Apple TV Plus’ Pachinko is an immersive, poignant, must-see journey
Anchored by exceptional performances and cinematography, Pachinko is a momentous multigenerational drama
TV Reviews Pachinko
Let’s get this out of the way: Pachinko is an extraordinary drama. Based on Min Jin Lee’s 2017 novel of the same name, it masterfully weaves the intricate tapestry of a Korean family with an expansive scope, spanning different cities, languages, and generations. The show is at once an educational, sweeping saga (about culture, history, politics, romance, and lineage), and a pointed story about its protagonist, Sunja, and her loved ones at various times in their lives. As such, it’s brimming with ideas, and conveys them really well.
Sunja first shows up as a resourceful 8-year-old (Jeon Yu-Na) residing on a small fishing island near Busan in 1920s Korea, then occupied by Japan and rife with militant rule and racism. As a young adult (played by Minha Kim), she helps her mother run a boarding house. After getting caught up in a reckless love affair, Sunja moves to Osaka amidst political turmoil and indigence. The story then goes back-and-forth between her early attempts to assimilate, and an older Sunja (Minari’s Youn Yuh-Jung) in 1989, now living comfortably in Japan with her son Baek Mozasu (Soji Arai).
So Pachinko takes place primarily in two Asian countries during highly combative times, with the dialogue in Korean and Japanese (helpfully subtitled in yellow and blue, respectively). Yet there’s an unwavering universal resonance with the show’s—and its source material’s—exploration of freedom and identity. Pachinko is timeless in how it grapples with the complexities of immigration during very specific times, and the writing accurately captures the longing for—and meaning of—home.
In the 1989 portion, Sunja’s workaholic grandson Solomon Baek (Jin Ha) arrives from the U.S. to secure a critical deal for his bank and land a VP promotion. The show switches to his point-of-view at times; it’s one that Stateside viewers are probably most familiar with. Having established a successful career in New York City, Solomon has a conflicted relationship with Japan (where he was raised) and Korea (his ancestral country). Thankfully, the transition between all these perspectives is seamless and never tedious.
The timeline-hopping differs from the book’s effective chronological structure, but the choice leads to some stunning visual rewards. In episode four, for instance, Sunja bids her mother and friends a tearful goodbye while leaving Busan on (literally) choppy waters, not knowing if she’ll ever see them again. The scene cuts to a wistful Sunja decades later at the airport, finally visiting her homeland with her son Mozasu.
Mozasu owns a parlor for pachinko—a popular game commonly found in Japanese arcades—whose players rely on luck to win. The game is an intriguing motif, and serendipity factors into the show in wonderful ways. Chance encounters and subsequent prudent decisions have altered Sunja’s course, whether it’s how she meets and marries Protestant minister Baek Isak (Steve Sanghyun Noh), or her judicious use of an expensive watch gifted to her by her former lover.
The parlor is the setting for Pachinko’s electrifying opening credits, which even outdo Peacemaker in the fun department, so skipping the intro here is not an option. During it, snapshots of the countries’ tragedies appear, only to be followed by the cast freely dancing to The Grass Roots’ “Let’s Live For Today.” It’s a moving depiction of endurance, and no one in the show encapsulates this feeling more than Kim’s take on Sunja.
She’s Pachinko’s linchpin. All three actors are up to the task to evolve the character, from a promising child actor to a soulful Oscar winner. But Kim’s version is the standout. A relative newcomer, she has to carry Sunja’s toughest years. She instantly embodies the character’s naiveté and gradually molds her into an unbreakable force of nature. Every expression—a painful sob, a longing look, a moment of pride—is transfixing and all too real.
The remaining ensemble is compelling, too, especially Jeong In-Ji, who gives an emotional, natural turn as Sunja’s mother, Yangjin. Ha also brings nuance to Solomon despite his journey slowing down Pachinko’s pace in the second half. The whole bank deal situation does drag out, ever-so-slightly marring the show’s overall triumph. But his story leads to Pachinko’s most heart-rending scenes: a sincere conversation between Youn’s Sunja and his potential client, another Korean immigrant, about the struggle to move on from their hardships. (Fair warning to keep tissues handy; the tears will flow).
Lee Min-Ho, known for being an endearing romantic lead, is exceptional as the antihero Koh Hansu, a wealthy fish broker with ties to the Japanese crime world. His entanglement with teenage Sunja upends her life. Lee’s scattered appearances build up to episode seven, which is entirely about his own tragic upbringing. (The hour’s contents are a departure from the book and shed a light on the devastating 1923 Kanto earthquake.)
The production design and cinematography are just as key to Pachinko, as the characters travel from boardrooms to narrow cobbled lanes, scenic islands to big cities, and devastation to solace. Kogonoda and Justin Chon’s direction elevates the script. Through their eyes, even something as simple as white rice holds court onscreen, whether it’s Yangjin preparing it as a final luxurious meal before her daughter leaves or Youn’s Sunja recognizing the nutty taste of her homeland’s staple, now easily available food.
Only three months into 2022, it’s hard not to proclaim Pachinko as one of the best new shows of the year, or years even. Luckily, season one hasn’t covered the entirety of the novel, leaving room for plenty more to uncover in any future installments. Here’s hoping. Because it would be something of a travesty if a multigenerational story this exceptional didn’t get a second shot.
