Pachinko: Season 1 Review - IGN (2024)

Pachinko will debut on Apple TV+ with three episodes on March 25, 2022, followed by a new episode each subsequent Friday.

Book-to-television adaptations can be difficult to pull off, especially when they feature heavy themes surrounding real-life situations. In this case, AppleTV+’s drama series Pachinko, based on the bestselling novel by Min Jin Lee, chronicles the struggles and successes of four generations of a Korean immigrant family living in Japan. The story takes place between the years of 1910 and 1989, a period that included the Japanese occupation of Korea; the 1923 Great Kantō Earthquake, which led to the massacre of Korean residents in Japan; and the events of World War II. During this time, Zainichi Koreans (ethnic Korean residents of Japan) were discriminated against and were even denied citizenship, despite some being born there. It is a tough and extremely sensitive subject to cover in just eight episodes, but Pachinko beautifully weaves a story about what it means to sacrifice for your family and the generational burden that comes with it.

Told through the eyes of Sunja (Yu-na Jeon as a child, Minha Kim as an adult, and Yuh-jung Youn as an elder), with some stories surrounding the important people in her life, Pachinko jumps between dual timelines to reflect the parallels from one generation to another. For example, the first episode centers on Sunja’s early upbringing in Korea. Her parents, after losing three children prematurely, pray for a healthy child and are told they will have a daughter who will thrive and that, through her, a family will endure. Sunja is born to a doting father who does whatever it takes to protect his daughter from the ugliness of the world; but as Koreans in a land occupied by the Japanese, that ugliness is hard to escape. These scenes interchange with the introduction of Solomon (Jin Ha), Sunja’s grandson, who faces discrimination from his white employers at an American bank. Driven to succeed, he promises to close a deal in Japan to prove himself to the company. This takes him back to Osaka to visit his family, including Sunja’s son/Solomon’s father Mozasu (Soji Arai) who, like many Zainichi Koreans, owns a successful pachinko parlor.

The title of the series derives from the Japanese pinball game that is used for gambling. Back in the day, Koreans in Japan could not find legal employment, but were able to find work in the parlors. It became connected to Korean Japanese identity – and since they were looked down upon, often associated with criminals. Although Mozasu has found success in the business, he – like many fathers – wants more for his son and pushes Solomon to start a new life in America.

The themes of sacrifice and burden are referenced throughout the series as Sunja remembers the trouble she and her family went through, including a heartbreaking scene where Sunja’s mother, Yangjin (Jeong In-ji), begs a merchant for a cup of white rice, which was restricted to be sold only to the Japanese, to celebrate Sunja’s marriage. Because of this, when Sunja is presented with the cup of white rice, she is left in tears, understanding the lengths her mother must have gone through for this small luxury. Another instantly emotional scene sees an elderly Korean woman telling Solomon, “What family hasn’t suffered? Tell me the truth. When old people talk about suffering, isn’t it tiresome?” He responds with a straight face as if he’s heard this many times before, “Isn’t that the point… to burden us?”

The series also depicts the “otherness” that many immigrant families deal with being in a different country. Sunja and her family experience harsh treatment from the Japanese throughout their lives. Pachinko never directly shows the physical abuse, which would be traumatic for many viewers, but instead provides the emotional aftermath of each tragedy, including a scene where one character hides from Japanese vigilantes who are hunting down escaped Koreans prisoners. Instead of focusing on the violence taking place before him, it smartly centers on the bystander’s face, capturing the escalating grief on his face. The discrimination carries through as Pachinko moves across the timelines. As hard as Koreans try to integrate into Japanese society, they are constantly reminded they will never fit in. Despite being born and raised in Japan as a third-generation Korean Japanese – and in spite of his fancy degrees, expensive suits, and perfect Japanese – Solomon realizes that he will never truly be seen as their equal.

These stories of struggle and perseverance surrounding the immigrant experience have been told before, but what makes Pachinko so compelling are the intriguing character developments and the incredible performances. The entire cast is excellent, particularly Jeon, Kim, and Youn as three different versions of the lead character. All three embody the character perfectly during their respective time periods. Jeon performs young Sunja with so much optimism as we begin to learn about this cunning little girl who is destined to flourish. Jeon and Daeho Lee, who plays her kind and disabled father, are given the sweetest moments in the series. Despite all the obstacles and heartbreak, it is Sunja’s love for her father and mother that gives her the strength to survive. Kim, as teen/adult Sunja, is fantastic as she transitions from a naive child to a hardened adult who learns what it means to survive in a world that doesn’t want her. Academy Award winner Youn plays the elderly Sunja with a ton of conviction as a mother and grandmother who had endured so much pain in her life for her children.

Directors Kogonada and Justin Chon each provide their own creative spin to their entries.

Although the series has a lot of charm, it fails its source material by changing and removing several of the themes and nuances that the book is best known for. The basis of Pachinko is from the perspective of Zainichi Koreans (ethnic Korean residents of Japan), which is a very Korean story, but the series feels more westernized in its storytelling and conclusion. The alterations made to several characters’ story arcs completely change much of the symbolism that garnered the book praise, including the erasure of discussions surrounding Korean comfort women, homosexuality, faith and Christianity, the contrast between Koreans and Korean American ideals, and identity conformity. Instead, the stories mostly choose happy or righteous endings that give us assurance rather than depict the reality of the situation. A few characters are given half-baked endings, including an important person in the book whose storyline is changed from one centering on his sexuality to what seems to be suspected drug use that is never fully explained. The character feels more like an Easter egg for fans of the novel rather than a meaningful portrayal of an important part in Mozasu’s life. It would have been better to not include him at all if they weren’t going to address his connection to the story as a whole.

Directors Kogonada (episodes 1-4) and Justin Chon (episodes 5-8) each provide their own creative spin to their entries. Their work is wonderfully shot, especially Kogonada, who brings out the beauty of Sunja’s hometown, making a dirty and busy fish market feel like home. In the first few episodes, the pacing feels adequate, and at times the slowness is what is most beautiful about the scenes. But as the series progresses, the pacing quickens and feels congested with too much information, especially the final two episodes. Chon, who is given the difficult task of bringing the story to its conclusion, executes the pains and joys of the situation beautifully. Unfortunately, some scenes feel incomplete, which is more the fault of the script than the directing.

Granted, it’s difficult to satisfyingly tell a story with so many complex characters and significant themes. Many of the faithful book readers, with whom so much of its subject matter resonates, should still connect with a series about a mother’s love and sacrifice and the burdens that come with it, as well as the feeling of feeling like an “other” in their own home. As a standalone show, Pachinko is most intriguing when it centers around the mothers in the story, including Sunja, Yangjin, and Mozasu’s girlfriend, Etsuko (Kaho Minami), and their love for their children. But if fans are expecting a completely faithful adaptation of Pachinko, then eight episodes are simply not enough to fully tell this rich story.

Verdict

AppleTV+’s Pachinko provides a compelling story of otherness, familial sacrifice, and the generational burden that comes with it, delivering on both entertainment and more than a few emotional moments. Although beautifully shot and with a strong cast, including Yuh-jung Youn and Minha Kim, the series does occasionally fail its source material by overstuffing the eight episodes with unnecessary changes that feel more westernized and given happier or more righteous conclusions that betray the dire truth of the situation.

Pachinko: Season 1 Review - IGN (2024)

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