We have made it far into the second season of Pachinko, to the second to last episode, in fact, and a lot has happened. While at various times in the first half of the season, the stakes for the family were extremely high — survival and safety foremost among them — as we’ve progressed, the story has mostly shifted gears into domestic melodrama territory, with the exception of the Nagasaki interlude in “Chapter Thirteen.â€
That mode, as I have argued, suits the show well. But the emotional intensity of the story, coupled with the weekly episode schedule, can’t camouflage the unevenness of the season’s pace. This week’s episode is almost fifteen minutes longer than last week’s, which was ten minutes shorter than the one before. I don’t want to be nitpicky about episode length, but it’s indicative of the show’s confusion about the speed with which events should unfurl that it oscillates between episodes that are jam-packed with information and ones that, in comparison, seem almost idle.
The result is that, in “Chapter Fifteen,†Pachinko is hurrying to catch up with everything and, therefore, clumsily letting the plot get ahead of the characters. In this episode, we have even more of the kind of instrumental scene I brought up last week, and I could feel the writers setting up for the next season. Meanwhile, what I really care about is the sum of small things: the fate of the star-crossed lovers, Mozasu and Noa’s relationship, and the surprising warmth of Sunja and Kato’s new friendship.
1950
It’s become almost a signature for an episode of Pachinko to open on an inviting shot of a sumptuous meal. This time, the occasion is Noa’s entrance into Waseda. Together with friends, the family throws a party to celebrate his achievement. Under a bilingual banner that reads “Our Noa is going to Waseda University!â€, people are talking, drinking, eating, and crying, and the spirits are so high that not even the arrival of Hansu in a white linen suit can spoil the moment for Sunja. Taking his son aside, Hansu gives Noa the gold pocket watch that he had given Sunja years earlier — the one she pawned during her first week in Osaka in order to settle one of Yoseb’s debts — and tells him that the watch was “how it all started,†though he doesn’t say what it is. Noa doesn’t ask, Hansu doesn’t explain, and Sunja looks concerned. (I wonder how many times I’ve written this sentence this season.) Elsewhere in the crowd, Kim Changho listens as some men talk about the difficulty of the journey back to Korea, and Yoseb watches from the window of his room, drinking alone.
No doubt satisfied with his son’s excellent effort, Hansu’s mind is free to focus on other things: Yoshii Isamu, Kurogane’s marriage to his daughter Keiko, and Kim’s nagging idea about leaving Japan to go fight in Korea, which we’ll get to a bit later. His father-in-law tells him he has nothing to worry about when it comes to Yoshii — “just some unfortunate thug,†he dismisses — and instead, he should prioritize their (opaque) work on the construction of new subway lines. His daughter’s marriage shouldn’t be of any concern to him, either — in fact, he won’t even have to attend the wedding. Without really looking remorseful, Hansu’s father-in-law tells him that Kurogane has requested Hansu’s absence at the ceremony, and even though he knows it’s an outrageous ask, he has agreed to it. Hansu is genuinely hurt, but not because of his affection for Keiko, whom, apart from a passing glance in the first season, we’ve never met — it has to do with dignity.
Back at the Baek household, we witness a familiar sight: Kyunghee, Sunja, and Yangjin on their knees, packing clothes. For the first time, this image implies fortune rather than uncertainty, but Sunja is shaken anyway. Noa, for his part, is enjoying his last few moments with his little brother Mozasu, who shows him how to play pachinko. Foreshadowing the success he will find in the business later on, Mozasu is a natural at the parlor: he schmoozes with the employees and knows how to manipulate the game, which is too unruly for the pragmatic Noa.
It would be easy to dismiss Mozasu as an absent-minded dreamer — the pressure to excel put on his brother doesn’t even graze Mozasu’s role in the family. But in “Chapter Fifteen,†the strengths of his personality assert themselves: his fearlessness leaves the plane of abstraction and becomes a trait with meaningful consequences. He’s genuinely excited for Noa to experience the big city in Tokyo, but he will do more with his life than just live vicariously through his smart brother — his own plan is to make money and move to America, where, besides having access to big cars and big houses, he hopes he won’t “have to be the person they see [him] as†in Japan. Mozasu’s heart-aching optimism moves the viewer and his brother, too.
