Created by Soo Hugh
Written by Ethan Kuperberg & Soo Hugh (1.07) and Mfoniso Udofia & Soo Hugh (1.08)
Directed by Kogonada (1.07) and Justin Chon (1.08)
Starring Youn Yuh-jung, Kim Min-ha, Jin Ha, Lee Min-ho
All episodes streaming on AppleTV+

by Jaime Davis, Staff Writer

By episodes 7 and 8, the final installments of the sweeping emotional rollercoaster that is Pachinko, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Knowing that series creator Soo Hugh envisioned a full adaptation of Min Jin Lee’s novel coming in at four seasons, how could they possibly wrap up the first season of the show? What resolution would we, the audience, get to sustain us as we inevitably have to wait at least a year for future episodes? Luckily, season two was announced earlier this week by AppleTV+, which allowed me to breathe a HUGE sigh of relief. But, I must say, I still feel a bit lost in pinpointing my exact feelings towards the final two episodes of season one. While, overall, I feel the show is doing a solid job of living up to the brilliance of its source material, some unexpected turns packed into the final leg still have me thinking.

Episode 7 - Koh Hansu gets the star treatment

I want to start by saying that I found this episode cinematic, beautifully made (Kogonada is just so damn good), and highly intriguing. When the episode begins with only the show name briefly present on screen without the buoyancy of its full credit sequence, it’s clear this episode is going to be different. Soo Hugh manages to weave so much little known history related to Korea and Japan’s complicated, often brutal relationship. Not only do we get a further glimpse into life for Koreans in Japan during the first half of the 20th century, but the episode focuses on the Great Kantō Earthquake of 1923, considered one of the most devastating natural disasters in Japan’s history. The earthquakes affected Tokyo, Yokohama, and surrounding regions, resulting in huge atrocities due to wildfires, tsunamis, and landslides. Hundreds of thousands of people died, millions became homeless, with damages totalling $1 billion ($16 billion today). Even more devastating was the racial violence towards Koreans, and the heavy anti-Korean sentiment that followed. Rumors swirled that Koreans were taking advantage of the situation to loot and create havoc, a storm of misinformation that ultimately resulted in the deaths of an estimated 6,000 to 10,000 Koreans.

Hugh and Kuperberg insert Koh Hansu directly into the hours leading up to the Kantō Earthquake, as he deliberates whether to work for the local Yakuza boss to pay off his father’s debts, or head to America with his employer, whose (inadequate) son is attending Yale soon and requires his tutelage. Hansu’s father implores him to do the latter, to get out - to be free. While that isn’t what fate has in store, I couldn’t help but feel that America probably wouldn’t have been the savior his father thought it might be. Over a period of hours, we follow Hansu as he plots his course and fights to survive the earthquake, its aftermath, and the ensuing violence towards Koreans.

While the episode is a marvel, and historically gripping, none of this exists in Min Jin Lee’s book, not even the origin of how Hansu originally gets the storied pocket watch that he eventually gifts to Sunja. While there are little glimpses in the novel of Hansu’s past, none of it is nearly as fully formed as episode 7 envisions. The show works hard to make Hansu a complex, likable character, and I must admit I am torn because Book Hansu and Show Hansu feel like two totally different species. While Book Hansu is more of a (slightly colder) sketch, Show Hansu is fully realized, complicated, and someone audiences may root for or romanticize. However you look at Hansu, the episode gave folks a lot to ponder.

And I just need to add here that I love Lee Min-ho as Koh Hansu, especially in this episode. If I was remotely interested in male dudes I would have a poster of him on my wall, follow all the stan accounts, and tell anyone who would listen he was my future husband because this man is just incredible.

Episode 8 - Hana’s goodbye

I’m super intrigued by Sunja and Isak’s sons Noa and Mozasu, yet we get very little in season one about the brothers’ dynamic. (Hopefully more to come in S2!) Instead, in the back half of the season, we spend a lot of time with Hana, a cold and mysterious ex-girlfriend from Solomon’s past, basically The Girlfriend, The One That Got Away, the Depressed Manic Pixie Dream Mean Girl. I haven’t gotten to Hana in the book yet, so I can’t comment too much, but she’s not the most likable character in the show, yet I feel the writers want us to feel invested in all things Hana and Solomon. We only get one scene of the two of them together, in the Before Times, when they were younger and more carefree. But even in that scene it’s hard to detect true love between the two. In a scene where young Hana pressures Solomon to shoplift from a convenience store, we understand Solomon’s fascination with her, but get very little else. By episode 8, Hana is nearly dying of AIDS, sequestered in an unused hospital wing, trying to help Solomon See the Light and learn Great Big Life Lessons before her time is up. I wish I could say that Hana feels like more than just a plot device to push things along, but by the time we get to the end of her storyline in 1989, I questioned why we needed so much of her. No offense, but I could’ve done without her whole subplot.

Episode 8 - Team Sunja Ending vs. Team Documentary-Style Ending

Near the end of the season finale, Sunja finds herself in survival mode as Isak is arrested for suspected political (read: Communist) activities. I’m just about to this part in the book, and I heard that the show deviates a bit from how things are written in the novel (rude!), but it makes me so sad to know that we may not have Isak around anymore. He’s become one of my favorite characters in both the show and book, and I wish there were more onscreen moments between him and Sunja - or him and Noa. But, sigh, that was not to be. Maybe he’ll pop up again next season? As his brother Joseb loses his job due to his affiliation to Isak’s political tendencies, Sunja, as Sunja is known to do, takes matters into her own hands by making kimchi and selling it in the marketplace. Towards the end of the episode, we see her dramatically come to life as she finds her voice to hawk her goods in the crowded space. Watching the fluttering emotions passing through Kim Min-ha’s talented, expressive face, the show could’ve ended there, but instead, it goes in an entirely unexpected direction.

One of the most unusual things about the finale is the documentary-style ending, in which director Justin Chon features interviews between historian Jackie J. Kim-Wachutka and surviving Zainichi women in Japan, recounting some of their harrowing experiences in the country. Creator Soo Hugh originally envisioned the footage to close out the series finale after season four, but ultimately decided to add it to episode 8 in case the interviewed women don’t live long enough to see the finale, or in case the show doesn’t make it that far. And I totally get that. As much as I delighted in the documentary footage, and hearing more about these women’s lives, I still feel like this ending felt out of place. Pachinko, the show, feels the most invigorating when Sunja is front and center, and honoring that in the ending could have provided a more satisfying closure for the audience. While it’s important to see, listen to, and honor the real-life Sunjas, I just wish it could have been somewhere else, or part of something else.

Overall, this season of Pachinko has been an enlightening, beautiful, and emotionally stimulating experience. It’s not a perfect adaptation, but there’s no such thing. I continue to love both the novel and the show equally, yet separately. And I absolutely can’t wait for season two. For now, I’ll just have to settle for following Lee Min-ho on Instagram.