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cere-mon-ials · 4 months

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2023 in kdramas

*that i finished

**in order of how deep and lasting the brainrot was/is from barely a smidge to stitched to my soul

[12] I figured See You In My 19th Life would be trying when I couldn’t understand why an extraordinary individual in her 18th life—18 incredible lives lived over some of history’s most happening centuries—would fixate on one pesky schoolboy. I bought it because (a) Shin Hye-sun was selling it (b) the show tried to make it clear that while she remembered her past lives, it is not the same as living the one she is in. So when the young Ju-won meets Seo-ha, she is still a 12-year-old who happens to fall for a 9-year-old, except she has heightened emotional maturity.

The plot follows Ju-won, who is reincarnated as Ban Ji-eum, her 19th life after her 18th was cut short in a car accident with Seo-ha. Then, the show fumbles its own logic, unable to choose if the real gift is living in the present or remembering how we got there. We are told that Ji-eum is determined to fix the life she didn’t get to live as Ju-won and because Ju-won’s family and Seo-ha are still alive, that’s who she seeks out. She also finds a dear one from her 17th life. The twist is that the 18th life was meant to be a fated reincarnation of two lovers, who in their time—the first life—were wronged. In the end, when the sins are atoned for, Ji-eum loses the memories of her past lives. She is Ji-eum, smart and talented, daughter of an abusive man and born destitute, free of karmic obligations. But who is this Ji-eum? Who does she love? Why are the memories of everyone who knew her as the extraordinary Ju-won/Ji-eum so valuable and hers isn’t? Milquetoast writing and a genuine lack of interesting characters in the rest of the show.

[11] I didn’t finish the first season of Dr. Romantic because I had a violent reaction (derogatory) to Yoo Yeon-seok’s character. I went straight to the additional episode ft. Kim Hye-soo who is ~flails~ and warmed up to this fantastic ensemble, thanks to a YYS-less sequel. Season 3 is ambitious and follows the raggity crew of overworked doctors in a country hospital now coping with its expansion into an elite trauma centre. The show does neither this premise nor the incredible cast they managed to bring back together (at least four of who could demand three times what they were paid in S2) any real justice. It had all the ingredients and an emotional core that is most pleasing to me. Seriously, it was so good: in reaching for the Michelin stars of healthcare, ostensibly Kim Sabu’s legacy, both he and his colleagues find that they may need to reassess what he taught them. Look at the implications. Doldam is a hospital that has run for two seasons on the strength of close-knit interpersonal relationships in ways (some might accuse) hazardous to professional codes. Something's gotta give.

DRR S3 does not trust the emotional tensions that these ideas can provoke and instead, throws in spectacle after spectacle. A bloodbath on a ship carrying illegal migrants, a raging forest fire, a building collapse. And there are villains, written as yangs to yings, in a main character's father played by an actual trash person, and then groan a politician. I mean, the vagaries of ill fortune and death is right there. Isn’t that enough? Makes you wonder just how did Lee-Shin partnership accomplish what they did with HosPlay. Someone who loves DRR’s characters will sit through it. But it’s junk food.

[10] Lee Bo-young is a force in Agency. It's a tried and tested formula: a brilliant creative person with abandonment issues in fantastic clothes. I enjoyed the snippy dialogues, peppered with refreshing metaphor and irony reminiscent of vintage Hollywood flicks. The writing isn’t confident about what it wants to say about an ambitious single woman in a workplace (and other women too including working mothers, women who find no need in dressing up to do their jobs, expert women who still have to struggle when they want to build something). But perhaps you, like me, can let it pass. It is not ideal to fetch a real answer to women’s struggles amidst capitalist excess.

[9] Our Blooming Youth begins with a cursed prince (Park Hyung-sik) and a noblewoman (Jeon So-nee) accused of murdering her entire family joining hands to free each other. Lurking behind is a national conspiracy spearheaded by several degenerate officials who wish to erase a people and their history—interesting that OBY and My Dearest later in the year featured the most marginalised being branded as traitors. The prince and noblewoman (cross-dressed as a eunuch of course) are joined by four young individuals who feel a sense of duty. I adored this band and their shenanigans. The show is kind to the youth in question, to their capacity to chase freedom and friendship. I was moved by such love for characters in this story about nationhood as an ongoing project.

