The Morning Call

Adoptee strainer

Despite never acting before, audition tape caught director’s eye

- Amy Alkon

My boyfriend, who was adopted as an infant, just heard from his birth mom for the first time ever. She contacted him out of the blue, sending a perfectly nice message, not expecting anything from him. Instead of responding to it, he’s just sort of shutting down. Times are tough enough, and I don’t think it’s healthy to bottle up his feelings. However, whenever I point that out or ask him how he feels, he says he doesn’t want to talk about it. How can I help motivate him to process his feelings?

— Caring Girlfriend

We all have to deal with rejection, but most of us get our first taste of it at 6 years old, that is, not six minutes after a nurse cuts our umbilical cord.

Emotions are basically the helper elves of humanity. They evolved to motivate behavior to help ancestral humans survive, mate, and pass on their genes. We tend to see “negative” emotions like sadness and anger as damaging, but evolutiona­ry researcher Randolph Nesse, M.D., explains they are just as functional as “positive” emotions.

Negative emotions are the brakes for behavior that isn’t working for us. Though, these days, minor bad choices usually aren’t fatal, our psychology is calibrated as if they could be. The psychologi­cal operating system driving our behavior today is adapted for a harsh ancestral hunter-gatherer environmen­t. Say some Neanderbro had the brilliant idea that he’d catch wild game for dinner by asking it nicely to throw itself onto his spear. But say, after collecting only windblown dust on his spearhead, the emotions he felt were happiness and excitement. He’d stick with his hunting approach and end up dining on tree-bark rib-eyes, the culinary choice of people who slowly starve to death.

Though men get depressed just like women do, another evolutiona­ry researcher, psychologi­st Joyce Benenson, notes that men tend to be less emotionall­y sensitive than women, showing less fear and sadness from infancy on. Men are also less emotionall­y fluent, meaning they have trouble understand­ing exactly what they’re feeling, which, in turn, keeps them from being able to put names to their emotions. Though these seem like shortcomin­gs, they serve men’s evolved role as the “warriors” of our species. In combat, men would put themselves and their fellow warriors at risk if they jabber on about how terrified they are and plop down on the battlefiel­d for a good cry.

How does your boyfriend feel? Best guess: Emotionall­y overwhelme­d. If so, his “shutting down” makes sense. It’s basically the human version of overloaded electrical wiring triggering a circuit breaker in your house — as opposed to keeping the juice flowing and triggering an electrical fire, turning your home into a two-bedroom, two-bath pile of smoking ash.

Sigmund Freud, who saw having actual evidence to support his claims an unnecessar­y bother, drove the widespread assumption that “repression” — avoiding upsetting thoughts to prevent or minimize anxiety — is emotionall­y and physically destructiv­e. In fact, clinical psychologi­st Karin Coifman and her colleagues observe that there’s “a small and relatively inconsiste­nt body of evidence” that associates “repressive coping” with health costs.

Research increasing­ly suggests it can be “adaptive” — beneficial — for a person to direct their attention away from experience­s that cause negative feelings (especially negative feelings about themself ... say, like being “given up” for adoption). And the Coifman team’s own study finds that the “emotional dissociati­on” of repressive coping can actually lead to better adjustment, fewer health complaints, and “a less significan­t medical history.”

Consider, too, that men often “speak” through action rather than words. Your boyfriend is probably flooded with uncertaint­y about what he should do: contact his birth mom, meet with her, do nothing. You can help him — by being loving and supportive as he goes about this his way. If he still seems to be suffering a month from now, you might Google adoptee discussion boards and ask him whether you could give him the links. Reading about others’ feelings and experience­s could help him understand his own feelings and decide how he’ll proceed.

Ultimately, the emotional expressive­ness that comes naturally to many women is unnatural for many men. Benenson explains that women tend to bond through “sharing vulnerabil­ities” and soothe themselves by talking about their feelings, behavior that would leave most men feeling exposed and threatened. This provides helpful perspectiv­e on men’s seemingly counterpro­ductive reactions to bad stuff that happens. True story from one of my male friends: “A few years ago, I mentioned to my wife that there was a guy at work who was a real pain in the ass. She said, ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I said, ‘I just did.’ ”

Here are some things Alan Kim likes: Harry Potter. The song “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd. Legos. Vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles.

Acting? Yeah, he likes it. But he’s just as into playing video games or watching TV and going outside with his dog, an American Eskimo named Cream.

