Let down by a random plot

It seems that quite a number of dramas I’m watching at the moment have a lot going for them but are let down or even ruined by inadequate plot structure and this one is no exception.

So what went right?

Well the first half of the drama worked well for me. The premise for this show was good and could provide plenty of opportunities for tension. It gave a credible necessity for the superpower which featured throughout the unfolding layers of the plot.

The driving force behind the story was well handled, of being wrongfully accused and the resultant lack of trust destroying a life. It created sympathy for the character, Kim Do Ha, played by Hwang Min Hyun, as he struggled to release himself from the hole he had crawled into. I liked his performance but I can imagine that it was just a bit too underplayed for some. However, I wasn’t very enthused by Kim So Hyun’s performance as Kim Sol Hee. I think an opportunity was missed here (either by the actor or the director, or both) to beef up the character a bit. Given her character’s background, she could well have shown more edge. The blandness didn’t help the chemistry between the leads which was tepid rather than fiery. I think the most notable performances came from Yun Ji On as Deuk Chan and Lee Si Woo as Syaon.

There was enough differentiation in the secondary cast to keep me interested but that leads me into a discussion of how the plot was handled, because as far as minor characters went, the cup runneth over…

Nothing is more unsatisfying than loose plotting that requires an army of insignificant characters whose only purpose is to pass on information, overhear conversations or create contrived meetings. Knowing characters are being introduced for these purposes alone really gets annoying. Their fragmented stories float around the central plot like misshapen asteroids.

It smacks of the writer having a problem with the flow of information because of a lack of forward planning, and rather than thinking creatively, just introducing a convenient character to solve the problem. Sol Hee’s parents for instance had little impact on the plot and could have been easily dispensed with. Then there were journalists, gangsters, shopkeepers, composers, security guards and on and on.

Getting rid of most of them could have helped to change the story from an XXXL baggy sweatshirt and trackies into a designer suit. There was a lack of sophistication and it simply wasn’t sleek enough to create and maintain the tension, slobbing around like it had all the room in the world. The plot was fairly predictable from early on but the playing out of it was padded with over-complicated details (such as the rings) which failed to convince and required uncharacteristic motivations.

The flow wasn’t smooth either, with false resolutions splitting the whole story into segments sandwiched together with filler episodes. It felt like a revolving door that was clumsy and repetitive in nature.

So it’s back, yet again, to my favourite saying: Less is more. The real skill in plotting is to weave something close fitting with a few characters. Keeping things tight so that the viewer is wrapped up and has nowhere to turn to escape the tension. Then occasionally loosening a belt to allow them to breathe, before cinching it up again by a couple of notches. OK, I’ll accept that’s a bit OTT, it wasn’t ever supposed to be Through the Darkness. But the principle still holds and it could have been a much better drama with a little more attention and an editor’s blue pencil.

Read More

A mixed up jigsaw puzzle that didn’t quite make a beautiful picture

I had reasonably high hopes of this one after the first episode. The characters were intriguing, the scenario showed promise, the acting was good, the cinematography on point. But all that promise was gradually gambled away by a plot that was so clunky you could hear it grinding.

This was a scenario that could have been so good in better hands but unfortunately there was zero finesse to the unfurling of the mystery. It relied totally on incredible coincidences, cringeworthy conveniences, inexplicable premises and unrealistic actions.

The unfolding of a plot is not about what happens, but how it happens and therein lies the skill. How information is revealed in such a way that characters can discover it credibly/naturally and the viewer can gradually see the bigger picture unfolding. But here, it was like the writer didn’t have the patience (or attention to detail) to complete the jigsaw properly, so cut random pieces to fit the gaps and rammed them home. Leaving characters clinging onto the edges like loose pieces that didn’t quite fit anywhere and blue sky questions sitting in the middle of muddy field explanations. It had all the hallmarks of seat-of-your-pants writing rather than well structured and planned writing.

Too much of it relied on inexplicable premises that I continued to hope would be explained, but never were. The hotel plot in the present was not really tied to the plot in the past or maybe I just missed the point. All this increasingly became the focus of my frustration leaving me very little energy to appreciate the good things, which is a shame because there were some really good things.

