL.