Power of Kindness and Connections!

We’ve seen many times how one life touches so many, and how one act of kindness can be like a pebble dropped into a pond. Its ripples stretching all the way across. People should never underestimate what one act of kindness can do for someone. We never know if a smile, a kind word, or act might will have an effect that we can’t possibly predict or fathom.

Life is about connections. Connecting with ourselves as well as connecting with others. Chihiro is a former sex worker who now works at a small bento shop in a seaside town. Initially, a person may scoff at her former life as a sex worker and judge her as someone of little/no value. Ah! How often do we judge a book by its cover? The film invites us to understand how a connection and a small act of kindness can help someone in need, while also learning how to dispel our own judgments about people.

The film opens with Chihiro paying attention to and playing with a cat. Initially, one might wonder why this is such a compelling scene. Because more often than not, how a person treats animals is often an insight into how a person treats people. Chihiro greets the customers warmly, and we can see her warmth is genuine. It isn’t fake or an attempt to win anyone over. It’s simply how she interacts with others.

Throughout the course of the film, we find Chihiro helping a variety of people. An old, homeless man down by the waterfront. She brings him a meal, gives him some company as they eat, and even invites him into her home so that he can have a bath. And sadly, when she’s looking for him in order to bring him another meal, she finds that he has died behind a small fence, and she takes the time to give him a proper burial in the middle of the night.

Chihiro also befriends a couple of high school girls who see themselves as outcasts within their own families. Chihiro treats them with kindness, accepting them fully as they are. Kuniko is one of these girls who’s basically told what to do in a family home with little warmth. When she’s given a meal by a single mother—as a means of gratitude for helping her son—Kuniko breaks down in tears, overwhelmed that she’s found more warmth from this stranger than she’s possibly received in her own home.

Chihiro also has to deal with the same, single mother who is outraged that Chihiro has been feeding and spending time with her son, Makoto, a lonely boy who has to spend much of his time fending for himself because his mother works. When the boy gets an idea from a TV commercial to buy flowers for his mother, the mother wrongly accuses of Chihiro of being behind it. After having the flowers thrown in her face, Chihiro calmly hands the flowers back, telling the mother that she will be making a huge mistake if she doesn’t accept the flowers and to see her son for what he is: a kind but lonely little boy who simply wants to show his mother how much he loves her.

Lastly, Chihiro also interacts with a woman in a hospital who has recently lost her eyesight. Little does the woman know that Chihiro is the woman she’d briefly had an encounter with, it becomes apparent that the woman is more of a mother to Chihiro than Chihiro’s own.

Chihiro is like a breath of fresh air, a gentle rain, a beam of sunshine as we quickly discover how she interacts and touches the lives of the various souls around her. Nothing about her is superficial or fake. She’s asked by her friend and former co-worker in the sex trade why she’s never fallen in love. It becomes apparent that Chihiro does not find romantic relationships appealing, largely due to their selfishness and propensity to strip a person of their freedom to be who they are.

Kasumi Arimura is a true delight in this film, and she shines brightly on the screen as she invites the viewer to look past her past. A person isn’t necessarily their job. How they treat others and interact with them counts the most. And like a passing rain—seeing that her job is done—she moves on to the next town, the next job, spreading her joy for life to everyone she meets. She takes pride in small moments of sitting on the dock in the sun or standing barefoot in the water.

I also found it interesting when I looked it up that Chihiro means, “A thousand questions.” This name is appropriate as one might have a thousand questions about her, but find that much like the wind, she can’t be pinned down to one thing or perhaps even grasped. Everyone could use a “Chihiro” in their life, and hopefully, everyone can try just a bit harder to be a Chihiro for others.

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Underwhelming, Cliche-Riddled "Fairy Tale" That We've Seen So Many Times Before!

I’m not sure why I continue to fall into the trap of watching these romantic dramas that overuse cliches that have been done hundreds of times before. It’s the biggest reason why I stopped watching American romantic comedies because they’re mostly all the same. However, perhaps it’s because I’ve seen enough refreshing takes on the genre in K-Dramas that I remain hopeful, that there are still a few gems out there. This series isn’t one of them.

Once again, we have the super-wealthy man who swoops in for the plain working girl. We’ve seen this duo so many times, that it’s literally become tiresome. It’s also insulting that women today—in any part of the world—are made to feel that the “jackpot” is still the rich man. Look around, and you’ll probably find that many such relationships don’t last or end well.

There is little innovation or creativity in this series. It’s about as predictable as you could imagine. It follows this predictable formula: wealthy son has a problem, so he’s a bit of a recluse. Wealthy son has a parent who is unhappy with him and, of course, he disapproves of the girl he likes and is told to get rid of her. Always a power struggle between the guy and a sibling or rival. Regular girl doesn’t have much self-esteem and struggles to make ends meet. Regular girl begins to question her value as soon as any objection is made against her, especially by his parents. Wealthy guy miraculously recovers from his problem, usually with the help of the girl, and we see him begin to soften and see life in a different way. Wealthy man treats the girl to many exotic events that nobody could possibly experience (bought out restaurants, amusement parks, lavish hotel rooms, etc.) as if this is the only way to enjoy each other’s company. Everything is miraculously wrapped up in the last episode so that everything ends on a happy note.

What we end up having is a very predictable series where we already know what’s going to happen from the very start. This formula is used in nearly every Hallmark movie ever made. In fact, I wondered if the writer stole their template to use for this series. It wouldn’t surprise me.

The series could have been brave and chosen to go off in a totally different direction. Perhaps the guy gives up his wealth to pursue his own dreams and happiness. Or how about this? Why can’t the woman be the wealthy one and the guy be the regular shmo? Because culturally, we still live in a world where women continue to believe that ultimate happiness lies with a wealthy man, which is beyond sad. It’s pathetic because it’s so completely untrue.

Gu Won (Lee Jun Ho) is the reclusive son of a wealthy company and hotel owner. His mother suddenly disappears from his life at a young age, and he doesn’t trust people who smile. He views such actions as fake as well as insulting as if the person is hiding their true feelings. He’s not entirely wrong. There is nothing so superficial as a fake smile. He comes back to Korea after years in the UK to learn the business, even though at first, he has no interest in taking over.

Cheon Sa Rang (Im Yoon Ah) is a young woman who’s always dreamed of working at the King Hotel. It’s a place of warm memories from when she was a child, and because of her customer service skills, she finds herself moving up the ladder to King the Land—an exclusive VIP floor of the hotel, only for the very richest of people who demand special service. She’s very good at her job, and when she’s asked to interview Gu Won for a promotional scheme, of course, there is immediate friction, especially when he demands that she stop smiling.

As you can already guess, these two are whisked away alone (you have to hand it to the writers who scheme to come up with some plausible way to force these two characters to be alone in order to break the ice!), and they begin to learn about each other. The sad part is that by the end of the third episode, Gu Won miraculously recovers from his problem of seeing people smile. This is an area that could have, and should have, been explored much more thoroughly than it was. This was a missed opportunity.

Cheon Sa Rang has two other friends who both work under the same company. Kang Da Eul works at a duty-free shop. And Oh Pyung Hwa is a flight attendant. All three women are very immature, cowardly, and weak. Wallflowers are never attractive or appealing. Sa Rang constantly allows herself to be abused at work. Kang Da Eul is abused by her in-laws and husband. It’s sad that her little girl has more maturity than she does. And Oh Pyung Hwa has her past held against her, and she’s also abused by the pilot and co-workers. None of them ever speak up and stand up for themselves.

To be fair, Korea is arguably the most competitive country in the world. And what we see is a very cutthroat mentality in which workers are expected to fall-in and do whatever they’re told without argument or complaint. This leads to a hierarchy of those above abusing those below. In one of the high points of the series, Gu Won attempts to correct this oversight. His plan is for companies to appreciate their employees and to treat them as valuable commodities rather than throwaways. This is a philosophy that is sorely needed in today’s world, but perhaps especially in Korea. This point was actually my favorite aspect of the series, so it wasn’t a total loss.

Lee Jun Ho is the glue of this series. He has a very natural acting style that makes you appreciate his acting chops in nearly every scene that he’s in, and in many ways, he single-handedly prevents this “ship” from sinking completely.

I’ve always loved Kim Young Ok (Grandma) who dazzled us in “Hometown Cha Cha Cha” as well as “Tomorrow.” She’s a true delight in everything she does. I smiled when I saw her in her first scene.

Im Yoon Ah is the weak link in this series. this woman is like a Jekyll and Hyde actress. She's either upbeat, bubbly, and warm, or she's cold, rude, aloof, and indifferent. She has no other "speeds" which is why her range isn't very good. She has no clue how to build up a scene. She can only hit one button or the other, which really hurts her performance. Too often, she looks uncomfortable in scenes where she shouldn't be. I found it ironic that she’s the last one to smile in the wedding of the last episode. She looked so uncomfortable, and it showed. She has a good grin, but she hardly has “the best smile.” Her performance is very inconsistent and lacking believability in many scenes. I certainly won’t be watching any more series that showcase this actress. She’s decent at best.

Kim Sun Young plays Gu Hwa Ran, Gu Won’s sister, even though she looks more like his mother. While she played the character well, Gu Hwa Ran is way too one-dimensional. This was another character that should have been explored with much more depth.

Finally, we have Ah Se Ha playing No Sang Sik (Gu Won’s assistant). There is a fine line between playing the idiot and playing the funny man. The buffoon is rarely appealing, and the Thailand trip was cringeworthy and easily my least favorite part of the series. It takes someone with real acting chops to toe the line between being annoying and funny. He was easily my least favorite character of the series, making me question why he was there.

I prefer series like “Business Proposal” that showcased strong, mature women who could fend for themselves. Women who didn’t act like wallflowers who wilt under every kind of pressure, which is what we have here. “Hometown Cha Cha Cha,” “Our Beloved Summer,” “Touch Your Heart” and “Love To Hate You” were vastly superior to this series. These writers really need to start thinking outside the box instead of hammering us with the same plots and weak characters that have been done to death.

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Lackluster and Ultimately Disappointing Series With Cowardly Characters!

By the time you reach the last few episodes, the series becomes like a plate of mushy carrots. You choke them down just to get through them, so you can move on to something better.

I’m going to start this review by saying that Shin Hye Sun is one of my favorite actresses, and I started watching this series because I saw that she was in it. However, I will say that this is the worst series that I’ve seen with her. It’s not her fault, however. As always, she gives an illustrious performance, given the lackluster and convoluted story and a very unappealing character in Cho Sam Dal.

The series is pretty solid through about the first eight episodes or so, but then it’s all downhill from there. No, it’s actually more like dropping off a cliff because the lack of story, quality, and direction, are suddenly nowhere to be found.

Cho Samdal is a prominent photographer, rising to near the top of stardom as one of the most sought-after photographers in the business. She photographs model and celebrities. Her protégé torpedoes Samdal’s career, forcing her to retreat to Jeju Island, where she is from. She hates the island, viewing it as a primitive locale where no one can possibly succeed in anything. What we end up having is a character who whines, drinks, and cries—often in that order too! At heart, she’s a true coward and unable to deal with her thoughts, feelings, or desires as well as her inability to stand up for herself. There is very little that is actually appealing about Cho Samdal.

Cho Young-Pil is a weather man based on Jeju Island and Samdal’s former boyfriend. Young-Pil is a man dealing with the tragic death of his mother—a haenyeo diver (women who dive for mollusks and other sea life) eight years prior. At the start, all we know is that Young-Pil and Samdal broke up, leaving the viewer to question why the breakup occurred as well as who instigated it. We find that one of the most cowardly characters of the entire series is Sang Tae, Young-Pil’s father.

A drowning man will always try to pull someone down, and Sang Tae is the spitting image of a man so lost within his own grief, that he sabotages Young-Pil and Samdal’s relationship. He holds Samdal’s mother responsible for the death of his wife, despite the two women being the best of friends. What is sad is that Young-Pil never really confronts his father about his irrational and self-destructive behavior. Even when Sang-Tae is verbally abusing Samdal, Young-Pil simply stands there without offering any defense or attempt to pacify. Sang Tae is a man who can’t see anything beyond his own pain, which literally mars and threatens to destroy the true memory and love of his wife. However, nobody bothers to even bring up this point with him. He spends his time drinking and sulking. The ultimate coward is the one who won’t let go.

In the midst of this, Go Mi-ja (Samdal’s mother) is suffering from a heart condition, which we might well connect with her own grief and guilt. I found her character the most appealing, and I wished the story had focused more on her and the friendship she shared with Young-Pil’s mother.

One side-story that was also far more appealing than the main one, involved Hae Dal Cho, the youngest sister and widow of Samdal. Her interactions with Ji Chan—a dolphin expert—were sweet and far sweeter than anything between Samdal and Young-Pil. I would have preferred a story surrounding her than Samdal.

By the end of the series, we have a cast of characters who are largely cowards at heart. Samdal is unable to deal with her past or even truly fight for her future. Doormats are only appealing because you can wipe your feet on them, and yet Samdal allows her protégé to use her as one three times throughout the course of the story. Samdal only wags her finger at her protégé, which does absolutely nothing. And I’m not entirely sure why Samdal would allow her ex-boyfriend to work with her after he betrayed her. So many things in this series made absolutely no sense at all.

It's sad how everyone believes that a “better life” must be in Seoul rather than in Jeju. I would have preferred seeing everyone make a success in Jeju, rather than treating it as the hindquarters of Korea where success goes to die. Who said you have to go to a big city in order to be successful? Not only is this deluded thinking, it’s also untrue. Samdal only succeeds in revealing her level of immaturity by how much disdain she has for her hometown.

Also, are you seriously going to tell me that someone with her wealth and notoriety doesn't have an attorney on retainer?! That was about the most ridiculous thing of this series as if the writer had no clue!

The writer and director clearly had no idea where to take the story, and we have everything magically being resolved within the last few episodes without any viable explanation. Samdal doesn’t bail herself out. Everyone else does it for her, leaving the viewer to realize that she’s still never grown up or known how to take care of herself. True strength isn’t as much about helping someone out of trouble as it is about helping them figure out how to get themselves out of trouble! The story would have been far better served had they chosen that road.

Despite having some truly hilarious moments—especially the seaweed fight—Samdal is just a very annoying and largely unlikable character. She acts like a 14-year-old child most of the time. She gets angry with Young-Pil over the smallest things. She peeks at him through her bedroom window, and then gets angry when he confesses his feelings for her. She then runs off like a scared child and barricades herself in a shed because she can’t deal with any challenges or forms of confrontation. She’s about as big of a coward as you will ever find! I also lost count of how many times she hits Young-Pil. It was supposed to be humorous, but by the tenth or eleventh blow, it just becomes silly and tiresome.

Given the great cast and acting performances that this series had, it’s a real shame that it was all wasted on this unappealing story, which lacked both charm and sophistication.

I went back and watched “Our Beloved Summer” again just to get the bad taste of this series out of my mouth. I wanted to revisit a series that was well written with smart, likeable characters, because this series just doesn’t have either one. “Welcome to Samdal Ri”? More like, stay away!

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Extremely Promising Series Utterly Destroyed in the Last Two Episodes!

I'm not sure if there is anything worse in television shows where you invest time in a series that is going really great for you, and then it collapses like a house of cards at the very end.

When you destroy the ending of a series, it destroys the series itself, regardless of how good things were before. That is just a fact. The only reason my original score of "9" didn't go down to "1" is because the performances and literally 11 of the 13 episodes were really good. The last two episodes were so bad that I nearly gave up the series on the spot.

Two people suffering from mental issues end up living next door to each other. Min-Kyung is suffering from extremely low self-esteem and is the victim of abuse. It's also very clear that she does not like herself. Hwi-Oh is a cop on suspension who is trying to deal with anger management issues. The premise is quite good, setting up some very humorous scenarios between the two.

However, as I stated above, the last two episodes are costly to the series, as if the writers piece-mealed everything together to make a horrific picture.

First, Hwi-Oh is not a very good cop or even a realistic one. He allows Min-Kyung to go into an abandoned building by herself. He also doesn't find it remotely suspicious that the abandoned building is occupied.

Min-Kyung swaps from loving Hwi-Oh to helping him to abandoning him, to loving him, to moving away within the span of two episodes. Of course, this doesn't even serve as a red flag to any sane person that this is a person to stay as far away from as possible. Not to mention the "no explanation" of the capture of Min-Kyung's abusive boyfriend at the very end. It would have been more credible to have a fairy appear out of thin air and scream, "That's him!" instead. It was also laughable to see Hwi-Oh chasing after Min-Kyung not once, but TWICE! And, of course, Min-Kyung changes her mind more rapidly and suddenly than a jackrabbit on a hot date! By all intensive purposes, even after the series ended, one has to wonder if she'd already changed her mind about Hwi-Oh...again!

The car chase scene was beyond absurd as Hwi-Oh rolls down his window and tells the ex-boyfriend to pull over with an unconscious Min-Kyung in the passenger seat. Again, not a very bright cop. Especially when he jumps on the hood of the car. When did this become like a bad 70s/80s action flick?!

We also have a crime plot that miraculously resolves itself in the span of about five minutes!

Also, one of the silliest things I have ever seen was Min-Kyung's reaction to Hwi-Oh beating up her sadistic ex-boyfriend as well as the fact that as a cop, the officer interrogating Hwi-Oh at the station could have easily looked into the ex-boyfriend's record. Never mind that Hwi-Oh doesn't even bother to suggest this or offer up any kind of a defense, which was beyond ludicrous!

Like poor, amateur writer, they make sure everything is all nice and tidy at the very end, regardless of how implausible it was.

We also have a side-story of a covenience store clerk and a cross-dresser that serve absolutely no relevance to the story at all. They literally add nothing.

In short, what started out as a well written series, quickly turned into a convoluted hot mess in the space of its last two episodes. Traffic accidents have taken longer than that to develop!

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The Pain We Carry

On the surface, "Our Beloved Summer" is about two unlikely high school students who are paired together for a documentary. Yeon-Soo is the top student in her class. She's driven and determined to be the best. At the other end of the spectrum is Choi-Woong, who is dead last in his class. He appears to be lazy, uninterested, and lacking in any ambition.

On a much deeper level, "Our Beloved Summer" is about the pain we all carry around with us. Much of it has to do with the past and how people are treated, whether it be from parents, other friends, or people from relationships. Pain is inevitable. Suffering, however, is optional. And it's amazing how much we suffer by holding on to the past. Yeon-Soo bitterly states in one episode, "The more you try to ignore the past, the more you become trapped in it. And the more you try to run away, the more it traps you." This is because the past needs to be released. Especially the pain. And much of this series is about that: letting go of the pain, and thus, coming to peace with the past.

Yeon-Soo is a woman who appears confident and doesn't seem to care what anyone thinks about her. This makes her appear cold and indifferent. However, this is what is on the surface, because underneath, she's a young woman in turmoil. She pushes everyone away from her because she feels she not worthy of being liked or loved by anyone. The irony of pushing people away in order to avoid pain, is that the person we really end up hurting, is ourselves.

Choi-Woong is similar in his pain. However, instead of pushing others away, Woong chooses to barricade himself in his house, focusing on his art, and having little contact with others. Why? Because he's been abandoned by those that should have loved him and been there for him. And so, just like Yeon-Soo, he also feels unworthy. And when Yeon-Soo breaks up with him the first time, it reinforces his feelings of unworthiness all the more. Woong is also a gifted artist. However, he draws only buildings, which seem to mirror his own feelings of trying to remain emotionless and distant from anyone else. We come to find that his true masterpiece of art is finally revealed in the very last episode in a most profound and touching way!

Ten years later, Yeon-Soo and Choi-Woong are asked to do another documentary, due to the success of the first one. Reluctantly, they agree. However, the more they begin to spend time together, they not only realize that the feelings they had for each other never went away, but they're able to finally confront their own demons from their past and put them to rest. They do this by acknowledging their fears and realizing what's been holding them back. They also realize that the goal of a relationship isn't to change the other person, but to change yourself. And this is why their relationship ultimately works.