Alan is 9, so you can forgive him for not knowing if this whole Hollywood thing is for him yet. At the moment, however, he’s getting a lot of attention because he is one of the stars of the new movie “Minari,” an award-winning drama about a family of South Korean immigrants trying to build a life for themselves on a farm in rural Arkansas in the 1980s.

The movie, playing in theaters where open and on a special digital platform from distributo­r A24, features actors who are far more recognizab­le than Alan: The family’s patriarch is played by “The Walking Dead’s” Steven Yeun, and Yuh-Jung Youn — who is kind of like Korea’s Meryl Streep — co-stars as the grandmothe­r.

But it is Alan who has emerged as “Minari’s” breakout star. When the movie debuted at the Sundance Film Festival in early 2020, he turned up at every screening or interview dressed like a cowboy: Western hat, bandanna, boots and a sheriff ’s badge pinned on his suede vest.

“I had the cowboy boots from the movie,” Alan said, “and my mom was like, ‘Come on, wear this!’ ”

In his promotiona­l appearance­s for “Minari,” Alan has continued to show off his panache even over Zoom, rotating through a collection of dapper miniature blazers and starched shirts. For this interview from his family’s home in Irvine, California, he is wearing a pastel bow tie and collared shirt embroidere­d with seagulls and boats. While he may not be used to speaking about himself yet, he is comfortabl­e on video chat. He’s in the third grade but has been doing virtual school since March 2020.

On Instagram, he has “like, maybe 2,000 followers?” — but his parents run his account because “I don’t think I’m responsibl­e enough with it.”

Perhaps it was the adoration he was greeted with in Park City last year, but Alan seemed to have an idea that those numbers

might be going up soon. Asked if he expects he’ll be famous post-“Minari,” he answered enthusiast­ically and without haste: “Yes.”

And how will his life change? “I will have to stay inside all the time,” he said. Or, if outside: “I would have to wear a hoodie and full disguise!”

In “Minari,” Alan plays Daniel, a boy whose desire to run free through the Arkansas wilderness surroundin­g his family’s new trailer is restrained due to a heart murmur. He is forced to share his bedroom with his grandmothe­r, newly arrived from Korea, who makes him try traditiona­l herbal remedies he thinks taste revolting. Director Lee Isaac Chung needed a boy for the part who could pull off being both adorable and a hellion — “a kid who pees in his grandma’s tea and still somehow doesn’t come across terribly,” he said.

So with just six weeks, casting

director Julia Kim set out to find the perfect kid. She needed a child who was fluent in both English and Korean, and, of course, one who physically resembled the actors who’d already been hired to play his parents (Steven Yeun and Yeri Han).

“As you can imagine, that’s not a long database,” said Kim. Knowing she’d be unable to rely solely on young actors with talent representa­tion, she drew upon her connection­s within LA’s Korean American community. In Koreatown, Kim visited churches and after-school programs, asking administra­tors for permission to quietly observe from a distance.

To broaden the scope of her search, Kim decided to visit the office of a local Korean newspaper. The next day, the daily publicatio­n ran a notice about the “Minari” casting call that included a photograph of Youn, 73, an actor who is revered in

South Korea.

A couple of weeks later, emails started trickling in — one from Alan’s representa­tive at a boutique agency. He’d never acted before, something his audition tape made obvious. In it, Alan’s actions were exaggerate­d; when he pretended to take a bad-tasting medicine, he scowled and yelled in an overthe-top fashion.

“But I still kept watching his tape because I found him so funny,” said Chung, the director. “I was kind of worried about whether or not he could take direction, and needed to see if he could do things in a more natural way instead of a stage way. And he does. There’s such an honesty to what he’s doing.”

Alan’s mother, Vicky, was on set for the entire 25-day shoot, fanning her son when temperatur­es soared above 90 degrees and keeping his juice box collection well stocked.

Vicky used hand motions to help Alan remember his lines and reminded him not to rush, “because if the words came too fast, the scene would have to be done again,” he said she told him.

But because Alan’s mother was more comfortabl­e speaking Korean, the film’s second assistant director, Steve Hannan, became another vital on-set Alan-whisperer. Hannan — who has a son around Alan’s age — noticed early on that the young actor was becoming “a little kinetic” between takes during his six-hour days.

“So I took it upon myself to keep him positive about the whole experience,” Hannan said. “I’m a big guy, so I would put him up on my shoulder or let him crawl on my back. But I tried to talk to him like a profession­al, pointing out things about set etiquette.”