But this is only the first of two big Mozasu moments in this episode. The following sequence, which is much too dark for how pivotal it is in terms of character development, starts with Sunja saying a beautiful prayer before dinner, asking God to take care of Noa in Tokyo and guide his path in the big city. The prayer is so good that it makes everyone emotional, including Noa himself. As they begin to eat, Yoseb comes downstairs to ruin this nice moment for everyone. He immediately starts complaining in an aggressive tone: Why wasn’t he called down to eat with them? Is a soup, which is too salty, all they could put together for Noa’s send-off? Finally, Mozasu can’t take it anymore. He stands up for his Aunt Kyunghee, who has always treated him with maternal devotion and whose hard work is driven by a saintly tolerance. Exasperated but affectionate, he exclaims that what happened to Yoseb was not their fault and they don’t deserve the brunt of his anger. Unexpectedly, the timid Noa takes his brother’s side, wrapping a scarf around his uncle’s neck. In the five years since Yoseb suffered the tragedy in Nagasaki, he hasn’t left the house once. The boys think it’s about time. Yoseb resists, violently at first, but ultimately gives in.
Yoseb becomes overwhelmed with the change almost as soon as he takes a few steps out of the house, but Mozasu encourages him; trusting his own courage and adolescent wisdom, he knows that the only way out for Yoseb is through. They wind up at a little league baseball game. At first, Yoseb follows the trajectory of the ball with his eyes; when the batting kid is paralyzed at home plate, he encourages him to run. Little by little, he gets more involved, so by the time the kid scores a run, he is throwing his hands in the air in excitement. Like Kato and Sunja’s margarita date last week, this is another small moment that moves as much, if not more, than any of the larger emotional gestures in the show — some pleasures are immune to misery’s greedy hands. Yoseb’s eyes well up.
If it weren’t for Mozasu’s fearlessness, Yoseb might have never been able to experience that small joy, make it out of his room, or even rethink the way he took out his anger on his loyal wife. But this bravery didn’t just spring out of nowhere. Sunja’s quieter courage emerges in her conversation with Hansu, who comes to her for advice. Disappointed by the person he’s become, so different from the lover who dreamed of a better life by the cove in Busan, he’s concerned about what he calls “the rot†that has been festering in him. Sunja’s advice is clear, direct, and mind-blowing: Just cut out the rot. It’s that simple. Though it’s delivered starkly, in truth, her message shows how much faith she has in him: The rot is not an integral part of his personality but a foible that, with effort, can be dispelled. Hansu retreats into himself, thanks her, and leaves.
It was when Noa says his last good-byes to his family before taking the train to Tokyo with Sunja that I started to feel like we’d been saying good-bye to Noa for 40 minutes already. Because the farewells known by the Baek family are permanent — or, at least, for the indeterminate future — the moment Noa leaves is charged; everyone is sad. Mozasu keeps it in almost until the last minute, when he cries out for his brother and runs to his embrace. Noa tells him to always fight for his dreams, and by the time he finally gets to Tokyo with his mother, the world has already brightened — the colors on the Waseda campus are so much brighter than Osaka’s.
Sunja looks more nervous than Noa when they get there. The staffer registering incoming students into the dorms recognizes Noa’s Japanese name, which is engraved on a gold plate attached to a suitcase that was delivered by a chauffeured car earlier that day, puzzling all of the staff, as well as Noa. Sunja and I, on the other hand, are not very confused. It’s obvious who is behind this, and while Sunja might have felt compelled to bring up Hansu with her son on the train ride — she opened her mouth as if to say something, then quickly closed it — she ultimately speaks of her father, Hoonie. He raised Sunja to want to see the world and fly. The responsibility has now shifted onto Noa, and she wants him to bear it — then come home and tell everyone what the world is like. For Sunja, it’s easier to hug her son tightly once and walk away without looking back, so that’s what she does. I wish we’d gotten a glimpse into Noa’s dorm room, but things get exciting quickly. Walking around, he notices a girl speaking on a soapbox about American intervention and empire and the necessity to free Japan from Western pressure. It’s college, all right!
While Noa was exploring campus, the worst thing happened in Osaka. Kim Changho decides to join the Northern fight in Korea, as per his agreement with Hansu, who promised he’d be free to go as soon as Noa was installed at Waseda. But just as he is about to leave, he is cornered by Yoseb, who asks him to stay. He knows that Kim and Kyunghee love each other — Kyunghee has never looked at him, he admits painfully, the way she looks at Kim. The repercussions of Mozasu’s encouragement are broader and deeper than he could have predicted. Defeated, Yoseb tells Kim that Kyunghee deserves more than what he can give her. If Kim stays, Yoseb will stand out of the way of his and Kyunghee’s happiness.
In an ecstatic state of disbelief, Kim runs through the streets of the neighborhood looking for Kyunghee. When he finally finds her, Kyunghee’s reaction is far from what Kim hoped. Resigned, she confesses in a hushed but firm tone that she thinks what happened to Yoseb is her fault. The bomb struck on the same night as when she broke her marriage vows with Kim in the countryside. She prayed, and her husband came back, so now she is indebted to God and must devote herself to him as if to atone for her sin. Kim can’t believe it, and frankly, neither can I. It’s upsetting that Kyunghee is always playing Mother Teresa; repeatedly called up to be the martyr, she constantly obeys, never veering from the path of righteousness. Given our knowledge about what ultimately happened in North Korea, it’s even more maddening that she asks Kim to fight and come back to her after. This is why, like he once told her, you have to live life for what it is — not for what it may one day become …
This really gets to me, but anyway, Hansu’s last, mysterious job for Kim before he left — this time making a friend instead of beating someone up — did end up in violence after all. The friend turned out to be Yoshii, and the foe turned out to be his father-in-law. Hansu lets Yoshii in through the front door, and the gangster stabs the old man right in the gut, sending him backward into the koi pond to look up as if he were floating.
1989
Heartbreak and front-stabbing (?) are rampant in the more recent past, too. When Naomi gets called into the director’s office for a meeting with Tom at the beginning of “Chapter Fifteen,†she can immediately tell that something is wrong. Her superiors tell her they have discovered that she disclosed confidential information about the upcoming IPO — non-sensitive information, that is, that she excitedly and confidentially told Solomon when her guard was down during their dinner with Sunja. Remember when things were that nice and hopeful? Her behavior is not only unacceptable on company terms but also because she is a woman, and as such, she must be Perfect. Naomi resents that notion and says so, nodding at Tom, who got a second chance after doing much worse (basically committing fraud). This time, though, her plea isn’t convincing. She gets fired, and to Yoshii’s pleasure, Tom is immediately able to call in Abe’s loan. Like his mentor in malice and immorality, Yoshii is proud of Solomon for following through; he didn’t think he had it in him.
I would love to know what Sunja thinks about Solomon’s despicable behavior, but happily, she’s too busy learning how to repot plants and garden with her friend Kato. He asks her about Connecticut, and she describes it with fondness. He laments that he’s always wanted to see America but has never been able to afford it — in fact, his financial situation is still difficult, and he’s considering moving in with his daughter in Nagoya. Perhaps out of sympathy or out of fear that he will move so far just as she’s gotten used to the idea of letting a new person in, Sunja hands Kato an envelope filled with money she saved from selling her restaurant — our first indication that her far-reaching dream eventually became a reality. Kato is always going on and on about living life in the moment, so why not now? Kato sees her and raises her: Well, why not go together?
It’s not an idea that her son Mozasu might find prudent. The P.I. he hired reported that Kato lives alone, rarely sees his family, and has no assets or savings. More concerningly, he served in the war and was put on trial — his unit murdered 139 American prisoners of war in the 1948 massacre at Palawan Island. When he gives her a folder detailing this stain in Kato’s past, Sunja wants to know — again simply, but again devastatingly — why he is doing this. He wants her to know the truth. But the truth, actually, is that for years Mozasu was with Etsuko, whom Sunja treated kindly; and she was nothing if not polite to Naomi, Solomon’s Japanese (ex) girlfriend. Why is she not allowed a Japanese friend, especially when so many of her loved ones are gone? With her classic unassuming defiance, later on, Sunja flips through travel brochures.
Pinball Thoughts
• It’s curious that Hansu’s father-in-law has gotten so much air time over the last three weeks as the only person who had the authority to undermine and intimidate the formidable Koh Hansu. Yet, we have seen nothing of Hansu’s wife. In Lee’s book, Hansu’s Japanese family stays mostly removed from Sunja’s reality — except for an important moment later in her story, which I won’t spoil for you here — so that they’re emblematic of how distant Hansu’s real life is from the Baek family’s, even in moments when they might seem close.
• It’s also curious that although Kyunghee is the character most closely resembling a saint of some sort when Kim Changho asks her to be with him, a single spotlight illuminates him — as if he were literally a godsend, or maybe an actor in an opera whose tragic protagonist is Kyunghee.