Season 2 of Pachinko premieres August 23 on Apple TV+.
The first season of the Apple TV+ drama Pachinko boasted rich storytelling, cinematography, and production design. But in their attempts to adapt as much of Min Jin Lee’s bestselling, multigenerational epic as possible, the first eight episodes of the series often felt overstuffed. Season 2 seems to recognize those shortcomings, and finds its own voice and interpretations by taking creative liberties with its source material that create more plot- and character-driven storylines. In this astonishing second season, showrunner Soo Hugh expands Pachinko into a masterclass in resonance and reflection while also paying respect to the overarching themes of the book – and produces some of 2024’s best television in the process.
Hugh – alongside directors Leanne Welham, Arvin Chen, and Sang-il Lee (replacing Kogonada and Justin Chon, who each directed half of season 1) – wonderfully weaves Pachinko’s split timelines together, showcasing past mistakes and, often, a future doomed to repeat them. As ailing priest Isak (Steve Sang-hyun Noh) teaches his sons about the strength of showing mercy in the 1940s (“Mercy is neither a gift nor a power. Mercy is an admission. Survival comes at a cost”), his grandson Solomon (Jin Ha) is given none by his former boss in 1989 – prompting a malicious reprisal from the young businessman. Though there isn’t always a lesson that connects them, the transitions between stories are more cohesive than they were last season, thanks to some smart changes between the novel and the series. While the destination remains the same, the journey is altered to fit its new medium.
Hugh keeps significant moments from the book but expands several story arcs to create more tension and depth, including providing Solomon with more opportunities to grow as a person. Even his grandmother, Sunja (Yuh-jung Youn) gets to reflect on her loneliness when a potential companion enters her life. This also allows for a broadening of themes that makes Pachinko more relatable regardless of your personal heritage. Hugh and her collaborators don’t forget the immigrant experience and generational trauma that defined season 1; rather they build upon those core themes by highlighting the injustice, guilt, rumination, and survival that stem from them.
The second season picks up with the younger Sunja (Minha Kim) and her family taken to the countryside to avoid the devastation of Osaka during World War II – thanks to Hansu (Min-ho Lee), Sunja’s resourceful ex-lover and the biological father of Noa (Kang Hoon Kim as a teen, Tae Jung Kang as a young adult). Meanwhile, in 1989, Solomon struggles to start his own business. Ha delivers an impressive performance as Solomon’s desperation turns into vicious revenge as he plots to take down his former employer, who has blacklisted him.
Throughout these stories and across the decades, Pachinko’s cinematography, production and costume design, and direction remain lavishly satisfying, with apt attention to detail regarding the cultures it represents. Whether it’s the fabrics in the period wardrobes or the kimchi and noodles Sunja makes at her merchant stand, the imagery is poetically stunning. The dialogue `s, too: As Sunja and Noa share a meal at a tofu stand, Sunja reflects on the struggles she has gone through, dreaming of a better life for her sons. “I made a promise to your father,” she tells him. “No matter what, you and your brother must thrive. I intend on keeping that promise.” Nico Muhly's brilliant score elevates the bold and touching story they share, adding a delicate resonance to moments between mother and children.
The first season of Pachinko bogged itself down in staying loyal to the novel, leading to characters who seemingly join the story out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly, their underdeveloped presences feeling like an empty nod to readers. This time around, Hugh gives the characters more substantial storylines with greater connection to the plot; the entire ensemble gives superb performances as they fill in the gaps left from before, each getting their moment to shine as their characters process their situation, possibly enacting changes – positive and negative – to their lives. Yoseb (Junwoo Han), who doesn’t have much depth in season 1 or in the novel, gets the spotlight in the outstanding Chen-directed fifth episode, which depicts his life in Nagasaki in black and white. An ominous ticking on the soundtrack foreshadows the approach of U.S. bombers and their atomic payload, and though he survives the tragic events of August 9, 1945, his life is never the same, leaving him physically and mentally scarred. Yet, rather than ending his life in misery, Pachinko gives Yoseb a chance to rebuild, granting him some peace and empathy.
Hugh offers every character, even the minor ones, the opportunity to explain themselves, never vilifying a person who may just be a victim of circumstance. This includes Noa’s school bully-turned-friend, whose behavior, we learn, is influenced by an abusive father; it also applies tp elder Sunja’s kind, new friend, Kato (Jun Kunimura), who carries a shady secret. When Sunja pushes Kato to reveal the skeletons in his closet, she tells them they were all fools to think the past can be forgotten. There is a shallow pause between the two before he disheartenedly replies, “What are we supposed to do then - spend the rest of our lives chained to it?” It’s a truly affecting scene.
Pachinko’s second season is television at its finest, offering thoughtful reflection in its pensive questions or words that linger even after the credits roll. While the series slightly touches on confronting the past, the shift in Noa's story opens new doors for the next season as it attempts to answer the question: Can we move on from the past? Or, as Hansu advises Noa as he embarks towards his future, “Look forward. Always look forward.”
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