One thing the writer did get right (ably assisted by the director and the actors) was a cast of interesting and engaging characters. Both the leads played their parts well and created a believable chemistry. I really liked Ahn Dong Gu as the tsundere Ha Do Yoon. This type is always difficult to make sympathetic and he did very well in revealing the emotional undertow of the character. Also an honourable mention for the child actors, particularly Kim Shi Ah who totally captured the enigmatic aura of the 18th incarnation.

I really enjoyed the cinematography in this show. The clever use of angular sets and monochrome environments was notable and there were some stunning set shots throughout.

So overall, if I hadn’t been so distracted by the plot I would have really liked this show and given it a much better rating. If you’re not going to be affected by that, then go ahead and watch, there’s plenty to enjoy.

What my rating means: 6+ Some aspects of it were OK but it had serious flaws. It will pass the time but you can find something better.

Read More

A cry from the heart about the current state of arts education in Korea

Ahn Pan Soek always chooses to highlight a social issue in his dramas and essentially this drama explores the current state of arts education in Korea with a romance blended in. If you hope it’s the other way around you will not only be disappointed, but probably miss the point entirely. Having said that, the romance that does unfold is beautifully written, directed and acted. And the lesson in arts education is a rallying cry to bring it back to life and reveal it’s passionate, emotional heart.

He likes to find writers who can reveal both the underbelly and the heart and here he has collaborated with yet another subtle and mature writer, Park Kyung Hwa. She only has one other credit to her name which is delighting in the rating of 7.1 on the MDL richter scale. Obviously not earth shaking. Unfortunately there are no reviews, so I have no idea why it was rated so low. But here she is ably proving herself to be a typical Ahn Pan Seok collaborator with a nuanced and obviously well-informed script. She manages to highlight the different responses made by each character in pressure situations and handles the character development well, giving the viewer enough verbal information to follow along with the complex internal emotional landscapes that she is playing with. The emotional games that get played out in the final two episodes are especially good.

The pacing is very even and focuses on slow studies of people’s reactions. The life lessons learned here are not on a romcom level, they are difficult questions around the intersection between ethics and ambition, and, compassion and competition, requiring some thought and sensitivity to follow and appreciate. It really takes off about two thirds of the way through, at a point where often a drama flags.

The characters are closer to realistic so have good and bad about them, but are not exaggerated. For some they might be too ordinary, but I think that the actors do a good job at showing the hidden undercurrents and the depth is there if you look for it. At the start the FL makes some quite unprofessional moves and the ML bludgeons his naive way ahead. But this slice of life story leads you through the realistic steps that will change both their minds and their attitudes. At times there’s a moral superiority at work which might be a little difficult to swallow. But this is dramaland after all and the antagonists are kept within the bounds of credibility.

As with other Ahn Pan Seok dramas, the love story at the heart is sensitively portrayed. High five to Jung Rye Won and Wi Ha Joon who have great, believable chemistry. The uncertainty and awkwardness of the beginnings of intimacy are beautifully brought out. And the bedroom scene is such a joy. Full of warmth and naturalness. Ahh Pan Seok and his crew obviously manage to create an environment on set that allows the actors to feel comfortable and easy, so that their laughter and intimacy seem more real.

The supporting cast is a panel of very familiar faces if you are an Ahn Pan Seok stan. All of them are good and there are no two-dimensional cardboard cut-outs. As for Seo Jung Yeon’s hair, it is a sculpture in itself. It’s got enough product in it to hold up the Sydney Harbour Bridge and she wears it with impressive style. Who needs Medusa when you’ve got her death-stare boring into you from across the desk.

Overall the drama is a damning indictment of the Korean arts education system and the forces that keep it on the straight and narrow, where free thinking and self-learning is sacrificed to conformity and examination grades. In terms of thinking it creates more of the same, rather than individuals who can think outside the box and move in unique directions.

The majority of my working life was spent in “western” universities and I watched them change in order to accommodate the rote learning styles of the many countries whose students provide the financial survival of western education, once political policies turned them into businesses. Much has been lost in the process.
A PhD was once an entirely original piece of research in a field not previously studied. It required breaking new ground in an area carved out by the scholar. Now it has often become being included in someone else’s research programme to write papers and includes taught courses. Many students flounder if they are not told exactly what to do and how to do it.

Gone is the education in imaginative and original thinking and the confidence to explore academic freedom. This was the actual purpose of an arts education. But the drama reveals how that is undermined, such that the student never gains this skill, but only learns to parrot what is thought by someone else. At one point the character Lee Jun Ho (Wi Ha Joon), in his battle to teach differently, says “The smart ones… understand it will become an asset of their lifetime.” The whole essence of this thinking is carefully revealed in Episode 12 and it is explicitly delineated in step by step terms like a cry from the heart.

I won’t elaborate on, imo, how self defeating it is to push children in this way to rote learn so that they can get into a university (Seoul National) which is currently (June 2024) ranked at 62 on the THE scale of global universities, 14th in Asia, with an arts and humanities ranking of 176-200. (https://www.timeshighereducation.com/world-university-rankings/seoul-national-university) That’s indicative of a good university, but nothing exceptional. Children who get into the top university in the world - Oxford University - do not study in this way or for such punishing and unsustainable hours. Go figure…

Where Ahn Pan Seok and I completely part company is the music. My musical taste is pretty eclectic and I’m willing to embrace almost anything if it’s good. But banal and bland, predictable and pedestrian - nah. It’s not even as though you can just ignore it as background noise, tbh it’s often so cheerfully twee it attracts the ear. How he can be so subtle in his directing, yet have such naff taste in music is beyond me to understand. I’ve never watched a drama of his where the repetitive songs have not annoyed the hell out of me in every episode. Look, I’m sure there are people out there who love them, but I’m simply not one of them.

What I do like about his approach to music though is that he doesn’t always use it. His directing and the quality of the acting allows him to sometimes let emotional scenes play out without having to manipulate the viewers’ responses. They are good enough to stand on their own and silence is the thing that adds poignancy. Then immediately afterwards he’ll use something with brass and percussion at max reverb that wouldn’t sound out of place in a Marvel movie. What can I say…

As I have experience in the field and care very much about education I was probably able to read the message more thoroughly than most and as a result I really enjoyed this drama.

Read More

Missed the pocket by a mile

There are mild spoilers in this review, but nothing that will spoil the story.

I promise, I gave up on watching romcoms. I really did. But this was a romance drama and I’ve seen some good ones of those. “Lighter and Princess” for instance wasn’t half bad (even though a friend of mine dubbed it lighter and ashtray— you know who you are…) but I’m afraid this one really didn’t make the cut. So if you are going to feel sensitive about a beloved actor, then this review will probably rile you up and is best passed over. Spend your day happily elsewhere. We all have different opinions and I’ve explained my serious reasons, albeit in a somewhat flippant tone.

I’m not a great fan of the standard tsundere type. “We can talk to each other any time if we have anything to say.” Actual quote from Ep 15, albeit in translation. I sort of hope that it lost something in the process there. To me, someone who can’t talk about what they feel is a bit of a red flag. And the way he stared at her at the start was really creepy stalker stuff. Later he makes life changing decisions which he doesn’t discusses with her and she’s the last to know. The character simply wasn’t my type. But putting that aside, Leo Wu did a good job with Lin Yi Yang, and the chemistry was visible in his face right from the start.

But out of what did all this romance spring? There was no witty dialogue going on, no flirtation to lighten the mood. Love seemed to conveniently blossom out of thin air. Followed by a lot on him chasing her, and her pushing him away whilst being pouty petulant. Did the writers actually know why they “fell in love”? It sort of didn’t seem like they did.

Ok, setting the why question aside, and to be fair, I’ve fallen in love for no reason I could explain to myself. To start off with, the romance was pretty cute. It ticked all the standard boxes, as well as all the cliché boxes and all the stating the obvious boxes and a whole bunch of the cringe boxes. It’s really the only reason to watch the drama at all, and you will just about get it in real time, inching inexorably forward, through every tiny nuance. But that’s Chinese romance drama so if I don’t like it, I should just stfu and not watch it! (There, said it for you.) There’s a lot of defensive play nestling up against the cushions and the occasional escaping from an impossible snooker, but they ping around the table and drop the 9-ball without going in off. After about eight episodes I’m kinda over it but I hung in there. Then they really start straying into a sort of toxic, sacrificial relationship dynamic where A (him) relentlessly does everything for B (her), and she takes it all and doesn’t seem to do anything much in return except sleep a lot and cry prettily. Romantic? More Red Flag waving as far as I was concerned.

Which leads me into Yin Guo’s character (Zhao Jin Mai). Take a pound of sugar, some marshmallows and a handful of pink and fluffy with a great big dollop of childish sulky, petulance and a large spoonful of wet weekend; stir constantly for 30 episodes and it should come out pretty much the same as it went in. Really, couldn’t they have written a little bit of an edge in there somewhere. She was supposed to be a competitive sportswoman with an ice queen attitude in her games. I’m afraid that was wishful thinking, ‘cause nowhere did I actually find any believable link between those two supposed sides of her. There’s an internal stillness and concentration that is present in any professional sportsperson, that is born of single-mindedness and dedication, and I just couldn’t see that in Zhao Jin Mai’s eyes or in her character. Leo Wu made a much more convincing job of lining himself up down the cue.

The thing that actually was pretty glacial was the pacing. If you remove the PP from each episode in Helsinki, you’re left with about 5 minutes of real action. I like slow paced dramas but you really have to plumb the character depth to make them work. Unfortunately, here, character exploration was limited to squirming, shyness and ludicrous amounts of hesitancy for at least the first eight episodes. They needed way more variations in dynamics in their relationship to make it interesting and engaging.

There were a lot of characters who just seemed to hang around like loose red balls after the break, getting in the way of a clear view of the black. Not at all enough plot to go round for sooooo many characters. They could have cut the acting budget by half with very little effort and no-one would have noticed. And what is that first rule of writing? — never introduce a character without a well defined and clear purpose. Take Meng Xiao Dong (Wang Xing Yue) for instance and his maybe/maybe-not relationship. It was hinted at and never really explored or resolved so why was it there at all? And it wasn’t like they were short of time.

The lack of any real plot or serious character development meant that the forward momentum was sadly lacking and it became tedious and boring, with each episode pretty much indistinguishable from the previous one.

My final beef is Lin Yi Yang crying poor and it turns out “all” he has is 55,000 US$ and ownership of a billiard hall. Give me strength, I’m lmao at this point. It’s like crying poor because you can’t afford your annual holiday in San Tropez. What planet are people on? Definitely not mine, I’m telling you that. It’s a complete misuse of the word and an absolute insult to a whole world of people who struggle to live their lives and support their families with three less noughts in their bank accounts.

If you enjoyed Road Home, then you will find this a slight step up. The production values in this one were actually reasonable. It was well lit and in focus!

Read More

Good idea, boring execution

To be honest, I was bored. So the question I’m asking myself is, why?

Well, this is a thriller, but there were precious little thrills for most of it. I did think that the idea behind the plot was good—triggering self-destruct mechanisms, light the fuse and then step back. It offers great opportunities for building tension but I don’t think that the overall production capitalised on the potential.

The pace was a constant plod. It needed some speed variations, some light and shade, some better twists and turns and a great deal more tension. This is really a problem across the board from the writer, through the director to the editing suite. The only thing that had any zing was the cinematography, which was beautifully realised.

The characters, including the protagonist, were universally unlikeable. Song Hye Kyo had a stone-face throughout and I was not impressed by her performance. The main problem for me was that the characters were not presented in any depth and for the most part had one mode of operation. For a plot built on the premise of self-destruction, the characters have to be much more carefully realised. Also, with so many antagonists, their inter-relationships did not have enough time to develop to the point where I was engaged. Maybe if Lee Sa Ra and even Son Myeong Oh were omitted that would have made room for more character breadth and detailed interactions.

As it was, I was totally unmoved by any of them and fairly disinterested in what happened to them. The most interesting character for me was Ha Do Young, played by Jung Sung Il, who brought more subtlety to the realisation of his part than any of the others. So when you’ve got nothing much going on in the plot and you don’t feel any interest or attachment to any of the characters, what is there to keep your attention?

One thing that always hacks me off is when the psychology is wrong and it is here. Dong Eun can be triggered into horrendous flashbacks which completely cripple her, but shows no hesitation in confronting and challenging her torturers face to face in isolated places without a tremor or a drop sweat breaking out. This type of dichotomy is simply not credible. Her character relies on words for her safety, but it is emotions that provoke damage and they are much quicker off the mark. So her interactions with the emotion driven antagonists are undermined. It is even more unbelievable because no explanation is offered regarding any of the psychological processes that turned her from fearful victim to controlled aggressor.

What my rating means: 6+ Some aspects of it were OK but it had serious flaws. It will pass the time but you can find something better.

Read More

So, what’s this drama about again?

When you look at the drama pedigree of a writer you get an insight into what to expect. Yoo Young Ah likes to lay on the pressure from the outside and watch her characters squirm. She went from one sparse, filmic idea in “Encounter” to an overabundance of heavy melo themes in “Thirty Nine”, so where is this one going to land?

Well, “Attorney Shin” falls somewhere between “Encounter” and “Thirty Nine” which is sort of unfortunate because it fails to find a distinct voice for itself. The heavy melo is pulled right back as it progresses but returns to wallow a little at the end. It all feels too weighty for the context that carries it. Is that just me and my Western preferences? The real problem however, is that there is no obvious driving force for the plot, no real central core idea or theme. The result is that it ambles along with the pacing of at least a 16 part drama if not a 50 part one and I suspect that this is what Yoo Young Ah finds difficult to master in her transition from film to drama.

You have to wait until the end of Episode 6 for any substantial theme to really get going. But what is it? Is it revenge? Is it guilt? Well sort of maybe… Then towards the end it finally emerges from the peep show that it’s been playing with you, but far too late in the piece to compensate you for the wait. If Yoo Young Ah is aiming for the type of territory that Park Hae Young likes to inhabit (My Mister, My Liberation Notes) which is incisive, insightful, slice of life with limited plot, then it’s not quite got the daring that her sunbae so ably plays with. The characters are too close to conformity to really strike the depth and thoughtfulness required and the melo is forced.

In a drama that homes in on believability the antagonist was the least convincing character and needed way more airtime early on to make her motivations and underlying emotions more credible. Because she was the weakest character the quasi revenge plot had no real anchor-point and instead became an untethered buoy tossed about by the waves.

Sorry guys, but I do just have to get something off my chest at this point about the melo. The first episode plunges you right into it and winds on up getting more hysterically tear-fuelled in Episode 2. Then we sail merrily on to the obligatory wringing of hands and instant about-face of a truly obnoxious, self-serving asshole who suddenly sees The-Light-on-the-Road-to-Damascus and falls to their knees as a penitent sinner aspiring to sainthood. Hallelujah! It’s a miracle!! Praise the Lord!!! Such false and hypocritical sentimentality is unfortunately the bain of these dramas and it really hacks me off. Listen up guys, obnoxious, self-serving assholes don’t change overnight if they ever change at all. And yes, I too wish that they did, but really, truly, they don’t.

Okay rant over, let’s find out what I liked.

There’s a beautifully realised vein of humour running throughout that centres around the camaraderie of three middle-aged men. Both the script and the actors bring it to life delightfully and it is the beating heart of the story.

Cho Seung Woo makes a wonderful job of the sincere but bordering-on-dorky lawyer with an execrable taste in trot music that his 100% slather-over-desirable stereo system is (surely) mortified and embarrassed to play. (I think my musical taste would honour you far more sincerely and I am quite happy to pay for shipping costs if you should ever have the desire to re-home yourself.)

Second up is the character actor, Jung Moon Sung, whom I have a soft spot for. He can play anything well, from a gangster to this current incarnation as a clueless but fiercely loyal real-estate agent with a reprehensible taste in shirts.

Finally there is Kim Sun Kyun who warms your cockles by playing the bumbling, oblivious heartthrob in desperate need of a razor.

Unfortunately, Han Hye Jin fails to convince as the embarrassed radio host. She plays the part as though she’s trying to imitate how she imagines someone might act, rather than grabbing the internal reality of it. As a result she looks awkward in all the wrong ways.

It was a pretty nondescript OST. And to whoever did that bloody awful rendition of the Moonlight Sonata (obviously not Lim Yun Chan…) the accent in the first movement, if anywhere, should be on the first note of the triplet not banging away on the last one causing all sorts of rhythmic chaos.

Overall there was enough in this drama to make it watchable and immersive for the viewer. But it was like having a few tasty components in a meal that doesn’t leave you feeling satisfied afterwards.

(For those in the know) Beware! Classic Trebuchet Incident Alert…

What my rating means: 7+ A watchable drama, but nothing exceptional. Good enough to qualify for the race, but finished with the pack. The sort of thing that promises more than it delivers.

Read More

You can’t dress up a shopping bag and call it a Vuitton original.

A good drama has to start with memorable characters and an insightful script. Unfortunately, the lead characters lacked depth, which is the hook that gets you intrigued. And early in the drama, when so many of the supporting cast verge on caricature, you are in deep trouble. I finally engaged at Episode 14 and hoped that the last two episodes might offer something good. But unfortunately not.

All the good cinematography, costumes, direction and acting in the world won’t make up for mediocre writing, whereas good writing can sometimes carry a show lacking in other departments. Unfortunately, in the main, the script was bland and occasionally descended into cringe-worthy cliché. It was sprinkled with unrealistic dialogue and spoken thoughts that often sounded remarkably like quotes from the Little Book of Banal.

It took until three-quarters of the way through for me to feel that the writer had any serious grasp of the issues that she was trying to reveal. It’s all very well to explore the concept that letting someone go can be a way of loving them, but you need to convincingly show the whole arc. In so many episodes, only the obvious was presented and if it doesn’t take you by surprise, you don’t feel you have been drawn in. You merely skate along the surface with everyone else and learn nothing. It does not strike your heart as a truth.

We were not given a proper start to the relationship, it seemed to arise fully formed, like Venus, out of the waves of a one-night stand. And somehow, with barely a hint of conversation, a great deal of obstinate rejection and a liberal dose of patronising condescension, love emerged. From Here to Eternity was suddenly swirling on the beach. The explanation? Destiny and a photograph… The actors were given only a tiny fragment of a foundation to stand on and build their parts convincingly. It’s not surprising therefore, that I failed to connect and give the relationship the degree of credibility it was asking for.

There were not many places for JKY to explore in the character of the male lead. For most of the drama, Jae Guk’s inner conflicts and decision making-processes were not really investigated and surely, in the circumstances of the story, there must have been some discordant motivations and doubts. It was Episode 11 before the character Jae Guk got something to ruffle his feathers. As a result I can somewhat forgive JKY for the lack-lustre performance.

The writing was a little better for the female lead and I did feel that SHK was given enough to be able to explore the emotional landscape in a bit more depth. But again, there could have been more in the performance. Perhaps a rather mundane direction by Lee Gil Bok, didn’t help. New to being a director (this is his second drama in that role), I don’t think he had the insight and feel for how to show-not-tell that Ahn Pan Seok so excels at. Actors need help to bring out their best, subtle performances in these more mature, sotto voce dramas.

I felt that the writer, Je In, was more in her groove and had a deeper appreciation to contribute to the sub-plot involving Mi Suk (Park Hyo Ju). Here the reactions and sentiments expressed were more insightful and this is where, for me, the most moving and interesting parts of the drama lay.

Every writer has a genre that they are good at. Misty was a far superior product. Romance has it’s own skill-set and from this offering, I’m not sure Je In has really understood or mastered it.

As for the sound track, even the singer sounded bored. The theme tune homage to Chopin didn’t fit with the other music in the show and seemed uncomfortably out of place.

It was a cast of actors whom I have seen many times before and whom I know can offer up a good performance when strong writing demands it. The performances I enjoyed were some of the supporting cast, notably Yoon Na Moo as Mi Suk’s husband. Only Kim Joo Heon of the leads convinced me and as with everything in this drama, I had to wait for it.

What my rating means: 4+ I forced myself to go through to the end of it, but only because I was committed to writing the review. It annoyed the hell out of me. Actively avoid.

Read More

Not your usual twisted thriller...

This is complete fantasy, not in the sense of a fantasy world, but fantasy as in phantasmagorical. It’s a sort of teenage dream sequence and I like it. (Thanks Skitc for the recommendation) It couples total teenage angst with savage violence. This isn’t about reality, but the balancing out of intense impulses, living at the extremes. An allegory for the raging torrent/torment of hormones that just about allows you to hang in there by your fingertips and survive, somehow appearing almost normal on the surface.

Just don’t try and make rational sense of it. Don’t look for credible motives or realistic psychology, simply immerse yourself and enjoy the ride. There are lots of lol moments, gory moments, weird moments, surreal moments and, strangely, smile moments.

There are also clunky moments with the script and a few convenient tropes like the obligatory memory loss and some clumsy plot structure. It’s also pretty clear what’s going to happen in the end. But overall it holds up without being unnecessarily complicated, probably due to the short length.

I like the cinematography for the fight scenes, which is not coherent, but messy, just like the fights themselves. I also appreciated the soundtrack which doesn’t necessarily take the obvious path.

The best of it are the scenes between Park Se Won and Song Geon Hee as the central couple. They had a great dynamic and their relationship was the glue that held everything together. The other cast is quirky-weird with great performances by Yang Yang (Cha Joo Young ) and her sidekick Jang Hyeon Min (actor not listed on MDL, cast list needs filling out, sorry can’t do it don’t read hangul). Also in the mix is an OTT drug induced psychotic villain who twitches his way through the series and a creepy sadist who does, well, creepy sadist things. And yes, it’s pretty violent and twisted.

What my rating means: 8+ A great drama with interesting content and good writing, direction, acting, OST, cinematography. But didn’t quite have the requisite sparkle to bump it into my all-time fave list. Worth watching.

Read More

Every vacuous cliché in every vacuous episode

When you’ve already hit the record for maximum clichés in an episode in the first week of broadcasting, you know where it’s going. Recycled cheese.

Accidentally falling into ML’s arms? Check: so many times I lost count.
Toilet joke. Check: in your face x 2
Mean work colleagues. Check: 100% all round.
Ridiculously unbelievable “heroism”— look no rope. Check: (give me strength).
Umbrella in the rain scene. Check x 2
Pulling FL out of the path of an oncoming scooter: Check.
FL carried bride-style for no good reason. Check x 2
Wall to wall, endless, inappropriate PP. Check.

And on and on and on…

I really looked for something original in there but totally failed to find it. (No actually, come to think of it, the fully and explicitly enunciated English language, “What the Fuck!” in Ep 8 was pretty original.) Even compared to other productions in its genre I don’t think it stands up.

The script is the sort of random mess that doesn’t have any highlights except for the obligatory stepping stones of a common or garden romcom which it forces onto the characters regardless of character integrity. It manufactures ridiculous scenarios in order to include endless PP (episode ten was unbearable, just skip it) or linger endlessly on eyes gazing longingly at each other. A teenage dream fantasy fulfilled at least once in every episode and twice on Sundays. I was just sooooo bored.

The majority of the characters were cookie cutters with no discernable defining characteristics and no opportunities in the script to show depth. Were there secondary relationships? Maybe, it was so long between interactions I’d almost forgotten who the characters were.

