I apologize for my English

It is not easy to “define” the genre of this series. And it is not easy to put into words the emotionality it left behind.
Because “The Trunk” is figurative, it represents the soul and the journey, arrival and departure. It represents short-term and long-term memory. It represents the expertise developed in the perilous ways of life. “The Trunk” is everyone's black hole into which we throw, voluntarily and involuntarily, what we call “junk” for our psyche. At the same time, it is the place where we store the “scents” and “sensations” that define being “alive.”
Few times do trailers deflect expectations so profoundly, and even fewer times is the product so memorable to the point of countering those unmet expectations.
However, viewing the series requires a fair amount of mental stability so that one does not passively endure the tidal wave of emotionalism, which is brutal, raw, cynical, and intimate for long stretches.
Once again, Korean scriptwriters, actors, and actresses are extremely skillful in portraying the dark side of the human soul. Depictions that are never grotesque but almost always “disturbing” because they are extremely real or realizable. The negative in the series is not utopian but sadly anchored in reality.
From the first moments, the rhythms are deep, psychically tribal, flanked by music and settings that support the “dark” and “noir” framework of the plot. High praise to the music, it enters directly into assonance with 21 grams and leads the mind to live the optical experience firsthand. Special mention to the architecture of the protagonist's house, initially I interpreted it as the bony cavities of birds. Large spaces of emptiness encompassed in “slender” but strong structures. This impression changed as the plot progressed. After the first few episodes, with the knowledge of the protagonist's “illusions,” the house's architecture became a representation of the encephalon, with its bright places and cramped spaces in which memories lurk. To then become, until the end of the series, the soul, the “the trunk” of the protagonists, but also the curse that each one hides inside. And it is on this last development that the architecture and interiors reach the pinnacle of visual representation. From the “hallucinogenic” chandelier to the spiral ramp/slide in the “Archimedes screw” imagery of the involution and evolution of the soul. Even the materiality of the walls, rough, and porous, marry the essence of beauty to perfection. The unpolished, the need to come to appreciate the essence only through consciously experiencing suffering.
And this catharsis, emblematic but not sensational, again, not utopian but realistic, envelops the protagonists, whom I identify in four characters. The main couple consists of Seo Hyun Jin (the wife, No In Ji) and Gong Yoo (the husband, Han Jeong Won). The second couple was composed of Jung Yun Ha (the first wife, Lee Seo Yeon, of Gong Yoo) and Jo Yi-geon (the husband, Yoon Ji-o, of Gong Yoo's first wife).
A masterful performance by Seo Hyun Jin, a soul troubled by the most intimate betrayal and the perpetuation of the most visceral social bullying. Wife by “contract,” detached, seemingly emptied of feelings and emotions. Polished beauty that unfolds becoming pure roughness, pure emotion, warm.
Gong Yoo confirms the acting prowess already appreciated on the big and small screen over the years. Here we find him in a mature, complete, confident acting guise. He enacts the “lost” and “hallucinated” soul of a son “psychologically raped” by his father, family, life, and everyone but especially himself. Fascinating his “chase” to rebirth, nothing superhuman, everything rough, harsh, bitter, true, and alive.
Special mention to Jung Yun Ha, the charming first wife of Han Jeong Won, intelligent, cunning, bewitching, a mantis in the body of a "Medusa". This chimerical image formed in my mind as the episodes passed. And as a "Medusa", she is the cause of her demise, her pain. It does not retreat in its treachery, its viciousness, its brutality of control and domination over everything and everyone.
Jo Yi-geon, victim and perpetrator, accomplice and protagonist, fits perfectly into this trio of characters. In the space, marginal to the trio, she best expresses her acting characteristics in staging the brutality of being used while experiencing the darkest love.
Interspersed with them is the avowed “villain,” Kim Dong Won (No In Ji's stalker Um Tae Seong), who cynical viciousness does not let on but portrays it without physical reins and with extreme reasoning. Ratiocination disarms the viewer because its brutality is not embellished but is naked, unadorned, and internal to those who perform adorable pastry gems.
“The Trunk” represents a psycho-social journey of destruction and rebirth, with this phoenix-like soul leading us in questioning ourselves about being protagonists of our own lives, with mercy and compassion for ourselves.
Finally, as sleet, hope and “forgiveness” appear.