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Apple TV+’s Ambitious Family Epic Returns for a Stunningly Emotional Season 2

When Sunja (Yuh-jung Youn) confronts a new friend (Jun Kunimura) about the dark secrets of his past, he reacts with the resignation of someone who’s long come to terms with them. He doesn’t react in shock or denial but offers explanations that are not quite excuses. He acknowledges that his history cannot be changed and asks, “What are we supposed to do then? Spend the rest of our lives chained to it?”

Sunja does not provide an answer, and neither does her series. Apple TV+’s Pachinko reflects on the impossibility of finding a definitive answer, highlighting the seeds planted years or generations earlier that manifest in unexpected ways. Creator Soo Hugh, adapting Min Jin Lee’s novel, harvests these moments to reveal emotional truths that linger long after the end credits.

The second season picks up with both halves of the story where they left off. In 1945, a 30-something Sunja (Minha Kim) and her family are whisked away to the relative safety of the Japanese countryside during World War II, thanks to Koh Hansu (Lee Minho), Sunja’s former lover and the biological father of her eldest son, Noa. Meanwhile, in 1989, Sunja’s grandson Solomon (Jin Ha) plots revenge against Abe (Yoshio Maki), the businessman he blames for ruining his career.

Though the fields of Sunja’s wartime journey are far removed from Solomon’s high-rises, Pachinko draws its impact from the echoes and contradictions between their stories. Slow fades often leave an image or a sound from one scene lingering into the next, making it hard to pinpoint where young Sunja’s family dinner ends and Solomon’s solo ramen supper begins.

Some hardships faced by the Baek family are easily anticipated by modern viewers. Reflections of the 2008 crash can be seen in Solomon’s disingenuous real estate pitches, and while the Japanese occupation of Korea might be unfamiliar to many American viewers, the months leading up to V-J Day are more familiar. When Kyunghee (Eunchae Jung), Sunja’s sister-in-law, mentions that her husband, Yoseb (Junwoo Han), has been sent to work at a munitions factory in Nagasaki, we understand the impending disaster.

The ten-minute sequence leading up to the bomb is strikingly captured by director Arvin Chen in grainy black-and-white and accompanied by the ominous tick of a countdown clock.

As ever, Pachinko’s true gift is its observant eye. Every detail, from a shabby shirt collar to the tenderness with which a mother packs her son’s suitcase, adds to the texture of its reality. Even casual dialogues, where an adolescent Noa (Kang Hoon Kim) and his younger brother, Mozasu (Eunseong Kwon), slip Japanese words into Korean conversations, enhances this immersion.

But while Pachinko excels in these little moments, it sometimes struggles to balance intimacy with ambition. Season one saw Sunja moving towards new horizons, but season two has the Baek family turning inward, with Koh orbiting them like a jealous moon and trying to shield them from external influences. New characters and upgraded supporting roles sometimes feel like distractions rather than life-changing relationships.

Moreover, a certain sense of ambiguity now seems lacking. While every version of Sunja is lovable, the younger one appears almost too noble. Minha Kim’s spectrum of emotions could benefit from a few darker shades. Her 1940s loved ones are similarly idealized, making their experiences feel somewhat sanitized.

In contrast, Solomon brings a needed dose of reality. Closer in temperament to the prickly Koh than his kindly grandmother, he nevertheless feels less knowable. His subplot, centered on a dry financial scheme, is less compelling than Sunja’s.

However, the combination of their stories offers something richer and more complex. They tell the story of a dream, not just a life. Sunja’s mid-20th-century struggles are a testament to her hopes for her descendants’ brighter futures. Solomon, at century’s end, both benefits from and chafes against these sacrifices. Unloading his frustration to an older Korean woman, he admits, “I’ve lived a pathetically easy life.”

This time, the show offers an answer. “I have no regrets about how I lived. It was a life lived well,” she tells him. Whether the Baeks’ stories turn out as hoped or not, Pachinko highlights that the journey is worth savoring.

Source: particle news