The world is full of Yeon-Soos and Choi-Woongs. People who build up defensive walls, or hide themselves away because they believe what others have told them: that they are unworthy. Feelings of unworthiness truly rob us of our chance of having a happy, fulfilling life. And they exist only within our own minds.

This series is truly beautiful and uplifting in depicting the pain of these two lovable characters and watch their healing finally begin to take place. What's more, is that they also learn how to lean on each other when needed. They begin to trust their own love and strength and use it for each other as well as for themselves.

I cannot speak highly enough of Kim Mi-Da and Choi Woo-Shik. Not only is their chemistry undeniable, but they are able to give us deep, complex characters using subtlety as a powerful acting tool. A look; a smile; a falling tear...all brilliantly showcased to make us feel every emotion that they are conveying.

I was also thankful that the writers didn't succumb to a "typical" ending in the last episode. I love it when writers dare to follow a more realistic path that suits the characters and the situation rather than force a "happy ending" that is contrived and unbelievable.

I rarely speak of the music in my reviews, but Kim Kyung Hee has quickly become a favorite of mine! His title song is something that I've found myslef playing over and over again. I also loved his songs from "Crash Landing On You." He seems to perfectly capture Yeon-Soo and Choi-Woong in his song. I can't listen to it and not think of them!

This is one of my all-time favorite series involving "young" love. I cannot say enough about it. The series was cute, funny, heart-breaking, inspiring, touching, provocative, necessary, and deep. How many series can I say that about in over 45 years of watching shows? Not many.

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I watched "Oh My Ghost" a while back, and that series is infinitely superior to this one. It had intelligent characters, a great plot with some good twists, and a cast that was first-rate, led by Bo-Young Park, who is one of the best in the business.

This series is a poor imitation by comparison. It actually starts out quite strong with interesting characters, for the most part, and an interesting story. However, much like a house of cards, everything falls to pieces in the last 4-5 episodes when one is expecting things to continue strongly.

Bong-Pal Park is a young college student living on his own, majoring in Economics, and yet he has an interesting ability: he can see, hear, and even fight ghosts. In fact, he's earning money by being hired as an exorcist. This isn't your "western" exorcist who recites prayers and performs silly rituals, but a man who literally beats up ghosts until they disappear/move on. Yeah, I know...it's a bit silly too. Bong-Pal is a loner who doesn't interact with anyone except for a disheveled and inept monk who feels responsible for Bong-Pal's situation.

Bong-Pal is called to exorcise a ghost at a haunted high school. It's there that he meets Hyeon-Ji Kim, a rather weak, vain, and pesky ghost.

After a fight, she begins following him all around, and they end up teaming up together to fight ghosts. Yes, she can fight them too.

Meanwhile, we have Professor Joon Hye-Seong, who has a way of making any girl sway in her shoes, but is far more diabolical than meets the eye.

There is a connection between all three characters which attempts to drive the story.

The series is intriguing while Bong-Pal and Hyeon-Ji are together. However, a twist unfolds that shakes things up. You can't very well have a K-Drama without a wedge that drives them apart, can you?

We find that, for some reason (unexplained) that Hyeon-Ji is an even weaker and more pathetic young girl than we thought. For some reason, her personality changes, and she's a 24-year-old woman living under the heels of her overbearing, controlling mother. Yes, she has no say in her life, which unfortunately, is very typical of Asian mothers. I ought to know as I've worked as an ESL teacher in China, Korea, and Taiwan. Hyeon-Ji may be 24, but she acts like she's 14, and her mother treats her as such. Some of the worst parents in the world are Asian and American parents. Neither one knows how to empower. One rules by complete control, and the other spoils their kids with everything under the sun. Both are pathetic.

To make matters worse, she's a typical 24-year-old woman who acts 10 years younger than she is, because she's so immature. She gets upset if calls/texts aren't immediately returned (also typical of Korean women) which are followed up with threats of being cut-off permanently if an immediate response isn't given, and she gets upset if all of the attention isn't on her. She pouts and constantly asks, "Did you miss me?"

A 24-year-old woman (who's actually a couple of years older by now) having to ask her boyfriend to ask for permission to date, is one of the saddest and most pathetic things in any culture. This isn't the 1900s!

Episode 15 finally gives us a silly, unconvincing climactic battle. At one point, Hyeon-Ji is asked to get the weapon that will kill the evil spirit. She sits on the ground for 5 minutes before being told again. She literally says and does nothing during the whole battle. The series should have ended here.

Instead, we're giving a completely useless and unnecessary Episode 16 that will challenge even the most hearty viewer to sit through as we are lulled to sleep because it took the writers a whole episode to sort things out with Bong-Pal and Hyeon-ji. We're given scenes that any decent editor would have scrapped! I couldn't even get through the final episode. I finally shut it off with, "Enough!"

If you're looking for a good series to watch, I highly recommend the vastly superior, "Oh My Ghost." Leave this one to the exorcists, as that's what it would take to sort through this contrived mess of a series!

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Like Watching Kids Play "House."

You know when you’re watching a mediocre series when the first episode is better than all of those that follow it. By the time I’d reached the final three episodes, I nearly dropped the series completely. I was tired of watching these so-called “adults” acting like spoiled, immature brats, especially when they didn’t get what they wanted.

More often than not, less is more. In this case, had the series focused its energies on the business story rather than the romance, this series would have been much better, much more cohesive, and not felt like a story that an amateur writer put together piecemeal. Never mind the romance triangle (which doesn’t work at all in any case), but there are enough plot holes to drive a 18-wheeler truck through! The classic Korean series, “Misaeng” managed to keep its story focused on the four interns without needlessly deciding to add some silly romance angles.

The only relationship aspect of this series that held any interest for me was that between Mr. Han Ji Pyung and Choi Won Deok, the grandmother. There was a sweet tenderness between these two, especially as we discover that Mr. Han is resentful orphan who initially doesn’t want to be owing favors to anyone. Forget the fact that Mr. Han’s backstory is never revealed (and should have been) or why he ends up being the way he is. He’s a brilliant businessman who’s never afraid to offer true, honest criticism to anyone. He knows what happens to goldfish who decide to swim in the shark tank before they’re ready. And the story never really delves deeply into Mr. Han’s helping Grandma Choi write letters to Dal Mi, who ends up falling for more of an ideal than a real person.


The Sandbox is an intriguing place where up-and-coming inventors in the field of technology are able to showcase their abilities with the hopes of gaining funding and establishing a company. They are assigned a mentor as well as electing a CEO to lead each group. Nam Do San is a brilliant programmer, along with his two sidekicks (who do virtually nothing throughout the series but provide silly and unappealing comedy relief). It was interesting when he selected Dal Mi for his CEO rather than her sister, Won In Jae (a woman with much experience in the field). While Dal Mi ends up proving herself (with much help and assistance from Mr. Han), she later proves that she’s far more incompetent than she is being a true CEO. And her luck would have run out long ago had it not been for Mr. Han. She has no clue how to interact with those under her, and she always reacts emotionally to a situation rather than with a savvy business logic and rationale. A 50 question test does not a CEO make!