But enjoying OBY means reading in between the lines because the show doesn’t know what to do with its 20-episode length or the depth of its interest in the scars of unacknowledged genocide. I felt impatient and unfulfilled more times than I’d like. I wish OBY was more meaty because it had the opportunity to be radical and chose to be inoffensive. Hyung-sik, very dear to me. So-nee, GOSH. I have loved her since Encounter (2018) and she fills a frame like nobody’s business. If there is such a thing as female gaze, she’s got it. I caught her in the little I watched of Soulmate (2023) recently. A marvel, just like Kim Da-mi.

[8] One Day Off is whimsical and celebrates the mundane in eight chapters following the wanderings of a school teacher, played by the luminous Lee Na-young. Japanese entertainment does discovering minor joys and its everydayness so well that it’s a genre in itself. I have seen it in a handful Korean variety shows too. As a drama, this is new to me and ODO felt special. It giveth in multitudes taking us to a monastery, an art exhibit, a film festival, a planetarium, many bakeries. At other times, it puts us in the middle of a rainy day and ancestral rites and a bus station where the teacher is stuck with condescending boomers. It's lovely.

[7] King The Land benefitted from low expectations of prestige. Junho lovers were tuning in to see him frolic after his Baeksang-winning performance as King Jeongjo, I can’t speak for Yoon-A lovers. The makers wanted to bank on these beloved actors and there is minimal friction between who they are and what they play on-screen. Junho, handsome, rich, kind. Yoon-A, pretty, hardworking, warm. There is a good chance that this show was part of a joint marketing campaign by Dior and Estee Lauder. And also, possibly, Thailand's tourism department. KTL is classic popcorn, easy on the eyes, easy on the mind (save for that irritatingly stupid arc with the ‘Arab prince’), designed to be innocuous. Here’s the thing, though: the cast and crew were not messing around with that dough. They chose to inject this fan + consumer service with an earnest desire to entertain missers of fluff romance. Lee Junho, permanent resident of my heart.

[6] Going in with low expectations helped when I watched My ID is Gangnam Beauty too. Kang Mi-rae is starting college with a new face, having shed her old one at the surgeon’s table because of life-long bullying at being conventionally unattractive. But Mi-rae now has to deal with gossip and judgement about the extents she has gone for what’s deemed as a vanity project. When Mi-rae says that it matters what people think of her, I can't object. It’s because Gangnam Beauty tells a story about familiar feelings and yet, it is also defiantly about Mi-rae. You can walk with her but you’re aware that not all of us walk in her precise shoes, and it’s not about measuring who’s having it worse either. I loved watching her settle into her skin, remaining compassionate in whatever is the opposite of noble idiocy.

Very sweet romance. I may not have noticed Cha Eun-woo if I hadn’t been derailed to the hilt by him in Island—also a show I finished but you will not find it on this list For Reasons.

[5] I wanted to love My Dearest a lot more. It was promising what with Namgoong Min as the perfect Lee Jang-hyun and Ahn Eun-jin as the perfect Yoo Gil-chae. NGM’s ability to smirk in a way that elicits both a punch and a blush is unparalleled. He owns the role of clever playboy merchant who sees the rules of polite society as impositions and who values human life above platitudes. AEJ's Gil-chae is stubborn and witty and audacious and has no interest in anything that distracts her from her desires. I loved them, and that became one of my problems when Part 1 ended. NGM is the perfect Jang-hyun and AEJ is the perfect Gil-chae but I wasn’t able to root for their romance. I never quite got over how the desire that they shared, which war put a damper on before it got a chance to bloom, gets cheapened at the end of Part 1—please read @elderflowergin's excellent post about this. In Part 2, that conversation isn’t adequately addressed but I was there to watch these two actors earn their Baeksang nominations. I found myself willing to move with the tides when Jang-hyun and Gil-chae let each other in after they learn to devote themselves to the people who make their community.

