Pachinko Has Mastered the Game

As a child of immigrants myself, watching Pachinko feels like diving headfirst into the tumultuous waters of my family history. The show masterfully captures the struggles and resilience of the Korean diaspora, weaving together a tapestry of stories that resonate deeply with me.

In the intricate and expansive Apple TV+ series, ‘Pachinko’, spanning multiple generations and decades, one’s life seems hardly self-determined. This is somewhat ironic given that pachinko is a game of chance where personal control is limited to whether or not to play. However, the narrative of Pachinko presents numerous forces shaping its characters’ lives – family, history, war, culture, capitalism, nationalism, debt, love, faith – which make true independence elusive, suggesting that even in the face of overwhelming circumstances, one must learn to navigate and endure. The question of winning or losing becomes secondary; what matters, Pachinko suggests subtly but persistently in its strongest moments, is how these experiences contribute to living.

Soo Hugh’s television adaptation of Min Jin Lee’s 2017 novel, titled “Pachinko,” meticulously portrays the progression of time and showcases intricate details that highlight societal changes through cinematography and set design. This series goes beyond being simply a tale of a Korean family in Japan; it explores the complex relationships between characters like steely matriarch Kim Sunja (played by Yuh-jung Youn in the 1989 storyline, Minha Kim in the 1930s and now 1940s) and her Yale-educated grandson Solomon (Jin Ha).

Similar to the previous season, Pachinko juggles events from both the distant and recent pasts. In 1989, mere months have elapsed since Solomon was dismissed following a change of heart on his last major assignment – persuading an elderly Korean woman to sell her now-profitable land for a hotel construction by one of his company’s clients. After standing up for the woman, Solomon’s reputation suffered, and he struggles to secure funding for his new investment fund due to powerful adversaries. The novel poignantly expresses Solomon’s emotional turmoil through unusual signs such as his unkempt beard, overcooked noodles, and an outburst in a grocery store due to racial prejudice. When his father, Mozasu (Soji Arai), and grandmother Sunja propose an investment, Solomon interprets it as evidence of his own perceived shortcomings in assimilation and success.

In a flashback sequence set seven years earlier, it’s now 1945. Japan is deep into World War II, with propaganda echoing through radio broadcasts and the yakuza, such as Koh Hansu (Lee Minho), who fathered Sunja’s eldest son Noa, growing wealthier and more powerful due to their control over black markets. Lower-class Korean residents like Sunja, her sons Noa (Kang Hoon Kim as a young teen, Tae Ju Kang as an older teen), Mozasu (Eunseong Kwon as a child, Mansaku Takada as a teen), and her sister-in-law Kyunghee (Eunchae Jung), are affected materially by the war. With Sunja’s husband Isak (Steve Sanghyun Noh) in prison for anti-patriotic activities, and Kyunghee’s husband Yoseb (Junwoo Han) forced to work in a Nagasaki munitions factory, the family of women and boys are left to fend for themselves amidst reduced food supplies, increased desperation, and the looming threat of American invasion. However, when Hansu reappears in their lives, Sunja must confront the possibility of revealing Noa’s true paternity, even though she fears the social ostracism that might follow. But what other choice does she have?

The second season of Pachinko is brimming with negotiations, as characters grapple with seemingly insurmountable predicaments while striving to preserve a modicum of self-respect. The show manages to keep the narrative personal by tying significant historical events to these negotiations. Solomon’s escalating rivalry with his colleague Naomi (Anna Sawai) mirrors Japan’s expanding economic bubble, while Changho Kim’s (Sungkyu Kim) growing attachment to Kyunghee symbolizes his longing for their native land, a desire he might act upon when North and South Korea go to war. A striking scene where Kyunghee listens in bed as Kim eats an Asian pear she left for him is surprisingly sensual. Regrettably, this season seems to provide more depth to its male characters; a pattern connects the self-destructive aspirations of Hansu, Noa, and Solomon, whereas Sunja and Kyunghee are primarily shown performing household chores and fretting. However, the most nuanced and revealing relationship in the series is between Sunja and Hansu, who Pachinko suggests embody traditional values versus modernity, sentimentality against pragmatism – themes that Kim and Lee portray with remarkable subtlety and authenticity.

Although Lee consistently pulls off turtlenecks in a way that’s hard not to find attractive, their relationship, as portrayed by the actors, isn’t necessarily romantic; although Hansu’s controlling traits have been toned down from the book, they are still noticeable. However, the actors’ portrayal of their characters creates a familiar dynamic that makes every interaction, whether it’s a disagreement or an emotional moment, compelling and hard to ignore, much like the stunning visuals in the series: a train’s headlight shining bright red against the black night, women planting rice in neat rows, and a powerful black-and-white short film set in Yoseb’s factory. The show, “Pachinko”, skillfully uses its entire screen space to immerse us in the setting, and then through its smooth transitions and editing techniques, it underscores the fluidity of our memories.

In a less successful manner, this season tends to lean on manipulation by excessively using montage sequences and musical cues to guide our emotions according to the creators’ intentions. However, with its powerful writing, acting, and framing, the show manages to evoke intense feelings of the devastating impact of an American bomb attack, the profound sorrow of a parent who has lost a child, the triumphant satisfaction of watching an adversary fall, and the nauseating guilt that comes from knowing one’s own role in their downfall. In essence, Pachinko doesn’t require any underhanded tactics because its inherent strengths are more than enough to secure its success.

2024-08-23 17:54

Pachinko Has Mastered the Game

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