Minari
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I moved to the States with my parents from China when I was four years old. Each scene from the movie felt like a piece of my own lived experiences. Watching the scenes of Minari made me feel very nostalgic and reminiscent of the days growing up.
When the family thought “Mountain Dew” literally meant healthy water from the mountains, I thought of the times when my family bought Capri Sun from Walmart thinking it’s healthy (and also because it was cheaper compared to refrigerated juice) and because the white kids always brought this in their school lunch boxes.
When the dad smokes outside to think about how he can turn his business around, it felt like a replica of the evenings I saw my dad smoking on the balcony to figure out how to make ends meet.
When the grandma brings chili powder, anchovies, and other cooking ingredients from Korea, and the mom tears up because of how difficult these ingredients are to find in the US. I thought about the 4 hour round trips my family would make on a weekly basis from our rural town in CT to visit the Chinese supermarkets in Queens, NY.
When the mom and dad get into a heated argument about money that almost led to their divorce, I think about all the money arguments and fights my parents had, and their eventual separation because of financial problems. This family resembled my family not only as immigrants, but also in terms of class and education level and that made the connection feel even deeper.
I cried in the final scenes, when Soonja the grandma, the character who has been the emotional anchor for the family, gets a stroke and lies in bed. It made me think a lot about the inevitability of sickness in life. When she finally recovers her ability to walk, she accidentally sets the family’s barn on fire. She feels such a sense of shame that she runs away. The grandson, despite his heart condition and many disagreements with Soonja, runs to bring back his grandma. In the face of dire situations, the family will always be the rock grounding you. Reminds me of what my dad often says in Chinese, “There’s only a few people we have in the United States, we gotta take care of each other.”
Minari made me think about home not just as a physical, but also as an emotional and cultural anchor. Home brought a sense of groundedness and safety in a foreign land. Home is where I watched my Chinese TV, ate Chinese food, spoke the Chinese language. On the other hand, home also created a sense of confusion. Home, in some ways, felt like a “foreign land” in the midst of navigating a foreign land. At the time, the two spaces felt mutually exclusive because of the language and cultural barriers.
Watching the hardships the family in Minari went through made me feel very grateful towards my parents. They rebuilt their life in a place where they couldn’t speak the language and made the most of what they had. I realized that I actually learned a lot from them growing up, their resilience, scrappiness, and hardworking attitude, and these are values I also cherish most about myself.