Pachinko boss breaks down season two’s heartbreaking finale
As a screenwriter and storyteller, I found it crucial to delve deeper into each character’s emotional journey, and that’s why we made the conscious decision to place Noa’s rage with Hansu rather than Sunja. It was essential for us to portray the raw intensity of his feelings, which felt more fitting for a character like Hansu who had been harboring resentment for years.
Coldplay’s “Viva la Vida” serenades us during the concluding episode of Pachinko‘s second season, encapsulating its all-encompassing, emotionally taxing, yet breathtakingly beautiful narrative one last time.
In the emotional finale, I, a devoted fan, found myself identifying deeply with Sunja Kim’s son, Noa. His unexpected exit left me feeling a wave of sorrow, much like ripples spreading in a pond. It seemed to strip away even more resilience from his mother, exposing raw feelings that were difficult to bear.
Heck, the masterful execution of Noa’s decision even made us feel pity for Hansu [Lee Min-ho].
Similar to its first season, the second installment of Pachinko immersed viewers in an emotional torrent that followed Sunja and her family’s resilient tale throughout time, balancing their hardships with small, tender moments of happiness.
Looking back on the series, Soo Hugh, the author, executive producer, and showrunner of Pachinko, delved into various aspects such as Isak’s demise and Noa’s farewell, and hinted at the repercussions of Isak’s departure for a potential season three.
The passing of Isak left quite an emotional impact. There are many unspoken words between him and Sunja. Regardless of the depth of her feelings for him, she never uttered ‘I love you’. What significance did this have? And what can we infer about her emotions towards him based on this silence?
That is such an interesting question. That’s one of the things about language that is so fascinating. In Korean, ‘I love you’ doesn’t exist in that way, especially between lovers.
On this program, what makes our translation task particularly difficult is that English contains certain concepts, one example being ‘I love you’, which are rich and multifaceted, aren’t they?
In another language that doesn’t exist, you can’t express it directly. However, you can find creative ways to convey similar sentiments. For instance, ‘I love you’ is a phrase we discuss frequently with translators. Since she didn’t say it explicitly, we communicated it through other means. There was one tear that trickled down Sunja’s cheek as she gazed at him, a silent expression of her feelings perhaps.
In an unsaid yet palpable manner, I find myself deeply resonating with the depth of her affection for him, much like you described – boundless and beyond the constraints of spoken words.
Solomon is certainly a multifaceted and intriguing figure. How might Solomon’s choice to deceive Naomi in episode six reflect his personal struggle with defining himself?
The exchange with Apple was quite intriguing; they posed a thought-provoking question during our interaction. Interestingly, in the script’s initial draft, the tone of the scene was even more striking, as if the question was delivered more bluntly and forcefully.
As a gamer, I found myself pondering over Apple’s comment about Solomon (Jin Ha) seeming unable to recover from his actions. Frankly, I was taken aback because I could see the reasoning behind what he did, but it seemed his motivation wasn’t fully fleshed out in the narrative yet. That’s why that heart-wrenching breakup scene between them was so pivotal, as it helped bring Solomon’s character arc into sharper focus for me.
It was even harsher the way he did it. It was more brutal.
Writing that particular scene proved quite challenging; it required approximately a hundred revisions to ensure both character consistency with Jin and an outstanding performance from the talented Anna Sawai as Naomi. Many suggestions were provided along the way.
It seems to me that what saved Solomon’s character was his lack of decisiveness. He hadn’t planned on doing what he did to her, and this ambiguity adds intrigue to his personality.
Inquiring about the reason behind altering the conversation between Noa and Sunja following the revelation of Noa’s parentage: Their discussion was exceptionally profound in the narrative, but it comes across differently on screen compared to the book, which is more brutal. Later, she also describes his farewell as an act of mercy. Could you explain why this change was made?
In my opinion, it seemed more appropriate for Hansu to handle the major crisis, as for Noa, it appeared like a point where he couldn’t contain his emotions any longer and they all just burst out.
That rage felt right with Hansu. It didn’t feel right with Sunja. I think after he lets that explosion go and he goes to see his mother, I think he actually understands what happened between them. I think he [Noa] can’t live with it.
That rage felt right with Hansu. It didn’t feel right with Sunja.
He was aware of the depth of his mother’s affection for him, which is why he wanted to bid farewell in a special way. He knew how devastating his departure would be for her, so he felt compelled to provide her with a goodbye, hoping it would offer her some comfort, even if she wasn’t aware of it at the time. The scene was a goodbye scene.
In the final scene featuring Noa, the beauty of the moment was accentuated by the music. Interestingly, it was the initial instance where an English song was played on this series. I’m curious if that choice was intentional.
Previously in our first season, we employed a cover song, specifically ‘In the Aeroplane Over the Sea’ by Neutral Milk Hotel. This time around, similar to how we used it before, we utilized a cover of Coldplay’s ‘Viva la Vida.’ It’s not that we aimed to replicate our first season, but rather, I’ve always been fond of that song. The lyrics resonate deeply with me and Noa in a meaningful way.
How do you think Noa’s decision is going to shape the tone of season three?
In a simplified manner, Season Three seems to explore the consequences of living without Noa, and it appears that the past and present timelines will intersect more intensely. This season seems to shed light on why Sunja behaves as she does in the contemporary narrative.
“We find it intriguing that the older Sunja shows a vulnerability and gentleness, which the younger version might not be able to exhibit freely. Particularly in this season, her softness at the end, despite all she’s been through, stands out. What aspect were you aiming to emphasize by portraying it this way?
I appreciate your keen observation. The portrayal of Sunja by Youn Yuh-jung is incredibly deep, as if each movement carries the burden of many unspoken experiences. To me, it seems her small stature conceals a life full of memories. You can truly sense this depth in her performance, and although Minho [Kim]’s Sunja hasn’t yet experienced as much, she’s clearly on that path. She’s growing into the role.
Towards the end of season two, you begin to notice her body becoming still and eventually falling asleep [after Noa leaves]. It’s as if two versions of Sunja are gradually blending together. The show has always left us wondering how this fusion leads to a harmonious connection, and that’s what we’re observing unfold little by little.
Seasons 1 and 2 of Pachinko, based on the novel by Min Jin Lee, are available to now on Apple TV+.
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2024-10-11 12:25