20 Comments
I really adore this book, so this is one of those cases where I’m a little reluctant to see a version different from whatever was in my head, which was more quiet than epic. I’ve been pleasantly surprised before as with Never Let Me Go, and the reviews definitely make this tempting. Plus, I really like Kogonada. Justin Chon’s work seems to be a mixed bag (I did really like Gook, but I heard Blue Bayou is a disaster), but I’m glad to read that this one was successful.
I think you’ll be happily surprised. The show is epic, yes, but it also feels quiet/sublime. A great balance of both!
Nice to be reminded how good the movie adaptation of Never Let Me Go is
a popular game commonly found Japanese arcades
That should be “found in”.
indeed. & now it is, thank you!
I cannot wait for this to be released. The novel was beautiful and immersive. Hopefully the show can stand on its own.
Thanks Saloni, this is a very helpful review.Hopefully without being too snarky, I want to highlight this review as an example of actual TV/film criticism and not just cultural criticism, which I feel of late has become the laziest type of critique.The Pachinko review covers a lot: cinematography, performances, pacing. It attempts to capture the feel of the show for people who are wondering if they would like it. I appreciate that.I appreciate less the multiple AVC film reviews recently that are wholly unconcerned with the craft of filmmaking. Instead they focus almost entirely on the extent to which the movie’s plot, characters and dialogue amounted to a positive representation of a given cultural identity. They do so little to evaluate the films as films that it’s frankly bizarre to see a letter grade attached to them.What’s more, these reviews don’t even achieve what they set out to do especially effectively. They don’t persuade anyone of anything they didn’t already believe. This is what irritates me about a lot of critical writing these days. It’s not any specific set of political/social beliefs, it’s the way some writers treat their personal beliefs and opinions as fact, as a given.
For the TV/film critic who thinks this way, it must follow that they see films and shows that contradict their beliefs as transgressing, as breaking the rules, as opposed to being just one more form of artistic expression. Maybe it’s learned behavior; avoiding backlash from readers who feel as strongly. The fact remai- I believe this is a terrible way to write persuasively! Assuming, of course, that this is the goal.It does nothing to change minds, just prompts sage nods from the people who already agree. Maybe that’s enough for this site, but it ought not be enough for anyone.EDIT: Sorry, I don’t mean to be cryptic. I’m referring above to the reviews for Umma and Turning Red.
Man, you should be glad Sonia doesn’t do reviews anymore.
I’ve been excited about this but trying to not get too excited so as to not have impossibly high expectations, I’m glad to hear it’s good. Really curious as to how they play with the chronology and what they cover if it’s only part of the story (makes sense since it’s a very long book). Now to decide whether to watch it as it comes out or wait to restart my Apple TV subscription until most of the episodes have dropped. TV Club coverage of the episodes might help sway me…Also, damn, March 2022 is really the month for media examining (East) Asian/Asian-American family dynamics. I love it.
Hmm, sounds like I need to check out the book
Definitely do. It’s incredible.
To me it sounds like the show may well be better than the book (which I thought was ok).
Pachinko the game is a fascinating cultural phenomenon which is basically a widely accepted way of subverting Japan’s anti-gambling laws, and a bigger industry than all US casinos combined.
And it’s noisy as hell. We have one of these things in our house, and I have forbidden anyone to use it. It’s so. Damn. Loud.
And it’s noisy as hell. We have one of these things in our house, and I have forbidden anyone to use it. It’s so. Damn. Loud.Yup. I went into one of those Pachinko places when I was in Japan years ago and I lasted all of a half a minute because the sound just shredded my brain. How anyone could work in one of those places without going insane is beyond me.
Within the first 5 minutes of the first episode I was hooked. I like that they color coded the Japanese and Korean subtitles so you could see how some Japanese words made their way into the Korean vernacular.Apple + was slow out of the gates with their original content, but between this show, Severance, and The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey, I decided to keep my subscription.
Also, why aren’t more people talkng about Severance, and The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey? Both great shows.
I haven’t watched Ptolemy Grey yet but am loving Severance – it’s so so much better than I thought it would be based on the trailer. And I feel like I agree – after a slow start, Apple is getting there; The Morning Show was terrible but sort of trashily enjoyable (at least until the second half of the atrocious second season) but I wholeheartedly enjoyed both For All Mankind and Foundation (for all its flaws, many of which are present in Asimov’s books). And I’m really looking forward to watching this! One blessing of the streaming era: more international TV content available in the US. Perhaps finally Americans will learn to get used to subtitles?
Yeah, the Severance team really know how to setup a cliffhanger so you can’t wait for next weeks episode. The premise is simple on the surface, but the more you think about the ramifications of it, the darker it gets. Not since Parasite has a mainstream show or movie captured the slow crawl to dehumanizing workers. Also, Turturro and Walken’s characters story line, beautiful and heartbreaking.
Samuel L Jackson bought his A game to Ptolemy Grey. I’d be very surprised if he doesn’t at least get an Emmy nod next year.
I loved the book. I find the show intro to be very off-putting for the story, pretty try-hard and cringe and not remotely close to Peacemaker’s. I’m enjoying the show so far but very disappointed to hear they’re leaving it open for future seasons, it works perfectly as a limited series.
Assuming that this series was made first for the Asian markets, was the Grassroots’ song as a theme used in the overseas broadcasts? Because for English speakers the song feels “on-the-nose”. But if it was specifically chosen for all audiences, somehow it becomes an uplifting universal anthem.