Minari and the “Immigrant Story”
When people hear “immigrant story,” the elements that usually come to mind are: struggle and sacrifice in a new land, cultural rifts, and lack of money. Usually before finding some sense of place or success.
While these are common themes in many immigrant stories, everyone’s story is unique and nuanced. But sometimes I think this is forgotten and there is an assumption that it’s going to be the same story with the same arcs every time. Partly because this is one of the few stories that people of colour have been allowed to tell in western cinema. So to some degree, I will admit, I thought Minari was going to be similar. But I was pleasantly surprised to see it wasn’t quite that.
I was fortunate enough to have seen Minari recently. And while these elements were all present, it wasn’t at all in the way I thought they would play out. The conflicts weren’t so much external as they were internal. I thought outright racists incidents might be an obvious element of external conflict, but the few racist encounters we see aren’t vicious, but based more in ignorance and seen as harmless (perhaps we’d call them micro-aggressions now, but that’s another story). The story felt very personal - about a family going through challenges together. I think everyone can relate to this, yet also see how every family shares complexities that are singular to their own experiences.
It was perfectly balanced. Nothing was overly sentimental, but the love the characters had for one another was very clear. And although painful and difficult things happen, nothing felt soul-crushing or unbearable. There was always a note of resilience and hope throughout the difficulty.
Everyone has a story - one that is unique and singular, even if the elements are the same (like sacrifice, struggle, money, racism etc.). And we all deserve to tell our stories. What made Minari so effective was that it was about a family. It didn’t matter what language they were speaking (*cough* Golden Globes…*cough*), or where they were. We could empathize. It was specific, real, relatable - even if we have never gone through these things ourselves. This is the beauty and power of storytelling. We have the capacity to empathize and see the world from various views. It allows us to learn and grow.
It left me feeling hopeful in a few different ways. Hopeful in the face of adversity (for the characters and for ourselves). Hopeful that these stories are being told. And hopeful that perhaps one day, I’ll tell my own stories too.