Which isn’t to say that the then-7-year-old got special treatment. Because of his experience working in print advertisem­ents, he knew that being on a set meant “he had to be serious,” Chung said.

“And we had to keep that atmosphere going for him to respect him as a profession­al,” the director said. “After a couple of days, we set the rule that no one baby talks to him or overly celebrates when he does a great take or something. Treat him like a pro, and he’s going to act like a pro.”

In June, Alan will start filming his second movie, a dark comedy called “Latchkey Kids.”

“The choices he makes now are really important,” said Kim, the casting director. “… If you have a kid like Macaulay Culkin, you keep sending them in for the same thing, and it gets stale after a while. It’s about surprising the audience and letting him stretch his wings as an actor. Alan was the perfect fit for this film, but he also has the chops to have longevity.”

NEW YORK — When we last saw Franklin Saint, he had problems, not least of which was three fresh bullet wounds. As season three of “Snowfall” ended, rivals were circling his minidrug empire and violence levels were up.

“After being shot three times, he’s completely broken, not only physically but spirituall­y and in his mind, too,” says Damson Idris, who portrays the canny Saint. “So season four is him rebuilding himself.”

The new season kicked off Feb. 24 and opens on New Year’s Eve in 1985 with crack ravaging the streets of South Central Los Angeles and the CIA using drug money to fuel its influence in Latin America.

Idris hopes the new episodes can both enchant current fans and attract new ones. “I think the work we’re doing on this show is going to be spoken of alongside the likes of ‘The Wire’ and ‘The Sopranos,’ which would be a huge privilege in my opinion,” he said by phone from London.

The FX series was co-created by the late John Singleton and keeps the Oscar-nominated director’s authentici­ty and ability to tell a large story from a small one. “Snowfall” is ambitious in its attempt to talk about both crack and the Contras.

“His legacy lives on,” said Idris. “I remember that he would talk to me about Nina Simone and how Nina Simone said that the artist’s job is to reflect the times. In my opinion, Singleton reflected the times. And that’s the legacy and footsteps I hope to follow in.”

“Snowfall” touches on police brutality, media influence, real estate, U.S. politics, secret wars, corruption and how crack in three years turned South Central from a working-class neighborho­od to a war zone with bars on windows.

“The show is so much bigger than Franklin Saint in South Central. I think it’s a show for a global audience,” said Idris. “It’s educationa­l alongside of being entertaini­ng.”

Dave Andron, co-creator, showrunner and an executive producer, said season four will up the violence levels as the war on drugs takes hold, prompting scare tactics and the militariza­tion of police.

“It is obviously very tragic and yet really rich, fertile ground,” he said. “There’s a real scope and spine to this thing. It’s incredible that it hasn’t been told in this way before.“

The new season opens with Saint struggling after being shot. He uses a cane and prescripti­on pain pills, wincing at simple tasks like putting on clothes. But when a rival calls him soft and weak, another warns: “Boy’s brain still work.”

On the streets, demand for crack is soaring and competitio­n is fierce. Saint is tempted to get out of the game but knows that’s not an option. “What I know for sure is, if we bail, there’ll be chaos,” he says. “I have to stay and fight.”

“He’s proven to everyone that he isn’t the strongest. He isn’t impenetrab­le. He isn’t James Bond,” said Idris. “Everyone is seeing Franklin in a weak state, and for that reason, he’s being questioned.”

Andron said viewers are being rewarded for their trust in Idris, who was an unknown English actor when first cast in “Snowfall.”

“He’s just an incredible talent and he commands the screen. He obviously has a long, long, long career ahead of him,” said Andron. “It’s been an incredible process to watch him be the guy who can put the show on his back.”

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 ?? JOSH ETHAN JOHNSON/A24 ?? Steven Yeun, from left, Alan Kim, Yuh-Jung Youn, Yeri Han and Noel Cho in Lee Isaac Chung’s “Minari.”
JOSH ETHAN JOHNSON/A24 Steven Yeun, from left, Alan Kim, Yuh-Jung Youn, Yeri Han and Noel Cho in Lee Isaac Chung’s “Minari.”
 ?? BYRON COHEN/FX ?? “Snowfall,” with Damson Idris, is set in the 1980s as crack ravages South Central LA and the CIA uses drug money to fuel its influence in Latin America.
BYRON COHEN/FX “Snowfall,” with Damson Idris, is set in the 1980s as crack ravages South Central LA and the CIA uses drug money to fuel its influence in Latin America.

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