Animation
The Legend of Vox Machina
When it comes to being suitable for families, Amazon Prime’s The Legend of Vox Machina failed its saving throw.
The family tree. We’ve all heard of the phrase, perhaps seen our own families sketched out as one. And it seems so apt. We grow from a common source. Our own progeny branch and leaf and branch again. Families, like trees, are living things—sprouting, twisting, reaching, sinking.
And just as is the case with trees, the environments in which our families root and grow can shape them. Can stunt them. Can help them flourish.
So we see in Pachinko.
Apple TV+’s Pachinko chronicles four generations of a Korean family—a narrative arc that spans more than eight decades. The narrative hops back-and-forth across those decades at will, slipping from 1915 Yeongdo (Korea) to 1945 Osaka (Japan) to 1989 Tokyo.
Characters come and go in such a story, of course. They’re born. They die. They disappear and return. But if we could point to one character who threads this narrative quilt together, it’d be Sunja.
We meet her as a bright-and-vivacious teen living in Japan-controlled Korea. In time, she’s seduced by a young crime lord, then marries a Protestant minister, then tries desperately to keep her two children fed during World War II. She survives to see 1989 and watch her son, Baek Mozasu, open a string of pachinko parlors and her grandson, Solomon, turn into a charismatic, mercurial and oft-disgraced businessman. This family matriarch forms the spine of Pachinko’s family tree, the heartwood from which everything else springs.
But throughout the entire saga, other elements push against this family tree like wind and rock. And the biggest? Mighty Japan.
Sunja was born in a Korea ruled by the island nation. She moves to Japan with her husband before World War II—one of many families to do so—and spends much of the rest of her life there, presumably, dealing with Japanese discrimination every step of the way.
In a scene from the first episode of Season Two, an elderly Sunja tries to pick up a cake from the grocery store, circa 1989—and discovers that it’s far too small. The Japanese baker blames her for the mistake: “You should just learn how to speak the language properly,” he says, suggesting there are other stores “for people like you.”
Throughout the show, we see how various members of Sunja’s Korean circle deal with that prejudice: meek acceptance, obstinate pride, subtle rebellion. Many take Japanese names and do their best to hide their heritage or blend in. Sometimes, Koreans reveal their heritage to each other in covert community—like Christians might risk in a hostile country. Koreans are revealed by singing a treasured, traditional song. Or enjoying a much-loved dish. Or scrawling their secret, little-used Korean name inside a book hastily exchanged.
And the show itself seems just as careful, and its interactions with its characters just as poignant and precise.
But things get messy all the same.
Pachinko is rated TV-MA, though about 80% of the time it doesn’t deserve it. Romances can turn into steamy eroticism, but scenes steer clear of outright nudity. We see and hear about sexual assault, as well. Much of the story takes place during World War II, so the threat of bombing and attack can be pervasive. And even without the threat of a foreign invasion, the streets are none-too-safe themselves. Language—most of it in Japanese or Korean with English subtitles—can be harsh, but only sporadically so.
But if Pachinko doesn’t assault your eyes and hears with peppered content issues, the themes feel very adult indeed. Suicide and sex work show up in the story. Drinking and drug use crash the party as well. Some characters are tied to organized crime, and even some of the most honorable break laws in desperation. And, of course, the scourge of discrimination spans the story—from the early days of the 20th Century to the last, heaving gasps of the go-go ‘80s.
The story itself is riveting, if you can keep its many threads and characters straight. This Apple TV+ show does a masterful job of bringing American viewers into lands halfway around the world and making us care about its characters. Family lies at the saga’s core, and often the family members we see act honorably, and sometimes sacrificially. By most accounts, it embodies the 2017 novel on which it is based (written by Min Jin Lee) well.
But the game pachinko is a game of chance—and watching Pachinko can itself be a gamble.
(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at [email protected], or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out.)
The story toggles between 1945 Osaka and 1989 Tokyo. In the first timeline, Sunja struggles to keep her two sons fed as resources in Japan dwindle during World War II. She ultimately finds an unlikely benefactor: Hansu, the gangster who seduced her years before (and fathered Sunja’s first child). In 1989, Solomon—Sunja’s grandson—tries to raise money for a risky business proposition. But investors shy away from loaning him money since scandal hangs over him.
In the earlier timeline, Hansu offers to sweep Sunja and her family away to the safety of the countryside. Sunja refuses, insisting she’ll wait for her pastor husband—who’s been missing for seven years—to return.
Hansu attends a dinner filled with, presumably, Yazuka (Japanese organized crime lords), and one talks about the risks of crossing Hansu. “It seems everyone knows what happens when you are displeased, Koh-san,” the guest says. “I prefer keeping all my limbs.”
American warplanes fly over Osaka and drop leaflets, imploring citizens to encourage their government to give up. Japanese officials train citizens in battle tactics, prepping for the inevitable American invasion. (One of Sunja’s sons stabs at a straw dummy with enthusiasm.) We hear about the inevitable bombings that are to come.
A woman bears bruises on her arms—from an abusive husband, it’s suggested. (We later hear her crying and her husband yelling behind closed doors.)
Sunja, in an effort to feed her kids, starts making contraband rice wine with another woman. Her oldest son, Noa, declares his desire to be a pastor, just like his father. He reads a banned book: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.
In 1989, Solomon shares a drink with an old friend, and we later hear that the friend used to pick his nose. Solomon’s father opens a new pachinko establishment.
Characters are subject to discrimination in both timelines. Sunja’s sons are mocked for their taste in food and for smelling like garlic. One bully tells his classmates that Noa sleeps with pigs. (Noa sits still, trying not to acknowledge the insult.) In the present, a Japanese baker blames a mistake on elderly Sunja for not speaking Japanese well enough.
We hear (or rather, read) one f-word. Words such as “a–,” “b–tard” and “h—” also make sporadic appearances.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
When it comes to being suitable for families, Amazon Prime’s The Legend of Vox Machina failed its saving throw.
Occult themes aren’t the only elements viewers must be mindful of in Disney+ & Marvel’s ‘Agatha All Along.’
The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power returns for its second season, full of characters and bloodshed alike.
Doctor Odyssey stars a medical team working on a cruise ship, but it cares far more for romance than it does for its patients.
Our weekly newsletter will keep you in the loop on the biggest things happening in entertainment and technology. Sign up today, and we’ll send you a chapter from the new Plugged In book, Becoming a Screen-Savvy Family, that focuses on how to implement a “screentime reset” in your family!