There are too many plot holes for me to list, but I will point out a few here. First, after Dal Mi finds out that Mr. Han wrote the letters and that her grandmother was the mastermind behind it, there is no conversation between Dal Mi and her grandmother about why she did it. Dal Mi is upset with Mr. Han and Nam Do San for deceiving her, but yet, no scene with her grandmother?! She would have been the first person I would have talked to!

Also, the ransomware perpetrated by the twins was so blatantly obvious that it killed any mystery regarding who was behind the act. That's never a good thing. Funny how neither of the sisters had any suspicions about them.

Sometimes, a three-year jump in the story does more harm than good, especially when the writer fails to take into consideration everything that transpires during that three-year gap. For instance, Dal Mi has an estranged relationship with her mother, who moves back in with her and her grandmother. And yet, there are no scenes showing how they’ve managed to reconcile things. There are also no scenes showing the process of reconciliation between Dal mi and her sister either! It’s like the writer was in too much of a hurry and skimmed over things. Perhaps if the silly romance had been thrown out (as it should have been!) then there would have been ample time for the more important aspects of the story.

Aside from the grandmother, we have a group of young and very immature children masquerading as adults. Dal Mi is so upset with her sister, that she feels she has to prove herself. Her sister wants to prove that she never needed her step-father’s money, and yet, she doesn’t seem to care at all about her late father or what he meant. Nam Do San is a little boy, pretending to be a “man,” crying at nearly every drop of a hat. His father is a tiger father who has Nam Do San’s life mapped out. Nam Do San is extremely immature and mistakenly puts Dal Mi at the center of his universe like a 16-year-old high school boy. What we end up with are two silly kids in a relationship that is about as appealing as watching kids in middle school.

Suzy Bae is a decent actress at best. Another big problem with the romantic angle is that Suzy Bae has absolutely no chemistry with either Nam Joo Hyuk (Nam Do San) or Kim Seon Ho (Mr. Han), and it was a headscratcher trying to figure out why a romance with either of them would work, let alone be even remotely appealing. Most of her expressions are very bland, and she certainly doesn’t have the range of many Korean actresses who are far superior in ability. I still can’t figure out why so many people are enamored with a woman who doesn’t seem to have much talent.

I can also say the same for Nam Joo Hyuk. A pretty face does not an actor make. Easily the weakest of the entire cast, Nam Joo Hyuk just looks lost half the time. Too often, he had that deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. He’d cry and then become a petty, jealous little boy in his scenes with Kim Seon Ho (a far superior actor). It felt like they picked the most popular boy and the most popular girl in high school and put them in a school play…just because they’re the most popular rather than because of any real talent.

Ultimately, this series ends up being a hot mess of contrived scenarios that would have been best left up to a fantasy writer. Not much was believable, let alone appealing, about this series. They should have hired the writer from “Misaeng” to handle this series rather than some clueless amateur. I ended up fast-forwarding through most of the final two episodes, but I was so sick of the story and the pathetic characters. Not a good sign that you’re watching a quality series. For me, “Start Up” didn’t take long to be finished, much like those groups in the first few episodes who were eliminated from the Sandbox. This series should have been eliminated from any kind of consideration as well.

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How Expectations and Different Goals Affect A Relationship

There aren't very many realistic relationship movies out there. Most are mired down by cliches and melodrama where everything always works out in the end. If that is what you're hoping for with this movie, you'd best move on, for this is one of the best films about relationships that I've seen in recent years.

Relationships are work. Period. And the more expectations that two people bring to the table, and the more differing goals that are brought, the more likelihood that the relationship is ultimately doomed.

This is a poignant story of two people who meet on a train, heading home for Chinese New Year. I've lived in China. There is no greater mass migration on the planet than during Chinese New Year. I lived in Shenzhen, a city of 20+ million. The city looked like a ghost town.

Jianqing is a young man living in Beijing. His dream is to create video games. He works at a small kiosk. He doesn't make much money, and his room in his apartment looks more like a metro station...people crammed together and living in bedrooms that look more like cubicles. It's a simple existence that doesn't seem to hold much promise, based upon Jianqing's dreams.

Xiao-Xiao is a young and vibrant woman, full of life, and seems to hop from place to place. Her dream is finding true love. So much so, that she invents stories of boyfriends in order to make her own goal--Jianqing--jealous to the point where she hopes he might come around.

Eventually, Xiao-Xiao pretty much takes the initiative and the two make love. She moves into Jianqing's cramped bedroom. Xiao-Xiao's dream is fulfilled, and she even reminds a frustrated Jianqing that she doesn't care if they live in a box. However, Jianqing firmly believes that Xiao-Xiao can't possibly be happy in their current living situation. In the process of trying to better their living situation, he slowly begins to alienate her, failing to understand that Xiao-Xiao only cares about being with him.

The story is masterfully told by taking us back to 2007 and progressing through the years up to present time. All of the flashbacks are done in color. The present is in black and white. The director is demonstrating a time when dreams were attempting to be realized up to the point where everything is now stale, desolate, and unfulfilled through the black and white landscape of crushed and unrealized dreams. Of course, in the present, after bumping into each other for a final time, they begin to wonder if things could have been different. Based upon how they each saw things, they realize that it couldn't have been. Xiao-Xiao has a bit more wisdom to see the folly than Jianqing.

Jianqing can only focus on--what he feels--his failure to provide for Xiao-Xiao. Xiao-Xiao already knows the futility that he was already everything to her; that he never needed to struggle and fight to make her happy. She was already happy. But, of course, he failed to see it.

Only in the end, when they are finally able to let go, do the vibrant colors begin to fill the landscape, almost as if it were happening in that very moment of their realization and appreciation for what they had...and frankly, still have.

Not only do people's expectation and goals often differ, but people also change as time moves on. Depending upon the couple, these can appear to be insurmountable barrier. And for those who choose to refuse to see what is right in front of them in the other, it too often is just that: an insurmountable barrier.

Most relationships fail due to a lack of communication; to talk things out when it's obvious that things are moving in two different directions, taking each person with them. Perhaps a film like this will inspire folks to look a bit harder at what--and more importantly who--is right in front of them. It's funny and sad how often most people fail to notice.

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The Only Thing that Stops Us Is Ourselves!

Point to anyone on the planet, and you will find a deluge of problems, obstacles, challenges, disabilities, and differences. When our attention is on any of these things, we lose sight of what is truly important and beautiful. We lose the ability to maximize the potential of something wonderful.

Most people do not realize that we are NOT our problems, obstacles, challenges, disabilities or our differences. What is needed is the correct perspective about who we are and the ability to communicate. Most relationships fail or struggle due to lack of communication.