I cannot fault MD, however, on its commentary about how war disrupts ordinary life. There is nothing more moving in the show than the Joseon slaves in Qing singing their songs and harvesting rice, yearning for home while the King and his scholars commit to preserving standing and write these countrymen off. It’s a sharp critique of an upper class that delude themselves about their importance. MD is courageous enough to say that the nation does owe something to its people and the nation must prove itself worthy of sacrifice before it can demand such a thing. I haven’t stopped feeling the pangs of this love letter to a people and their land. The first seven episodes, set during the invasion and in the early days of the Joseon surrender, is real television. It’s what I watch sageuks for.

What else? Great telling of Crown Prince So-hyeons’s story. Lee Chung-ah is captivating. MD would have risen in my heart and on this list if it were more attentive to Ryang-eum. Double amnesia was comically exhausting to watch but I do feel generous now. The first time round Jang-hyun regains his memory because of a tangible article that proved Gil-chae’s love for him. The second time he traces back the arc of his life that spawned enduring memories of love and dreams. He’s not looking to retrieve what he doesn’t know he has lost. He knows he has lost and he is piecing together what he can. That’s a bold note to conclude on by makers who have risen to question the state of a nation in the hands of incompetence and cruelty and obscene pride. The racism is unsurprising—I wish this meant that I had better tolerance for it. I also wish the story knew better than to push Eun-hye to the sidelines. My favourite scene is Gil-chae finding Jang-hyun clawing to life by a string on a pile of corpses and proceeding to play dead while holding him tight to escape.

[4] I kept tuning in to Moving week after week despite my reservations about high school life, superheroes, and gore because it is a feat of storytelling. A rewarding first act, an absorbing second, and a near perfect third. It’s a compelling story on its own about superhero parents who will go to any lengths to protect their superhero children. But it’s also poignant in how it tackles passive peace.

Critiques of the state’s abuse of power often turn fangless in the face of this idea about national security, the notion that secures our future. Writers fumble because they feel forced to provide an alternative: how else do we protect what we must? Moving kills the question by letting you see past that what (national security) and takes you to a who (our children, our literal future). It dismantles the illusions with its central stage as a highly-surveilled school where undercover secret agents observe and train gifted children. The litmus test isn’t going to be the abstraction of a nation. It’s going to be whether our children can grow up, can learn, can be free to be who they want to be, irrespective of talents they may or may not possess.

A state which can’t imagine freedom as such is a failed state and a failed state resorts to joining hands with those who have every interest in keeping us from seeing that we do in fact want the same things as our neighbours. The real world bleeds in when the story of two Koreas becomes apparent. It’s acutely observed in a way that’s trope-y but perhaps not untrue. But the show is more interested in the shared Koreanness, in their love for their children, and for the unimpeachable desire to make their lives better.

Park Hee-soon had me hugging myself from his first frame to the last. Electrifying performance. Han Hyo-joo, oh my god.

[3] My Lovely Boxer was made for me. It’s about Gwon-sook (Kim So-hye), a boxing prodigy who disappeared from public eye after failing to show up for a championship game and Tae-young (Lee Sang-yeob), a ruthless sports agent at the cross hairs of matchfixing. Tae-young has messes to clean, payments to make, and he finds Gwon-sook to bring her back to the limelight for one final game to lose. Gwon-sook wants nothing to do with the sport and Tae-young promises that if disappearing for good is what she wants, then this plan would work for her too. It’s exactly as angsty as it sounds.

The show works because it doesn’t touch a thing that it isn’t willing to gnaw into. It doesn’t merely dangle matchfixing as plot omen—it explores the emotional and economic damages for the sportsmen with heft. Gwon-sook feels no love for boxing but she isn’t the only boxer in the world and that feeling is hardly universal. One of my favourite characters this year is Ah-reum, the opponent of that championship game for which Gwon-sook didn’t show up. That day, Gwon-sook may have chosen to leave the game for self-preservation but she also took away Ah-reum’s right to fair play. MLB is at its best when it navigates Gwon-sook seeking Ah-reum’s forgiveness because therein lies sportsmanship and what it means to tirelessly push your body for a shot at the ring. It’s an exhilarating journey with these two girls because (a) you want Ah-reum to have her moment (b) you don’t want Gwon-sook to lose and let the matchfixing bookers pocket money (c) you begin to wish Gwon-sook could win because she is too good. The stakes are delicious because the bookers are also a tad bit murderous and the final match had me at the edge of my seat.

