Pachinko

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How can a series likePachinkoland its season finale?

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Ill be honest, I was a little nervous about this episode.

It showed us the real-life stakes of the story weve been transfixed by for the last eight weeks.

Chapter Eight opens in 1938, where a young Noa encourages a schoolmate not to lose heart.

Isak explains that the celebration is not just for Mozasu but the whole family.

Noa quips that Mozasu should grab for the coin because of his appetite.

Isak never showed up to pick him up.

Sunja sends Noa to the biscuit factory to get Yoseb.

Isak gave them love, trust, pride, and hope.

Slowly, it becomes clear that Japan is on the verge of World War II.

Theres an ideological fervor, a danger about supposed anti-imperial sentiment that is beginning to bubble to the surface.

Sunja and Noa encounter the mysterious Hasegawa-san in a dark room, where the man is hiding from authorities.

It turns out Hasegawa-san is a professor and involved with the Communist party.

He and Isak worked together, fighting for the rights of people in Manchuria, Korea, and elsewhere.

Again, Noa translates between Hasegawas Japanese and his mothers Korean.

Here, the show deftly uses the subtitles it employed all season by taking them away.

Hasegawas Japanese is un-subtitled.

We, as an audience, only get Noas childish interpretation of what the man says.

The impression is one of mounting disorientation and dread, both on the part of Sunja and Noa.

Before the conversation can go much further, the police arrive.

Finally, Sunja is permitted to leave the station where Noa is waiting for her.

As the two leave the station, they happen upon Isak, who is being transported to another location.

Isak struggles to get to his son as well, but is ultimately taken away by the police.

Noa wakes up too but Sunja tells him to wait for her, that shell take care of them.

The next morning, Kyunghee finds Sunja making a huge batch of kimchi.

That morning, Noa walks to school and is approached by Koh Hansu in a brilliant white suit.

Koh apparently has been following him because he knows the routines and movements of Noas life.

At first, it seems the endeavor might be a failure.

Our heroine has a moment when she looks around at the crowd, overwhelmed, the sound filtering out.

Her eyes seem silvery, on the verge of tears, but then Sunja comes back into herself.

She steps into the throng, calling to passersby, selling her wares.

In 1989, Hana is dying.

Outside of Hanas room, Solomon tells Mozasu hes been fired.

Mozasu is incredulous; how could Solomon have thrown this opportunity away?

Solomon says he wants to work with Yoshii, and Mozasu is having none of it.

Yoshiis grandfather approached Mozasu when he was young; he knows what Yoshii might say to Solomon.

Solomon comforts Hana, who asks him to take care of her mother when shes gone.

Shes dying here, in this terrible room.

Hana tells Solomon she wants him to grab all that life offers without mercy.

Solomon then asks for one more favor, a favor for his friend.

Etsuko, Mozasu, the doctors and nurses are frantic, but Solomon is insistent.

Apparently, Yoshii filled out the paperwork to authorize Hanas move to the open air.

Solomon puts a lei around Hanas neck and says theyre going to Hawaii.

Later, Sunja approaches Solomon on the hospital roof, where he broods alone.

Somehow, the watch has returned to her possession (foreshadowing for next season, methinks!

), and she is giving it to Solomon.

In a different part of town, the Korean landowner does her homework, learning to read in Japanese.

Hes clearly intimidating her, sending her scurrying back into the safety of her home.

Now, if the episode had ended with these storylines, I would have been disappointed.

But then,Pachinkodid something Id never seen before.

These are real-life Sunjas.

We are reminded that this story isnt just entertainment but a political act of remembering.

The struggles and joys weve seen on screen are not hypotheticals but realities.

People often like to quote W.H.

But that line is misquoted.

In truth, Auden wrote, For poetry makes nothing happen; it survives.

In the meantime, happy watching, friends!