This is a story that challenges the idea that two people from two different worlds (in this case, hearing and those who can't) can be together. Yes, the challenges might be more profound, but does that make any less worthwhile?

Mara is a young woman who has just failed to acquire her degree to become an architect. She begins to question whether or not it something that is even right for her.

Living down the hall in the same apartment complex is Gali. He is a young man who just happens to be deaf. He has a gift for teaching and working with deaf children. He aspires to go to the US to study so that he can return to educate more children and people due to a lack of facilities in the Phillippines.

What starts out as a wonderful friendship, soon turns into romance. Of course, it doesn't take a genius to know the challenges that are on their way.

Mara makes the mistake of leaving Gali alone at an office party. He quickly finds himself unable to communicate or even know what to do. Of course, the other people at the party have no idea about his disability, and he soon feels like a fish out of water.

Gali, on the other hand, has a troubled past where the woman he loved--a woman who could hear--broke off their engagement. Despite his best efforts to prove otherwise, he soon believes that his relationship with Mara will follow the same path. He comes to believe that someone who is deaf cannot be with someone who can hear. And so, he suddenly ends it. In short, Gali believes that his disability is who he is and that it cannot be dealt with by someone who doesn't have it.

The beauty of the story is how Mara and Gali come to realize that ANY relationship is work! And that it takes communication and effort. If two people want it badly enough, there is nothing that can stop them.

The best version of this type of story for me comes from the old TV show, "Life Goes On" which came out in the early 90s. It eventually takes on the question if a young girl can be in a relationship with a boy who is HIV+. Since then, we've seen a number of wonderful stories like this film that endeavor to tell people: don't give up on something just because it's hard! The rewards can be well worth it!

The performances from Carlo Aquino and Maine Mendoza are first-rate, and nobody can deny the chemistry between these two actors. The movie is moving, heartfelt, and profound. Anyone who questions being with someone they love because it might be too difficult, should give this film a look! And even if you're just looking for a beautiful and inspiring story, you can't go wrong with "Isa Pa, With Feelings."

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Absolute Thrill Ride Despite Flaws!

When it comes to a series that has all of the twists and turns, the action sequences, and the intrigue like "24," you really can't go wrong with "Vagabond."

Much like "24," nothing in Vagabond is as it seems. Characters aren't as they appear to be, and those that you figured to be the "villains," you suddenly find everything turned around.

A Korean airliner is taken down by terrorists, and the absolute distraught uncle, Cha Dal Geon, is determined to find out why as well as who is behind it. Of course, at first, nobody believes him until small pieces begin to fall into place. Geon is given some credibility as a movie stuntman who also teaches martial arts classes. However, he quickly finds out that martial arts rarely beats out a special forces soldier. I liked that they put some limitations on Geon. However, I was occasionally frustrated by how he took the lead in NIS investigations. That part was lacking in realism. I understand that he has a vested interest, but I doubt that NIS would give him such free reign and latitude. Still, Lee Seung-gi brings a character with a lot of charisma as well as genuine feeling to the role. He was excellent.

Go Hae Ri is the "rookie" NIS agent stationed in Morocco. I had a harder time with her character. Suzy Bae is a good--but not great--actress. She seemed to find a hard time treading the line between depicting an agent who is inexperienced but trained. There were times when I just didn't find her depiction believable. I was hoping more for a seasoned actress like Doona Bae (Stanger) who brings intelligence and presence to her roles. Half the time Go Hae Ri doesn't seem to know what she's doing. And too often, she took a backseat to Geon, when she is the field agent! If you're stationed in Morocco as a field agent, you can't be that green. I thought the writers could have done a better job here. Bae also needs to broaden her range. Too often, she has an almost blank expression or the same expression in most of her scenes. I also quickly tired of her "16-year-old" reactions to the small, intimate moments with Geon. If there is a "weak link" in the cast, it's definitely Suzy Bae!

There were a number of character errors in the series. Never implement a character error in order to move the plot. That's a rookie mistake, and it was used several times in this series to the point when you can't help but shake your head at such carelessness.

Several times, Go Hae Ri or Geon would return to their homes even when they know that they are targets. Do you really think an NIS agent would make this kind of a mistake?

There was an instant when Go Hae Ri is assigned to protect Geon. She's drugged and knocked out. When she comes to, she immediately goes to the bathroom rather than checking to see if Geon is in danger...or even worse, not knowing if the assassin is even still in the building! If she has enough state of mind to easily make her way to the bathroom, I doubt she was disoriented.

Another instant is when we have a sniper trying to take out a target. Geon and Hae Ri are protecting him. We already know that the sniper has orders to kill anyone, including Geon and Hae Ri. And yet, a professional assassin decides not to shoot them in order to kill her target?! I don't know many assassins who have such a conscience. It made no sense.

I also wondered if male prison guards are allowed to work at female prisons in Korea.

In any case, don't let these minor flaws prevent you from watching this adrenalin-boost of a series! There's scarcely a dull moment, and the rest of the cast, especially Kyeong-Yeong Lee (Edward Park) is nothing short of fantastic! I've seen him in several other series, and he's always tremendous!

What really got me, however, was the season-ending cliff-hanger! So unlike most of the Korean series I've seen where I now have to wait for Season 2! I absolutely can't wait!

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The Beauty and Tenderness of Love

Anyone who watches this series, hoping for a depiction of a torrid, passionate love affair will be disappointed.

This series is handled with a certain delicacy; a restraint that doesn't prevent or hold back, but depicts the tender beauty of two people in love. I submit that a viewer may find it very difficult to pass judgment, for how does one justify judging love? Can love be judged?

To the naive viewer, Sunjae Lee is a young man, barely 20, who thinks and feels with his hormones. This is a gross misinterpretation and understanding of who he is. Sunjae Lee is a simple young man who knows how to do things in only one way: with love and passion. A gifted pianist, Sunjae is able to captivate his audiences, whether they be a concert hall or a few listeners, not with just the beauty of his play, but with the heart and passion he puts into it. Several viewers are so captivated by his play, that he moves them to tears. It is a bit ironic that a young man of 20 already knows the secret to love and living simply.

Oh Hyewon is a middle-aged woman, approximately twenty years older than Sunjae. A renowned pianist when she was Sunjae's age, she has now found herself pulled into the world of wealth and power. She works for a Seohan Art Institute as an executive/accountant. She loves the life that her money buys for her, and she has long forgotten the passion and her own love for music. She is married to a university professor, who also works for the institute. They share a house and a life that is more like those of roommates than of spouses. There is little tenderness or warmth in their relationship or in their house, which looks like a cold bastille atop the street. It is somewhat ironic that the only room in the house that has any warmth at all, is the music room.

Sunjae's talent is soon discovered, and he's asked to come over to the professor's house to play. Hyewon is asked to listen, given her musical background. Immediately, she is taken back to a time when she used to share the same love and passion for music that Sunjae has. Hyewon can't help but be enamored by the young man, unable to realize that she has already captivated him.