Lee Sang-yeob was a shock to my system with his intense stare and a thespian interpretation of a man in shades of grey. Sexy bitch. I want to see Kim So-hye and Shin Se-kyung play sisters one day.

[2] Into The Ring tops my list of kdrama romcoms. Nana is a star and the fact that Se-ra cannot walk straight to save her life makes me giggle. She is blunt in the wrong ways, sharp in the wrong ways, and honest in all the right ways. Her heart is big and she has a sense of service to the people around her as though she really believes she was raised by a village. I loved Se-ra’s parents who reminded me of my own in their warmth and clownery. Park Sung-hoon’s Gong-myung is the dream guy: competent at work, loser in everything else. There’s only one kind of valid workplace romance and it’s this: accidentally becoming an elected representative and your childhood nerd friend volunteering to be your secretary to cover your ass. Perfect, no notes.

I happened to be reading Sara Ahmed’s Complaint! around the same time and I think it made me love the show's take on political action more. This is where Se-ra begins, just her and her complaint diary. That early episode where it dawns on her that she wants this job as much as she needs it got to me. There’s much to love in a show that is okay with however small a population she represents, as long as they are fun about joy and serious about justice.

[1] At the outset, Call It Love sounded like the makjang I avoid—a relationship between a woman and the son of her father’s mistress? Turns out, it's possible to tell that story like an accomplished spare poem with meticulously composed frames overdoing headroom and pared down dialogues. In effect, CIL is beautiful to look at and inviting to spend time with. This is kdrama caviar. Debut writer Kim Ga-eun has a gift for writing loneliness and solitude as not mutually exclusive to being a loved and loving person. She’s drawn comparisons to the extraordinary Park Hae-young who is the master at this sorcery. To my mind, the comparisons hold merit in subject but they operate with different intentions and styles. I hope they meet one day and I get to be a fly on the wall.

I was struck by how Lee Sung-kyung played Woo-joo as the responsible middle child, the one most burdened by the timing of her family’s collapse. The show is about her revenge but often, you see her struggle with the coldness this demands of her. She cannot resist what comes easiest to her and that’s her ability to see people having bad times as a reflection of the times, not the people. It's why she can forgive the aggrieved man who harms her, and why she tidies Dong-jin’s ex’s house while the ex is recouping from the heartbreak of losing the same man she is falling in love with.

No one has gotten the allure of the quiet guy, the shy guy, the good guy who is too awkward to be nice like Kim Young-kwang has. Dong-jin knows he has to work very hard to keep up with the pace of the world. He knows his mind but is afraid to impose it, because he doesn’t think it matters and because he doesn’t want to be a bother. Young-kwang just gets that line between clarity and low-esteem. I will never forget his teary eyes and total submission to loving Woo-joo in the single word he lets out with a hitched exhale. He slouches a lot but he will look you in the eye when he has to say something he doesn’t want to repeat. I loved him for that dignity. Special kisses to him for ditching neck ties.

It is true pleasure to see two male leads, majestic and towering in physique, composed to look tiny and frail. At one point, the costume department steps up Woo-joo’s wardrobe as her feelings intensify and it doesn't come across as a makeover. It is presented as the ordinary consequence of paying attention. I loved everything and everyone. The siblings. The ex-girlfriend, the bad mother and also, the generous & kinda clueless one. The stepfather who lingered, the best friends, the loyal & competent manager lady. Favourite kiss.

I am currently watching four dramas: A Good Day To Be A Dog (cute & fun), My Demon (silly & fun), Park's Marriage Contract (testing my patience), and Tell Me That You Love Me (relishing but for some reason not investing). I missed Not Others and The Eighth Sense when they were airing and they are the two shows from 2023 that I am adding to my watchlist. I am looking forward to 2024 because we seem to be getting at least one release from several greats and beauties. See you then! I hope no one emails you for the rest of the year and you eat well.