‘Pachinko’ Takes Min Jin Lee’s Acclaimed Novel on a Sweeping Journey Through a Korean Family’s History 

Alci Rengifo

Min Jin Lee’s acclaimed novel “Pachinko” has the scope that easily sweeps a reader away. It is one of those classic tales about family trees and global history. When it was first published in 2017, then becoming a National Book Award finalist, no doubt some readers instantly considered it perfect material for a limited series. Now, here we are with Apple TV’s grand adaptation. Creator Soo Hugh successfully finds an absorbing drama to cull from Lee’s pages. With a bulk of its episodes directed by talent like Kogonada, the series achieves a level of quality that would make it ideal for watching on a big screen. This is nearly a work of cinema split into various parts. Above the technical craft, “Pachinko” can be moving with some classic lessons about generational trauma. A theme that never grows old is how we can rarely escape from our roots.

At the center of the story is a Korean family impacted by the Japanese occupation of their country in the early 20th century. Four generations span the eight episodes of this journey, with the key link being Sunja. We first meet her in the 1910s (played by Yu-na Jeon) as a small child living near a fishing port with her parents. Her father is considered a dim-wit but he is a loving protector. Then the horrors of the Japanese occupation begin and Koreans are forced to be second class citizens in their own country. When Sunja’s father grows ill and dies, she and her mother still manage to get by. Years later, as a young woman played by Minha Kim, Sunja falls for a wealthy businessman named Koh Hansu (Lee Minho), who soon enough impregnates her. It’s an emotionally shattering experience because Hansu is already married. A traveling Christian, who seeks shelter in Sunja’s home while suffering from tuberculosis, offers to marry her. Thus, the next stage of her journey begins. These moments from Sunja’s youth are juxtaposed with the year 1989, when her grandson, Solomon (Jin Ha) is desperate to rise in the ranks of the Japanese corporation where he works. Now an aged Sunja (Oscar-winning Yuh-Jung Youn) lives in Osaka, haunted by the past while still having plenty to teach the ambitious Solomon.

Readers unfamiliar with the novel might be wondering what any of this has to do with pachinko, the arcade, pinball-style game that has also become a gambling rage in Japan. In the story is the family business run by Solomon’s father, Mozasu (Soji Arai), which pays the bills, yet adds to the curious class conflicts the narrative captures so well. There are so many layers and subtle themes to “Pachinko,” that much would have been lost if this had been reduced to a feature film. So many shows are overstretched ideas this one has a story more than apt for its format. As an aesthetic experience it’s one of the year’s best-looking series. The opening title sequence alone is an exhilarating combo of dance and color set to The Grass Roots’ “Let’s Live for Today.” Kogonada, who just released the evocative sci-fi parable “After Yang,” and Justin Chon, director of “Blue Bayou,” each directed four episodes. They bask in grandiose wide angles, emotional close-ups and use vintage title formats to announce what year and city we’re in. Sunja’s village is a place of waves and overcast skies, where the fish markets drip with action and fear of the Japanese presence. Elegant men in suits look stranded from classic Hollywood dramas. In 1980s Osaka and Tokyo, the environment is now dominated by metallic skyscrapers and the disciplined corporate offices where Solomon puts on a tough exterior. 

If the settings are epic, the human element is more complex, yet emotionally universal. “Pachinko” is an American production that can also be ranked with the growing wave of Korean and Asian media sweeping viewers. But on a universal level it’s a great story about the immigrant experience anywhere. Sunja’s family is impacted by issues of class and historical forces out of their control. She eventually moves to Japan because circumstances simply took her there, like migrants who move from Central America to the U.S. because of hardship, or Middle Eastern refugees streaming to Europe. Only the communities going through displacement truly understand their own plight. Even years later in 1989, Solomon deals with his white American boss, Tom (Jimmi Simpson), ignorantly wondering aloud why Koreans and Japanese don’t just get along. Then, at an important dinner, a Japanese CEO first asks Solomon what his “blood type” is. If it isn’t race, then class becomes the great divide, as Sunja learns early on when her wealthy lover offers to hide her as the kept mother of his child. When she agrees to marry Isak (Steve Sanghyun Noh), the generous Christian, even his pastor initially condemns her for being pregnant. Solomon may be rising, but co-workers joke about his dad being a “pachinko man.” No wonder the philosopher Hannah Arendt once wrote that the only love she shared for “a people” was for her friends and loved ones.

So many threads and yet they all connect. Even if one smaller plotline deviates from the others, like Solomon’s growing closeness to a coworker, Naomi (Anna Sawai), it’s part of the greater panorama. We grow into our own individual experiences and lives, but in obvious or small ways, it’s all influenced by the past. Solomon is where he is because of Sunja’s journey that began long ago in war-torn Korea. The discriminations he faces are products of an era his forebears lived through. We love, feel heartbreak and accomplishment, as did our grandparents. In 1989 Solomon receives mysterious phone calls from a woman who disappeared from his life and keeps tabs on him. Years before, Sunja avoided the gaze at the fish market of the handsome power player who seduced her. Now he longs to reconnect with this mysterious woman, while Sunja eats a bowl of rice from her country and longs to return. Solomon can’t tell the difference between Korean and Japanese rice, but for Sunja and another Korean her age, it’s beyond apparent. Solomon’s big break comes when he’s tasked with securing the sale of a property owned by another aged Korean woman. He tries to get Sunja to help convince the reluctant woman and the result is a powerful lesson in immigrants connecting through a lasting attachment to their homeland.

Stories like “Pachinko” provide expected heart tugs and doomed romance, which will always feature in drama. The higher value is how telling more stories like this on a major platform confirms our, thankfully, shrinking world. This is a grand Korean story and a family one. No matter our point of origin, we are endlessly shaped by past events and choices. Pachinko is an addictive game because it is based so much on chance. You have to pull the lever and hope the ball makes it into the jackpot. Life is like that. We take many chances and hope to survive. Solomon is so blinded by wanting to prove himself as a corporate operator, that getting Sunja involved in his potential big deal turns into a lesson about what matters beyond material obsessions. “Pachinko” does the same for all of us. We can move anywhere else, and even plant roots, and yet we always carry a lot more baggage than we realize.

“Pachinko” begins streaming March 25 with new episodes premiering Fridays on Apple TV+.