There is a certain degree of irony in their relationship, in which Hyewon attempts to teach Sunjae about her world; the world of power and treachery. It is a world that is completely foreign to Sunjae, and he already realizes that he wants no part of it. He is not interested in money or acquiring things. And yet, it is his simple and complete way of loving, that makes him Hyewon's teacher in that regard.

The acting performances are all first-rate, especially those of Ah-in Yoo (Sunjae) and Hui-ai Kim (Hyewon). The relationship between these two characters is handled deftly, like a piano piece...full of love, beauty, and grace. Viewers may find themselves longing for their own "Sunjae"...someone who can love so unequivocally and unconditionally as Sunjae can. His love is all the more profound in the little things that he does to ensure her comfort.

One cannot mention this series without the incredible musical performances. Nearly every episode has a piano piece that seems to perfectly coincide with the feelings of Sunjae and Hyewon. Watching this series is like listening to a long concert, and by the end, you feel all the better for it!

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Navigating the Pitfalls of Love and Sex

One of the age-old questions is put front and center: Is love sex? Or is sex love? People might be surprised at the answer. Sex is not love, as Kenichi puts it. However, sex is/can be an expression of love. This is where Kenichi and his wife Kumiko run into trouble.

It is clear that Kenichi and Kumiko both love each other. However, they have a difficult time adjusting to the fact that they cannot have conventional sex. Now, it can be dangerous to view this series with the eyes of a westerner. You have to understand something about Japanese culture. I'm not saying you will agree with it, but you will understand why Kumiko and Kenichi do not handle the problem in the same way that others might.

Japanese people are among the sweetest people I have ever known, but they also tend to have one glaring issue (one that even they admit to!): they are never very direct in their communication. There are even some wonderful, and even funny, youtube videos posted by Japanese people who address this.

Kumiko is an extremely shy young woman, who never really speaks up about anything. She keeps her problems and dislikes bottled up within her. It doesn't help that she has a domineering mother who is clearly ashamed of her. Remember that "shame" is not something that Japanese people take lightly. Western viewers are likely to show frustration and say, "Why doesn't she go and see a doctor? Why doesn't she talk about it with her husband?" Again, it's the culture, for better or worse. And, I daresay, there are those around the world who take issue with some of our cultural ideas too! I should know as I was a Peace Corps volunteer for four years and have also lived and worked in five different countries as well!

The bottom line that is addressed in this series is a failure to communicate. This is a universal problem in marriage and relationships, not just an Asian one. And we see the damage that is done by not talking things out. Both Kenichi and Kumiko attempt to avoid the issue by finding solace in other people. As we know, avoidance and denial never make a problem go away. If anything, it exacerbates it, which is one of the things this series addresses.

The series is very well done, with exceptional performances from Aoi Nakamura (Kenichi) and Natsumi Ishibashi (Kumiko). They give us a couple that clearly love each other but are unable to figure out how to address the issue of not having sex.

What is sad is that intimacy is a necessary ingredient for a happy marriage. And intimacy doesn't necessarily mean sex. There are many ways for a couple to BE with each other. There are ways to make it work, and my only issue with the series is that there really isn't much mentioned about how a couple can be intimate without sex.

Marriages don't fail because of a lack of sex. They fail due to a lack of love, communication, and intimacy. This series does a pretty credible job of addressing this, especially in the "communication" department!

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Don't Treat Me Like I'm Broken

Yuma Takada is a 23-year-old woman who suffers from cerebral palsey. However, she is also an extremely talented manga artist and writer. An arrangement is made with her friend, as they publish a well-known manga series, but her friend, Sayakara gets all of the credit (despite not being an artist or a writer) even though Yuma gets some payment for the job.

Yuma lives with her loving but overprotective mother who treats her more like a 10-year-old. She doesn't like Yuma going out on her own or wearing dresses as "there are too many creeps out there."

Having had enough of the oppressive lifestyle where she is used and abused, she attempts to fight for her independence. Finding some discarded adult manga books, she calls the various publishers to find out if they have job-openings. She's called into the offices of one, asking that she submit her work. Having had no sexual experiences of her own, Yuma's asked to come back when she has some so that her stories will be more authentic and realistic.

Yuma tries in vain to acquire some sexual experiences by going down to the red-light district on her own. Of course, things don't go as she planned, but she does meet a high-priced escort in Mai, who encourages her to live and enjoy life. Mai ends up being Yuma's window of opportunity toward a life of freedom as she is arguably the first person to treat her as a normal human being.

This drives a deeper and wider wedge between Yuma and her mother, who finds out what Yuma has been doing. Yuma eventually runs away but is taken in by Toshi, Mai's driver. Yuma decides to try and find the father that she never knew, and in doing so, finds yet another family member she had no knowledge of. This also gives the viewer the answer to the significance of 37 seconds, which is revealed in a beautiful scene.

People are often uncomfortable when dealing with people with disabilities, not realizing that they are people just like anyone else. They have the same thoughts, dreams, feelings, and goals. But most people treat them as though they are broken. We end up cheering for Yuma as she fights for her own freedom with as much determination as when she's forced to crawl across the floor in order to get from one place to another. The point is, she can do it. She can do many things if people would simply give her the opportunity.

This is one of the most delightful films I've seen in a while that is completely character-driven. Actress Mei Kayama gives us a Yuma who as the voice of pure sweetness and the heart of a lion. She doesn't want protection. She wants to live and be who she is, and who has the right to keep her (or anyone!) from fulfilling her goals?

The film iis heartfelt, but it isn't bogged down in melodrama or at risk of being too sentimental because the goal isn't to make the viewer feel sorry for Yuma. The goal is to make the viewer cheer Yuma on, and writer-director Hikari gives us that kind of a movie.

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Compelling and Provocative Series About Moving Forward and Following Your Dreams!

Anyone who simply views this series as a story about a 31-year-old woman being in a relationship with a 15-year-old boy is simply not looking deep enough. The world is made up of religious, societal, and even cultural "rules" about how to live. Many of those "rules" involve telling others how to live.

Wako is a young woman who has always lived her life under the premise of doing what everyone else expects her to do. I've lived in Korea, China, and Taiwan as an ESL teacher. I don't think many people understand or appreciate what it means to be a woman who is being told how to live her life. In many cases, they are told as children what they will do for the rest of their lives. This is no joke. I had a mother who'd already told her 8-year-old daughter that she was going to be a doctor. And, yes, if you're a woman at/near 30, and if you aren't married yet, you will undergo enormous pressure to hurry up and marry and have kids. Asian parents often live vicariously through their kids.

Wako is constantly reminded of how old she is and how she needs to hurry up and marry and have kids. She is in a familiar and comfortable four-year relationship with a boyfriend with whom she no longer connects with. Of course, as with 99% of the people on this planet, we often prefer the mundane, shallow, and unfulfilling life to taking a chance on something better. In short, people settle. And perhaps there is nothing so sad as someone who settles. Someone once said, "Your comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there." This is why so many people lapse into doing things they don't love. Why? Because it's safe.

Iko represents a step out of that comfort zone for Wako. Of course, they are despised and nearly ostracized. Those who believe in the "rules" will likely say, "And rightly so!" But this series isn't about the relationship as much as it represents going against the grain. Swim up river even when everyone else is going down it. Don't be a lemming. Follow your own heart and your own dreams no matter how many people cry against you. Carpe Diem!

Of course, it does take courage to do this. To tell your family and friends that you aspire and want to do something that they all disapprove of. Wako finally understands why she isn't happy. She looks for "love" and approval in all of the wrong places, in everyone, and yet she can't understand why this does not bring her happiness. Love can only come from within. It can't be found outside of yourself. And it isn't until Wako finally realizes that the only person who is responsible for her love and happiness is herself.

The series is beautifully filmed, deftly acted, and the story is something that is sorely needed in today's world that loves to tell everyone what to do and how to live. The world wants followers. Masters dare to walk alone on a path created only by them. And yet ironically, people find them so compelling that they end up saying, "How did you do that? How can I do that?" The master can only respond, "Not by following me, but by following your Self. By being true to who you are! That is the only way!" Becoming absolutely vulnerable to your Self and others is the only true courage. And that is what this series represents.

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How To Be There For Someone And Let Them Be There For You!

There is one thing more powerful, captivating, and endearing than one person being there for someone else. It’s when two people are able to be there for each other. This is the hallmark—the foundation—of any true relationship. Relationships are not about what you get out of them, but what you put into them. And any true companion will never ask you to be anything other than who you are. In fact, they won’t encourage you to be anything else.

I doubt there is a person alive who cannot remember their first love. The series does a masterful job of demonstrating the awkwardness as well as the intrigue of first love. It’s new. It’s scary. And it’s also so encompassing that a person can scarcely believe that it’s happening. At the start of the series, Sang Zhi is a young middle school student who quickly finds herself enamored by her brother’s friend, Duan Jia Xu. Despite the fact that he’s five years her senior, it doesn’t matter. As we well know, love defies logic and rationale. Most would quickly define Sang Zhi’s feelings as a crush and nothing more. However, over time, a single seed can grow and blossom, and it soon becomes obvious that this is not a crush.

Sang Zhi isn’t merely captivated by Duan Jia Xu’s looks. She marvels at how well and respectfully he treats her, always being thoughtful, attentive, and willing to help, no matter the situation. Initially Duan Jia Xu sees Sang Zhi as a sister and nothing more. After all, with such an age gap, it’s hard to imagine him seeing her in any other way. But, as people grow older, that gap narrows. It just takes some time; time enough for him to begin seeing her in a new light. Or as Sang Zhi wisely states, “I had to catch up to him.”

Duan Jia Xu is a gentle, hardworking young man who suddenly finds a massive responsibility thrust upon his young shoulders. His father, in a drunken state, is involved in a hit-and-run fatality. Rather than face the consequences of his actions, his father hurls himself off the balcony of their home. However, he doesn’t die, but is in a vegetative state. Bills pile up. Duan Jia Xu’s mother’s body is wracked with cancer. And works multiple jobs to try and pay off the debt that he owes to the family who was affected by the tragedy. In short, he’s forced to grow up very quickly. Despite having Sang Yan’s friendship (Sang Zhi’s hilarious older brother!), Duan Jia Xu feels very much alone. One can’t help but figure that, even at a young age, Sang Zhi gave him a reason to not feel this way. And by the final episode, we are proven right. She is the bright star in his life and always has been.

Sang Zhi is a young, spoiled, and often immature young girl. Her defense mechanism of “playing mind games” with Duan Jia Xu leads her into needless and silly predicaments, such as making up the idea that she has an online boyfriend, hoping to make him jealous. Of course, it backfires, and she often reacts terribly, leading her to jump to conclusions. However, make no mistake. Sang Zhi is a very strong woman who proves to Duan Jia Xu that she is more than capable and fit to be by his side during the most trying of times. In short, she’s exactly the kind of partner any sane man would want. Someone who’s there for you during the lightest and darkest of times. She never hesitates or wavers in her convictions. She is steadfast and acts very much like an anchor. Even when her parents initially disapprove of their dating, it doesn’t sway her. Nothing does.

For the most part, the relationship between Sang Zhi and Duan Jia Xu is done very well, even when she is given very poor advice from her roommates—most of whom have no clue how to be in a relationship. Sang Zhi often contradicts herself; wanting to be pursued and then reacts immaturely when Duan Jia Xu doesn’t do something or pursues her in a way that she doesn’t understand. She is fortunate enough that Duan Jia Xu’s own love for her is as strong as hers is for him, and he won’t be turned away so easily either. However, there are a few awkward and even puzzling moments after they start their relationship, how often Sang Zhi recoils as attempts of kisses or hugs or even holding hands. This was done a bit too frequently, in my opinion. It reminded me of Sang Zhi’s funny attempt at the high jump in high school when she kept awkwardly stepping forward, then back, and then ran toward the bar only to crash into it. Once she finally gets over her girlish reactions and aversions, things finally begin to settle into a space of normalcy.

This is my first foray into Chinese dramas, and I wasn’t disappointed. Through the first 21 episodes or so, I had this series at an “8” or so. The last few vaulted it to a “10.” Lu Si Zhao got to me when she reacted to her brother after he’d hit Duan Jia Xu. Her tearful reaction of feeling betrayed by someone who was supposed to be on her side, hits full force. The series only got better from there. The airport scene when she follows him back and finally reveals her “secrets” to Duan Jia Xu and letting him know that she will never leave him is incredibly powerful as was their scene together at his mother’s grave. However, the “proposal scene” was done so effectively, that I’ll wager that not many saw that coming. I’m not a fan of having a crowd for a marriage proposal, but seeing all of their loved ones standing around the heart of flowers, and Duan Jia Xu’s heartfelt proposal culminated everything that the series was about.

The chemistry between Lu Si Zhao and Chen Zhe Yuan is undeniable and unmistakable as they make sure that the viewer takes in every single raw feeling and emotion that occurs between them. "Our Beloved Summer" is my all-time favorite romance between young couples. This one is right up there with that one.

So many romantic dramas and movies often leave the viewer actually wondering if a “happy ending” is feasible or if reality will simply prove to be too much and the “happy couple” will eventually dissolve into an ambivalent one. Not this couple! I have no doubt that Duan Jia Xu and Sang Zhi will have a happy and largely fulfilling life together. Why? Because they’ve both realized at a tender young age, the most important thing to do for someone you love is to be there for them and to also let them be who they are. If you’ve lost faith in romance, this series just might help you find it again.

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