So is there a saving grace? Well yes there is, but it’s the only one I can find. Fantastic, sizzling chemistry and eye candy. All those years of idol training haven’t gone to waste, Jun Ho is pose perfect in every close up and Yoon Ah knows very well how to melt into an embrace (no ironing boards here). Seeing as that is probably the number one requirement for many viewers it would probably explain the ridiculously high rating for the show (8.4 at time of writing). Will it up the rating as far as I’m concerned? Well… no.

Maybe I’ve missed the point. Perhaps the whole raison d’être of the genre is to be a sucky blanket of repetitive clichés with no discernible plot to showcase pretty faces, and I’m doing that unforgivable thing of criticising something for what it never set out to be. But I’m stupid enough to live in hope that somehow this genre will one day produce something clever, witty, memorable, funny and original. Just give up why don’t you!!

I think my problem is that I really want a funny-romantic sucky blanket too. Who doesn’t? But just not like this. I want something more sophisticated and worthy of the quality of the actors that star in it. ‘Cause I’ve been a fan of Jun Ho ever since “Just Between Lovers” and consider that the guy can act and has taken on some non-standard roles. (He was the only reason for considering watching this in the first place.) I was cringing with secondary embarrassment for both of the leads at least once an episode. Jeez these guys earn their living.

Okay, next time you see a romcom on my Currently Watching list, kindly do me a huge favour and msge me a reminder that I’m going to spend the entire time rolling my eyes and pushing myself to the end of the episode, so not to bother however much I might want to consider it as a reviewer.

What may rating means: 3+ Totally unbearable, but often compulsively watchable as you really can’t believe that it can be this bad.

Read More

Stuck in traffic on a very long winded Road Home

My education in Chinese dramas continues apace with this romantic offering. This is 100% about relationship; every sigh, every tear, every regret, every breath, every tender touch, every long lingering look (and there are a glut of them to the point of nausea) is lovingly laid out for you. So if you’re a romance junkie, this one’s totally for you. And the leads make a very creditable job of the chemistry even though the script circumnavigated the globe rather than let them get skin on skin.

Quite how they managed to act this well amidst the shambling, third rate budget production going on around them is to their credit, because once it strays into any other territory it’s like sailing through lumpy porridge. I recommend just scooting through and only watching the scenes between the leads in the first half, then skip to the end. You won’t miss anything and then the drama might seem quite good and you’ll be less likely to fall asleep at the wheel.

The ML works as a bomb disposal expert (for once the job matched the personality) however, there’s a laughable lack of procedure around it. Although, it does do a good job of highlighting the stress to the family of people involved in such dangerous work. The FL is cast in the stay-cheerful-be-long-suffering-self-sacrifice-to-the-end part: “I am willing to donate half my husband for the country”. ’Nuff said. But at least she has a professional job and a life of her own. As with most Chinese stuff, it’s got an education emphasis, complete with nifty tips and tricks. This one centres on how to be grown ups and have a long-distance relationship.

The plot has the feel of the writer gets up in the morning and thinks, as they chomp their toast and gulp their coffee, okay I need to go shopping, get the kids to basketball, ring my mother, renew the car insurance, organise a Creatively Exhausted Writers support group meeting and, oh, script the next episode. Hmmm, not got a lot of time to be imaginative today so they can just chat aimlessly for half an hour, then I’ll use that idea I had lying around from the last drama I wrote.

The problem being, they think that every morning so there’s not a lot of forward planning going on with the result that there is very little flow or cohesion, just a random sequence of scenes. Some of the playing out of crises is — well—embarrassing. Obviously where research and experience are absent, fantasy has a ball. Actually there’s very little plot at all and it could all be over and done with in six episodes including plumbing some depth. The whole thing is a perfect definition for “filler episodes”.

Okay you have to have a little bit of sympathy when they obviously had the brief to talk up some barren desert and sell it like it’s prime Manhattan real estate. Not sure what Mandarin word they actually used, but “pretty” is not what springs to mind. Don’t get me wrong here, I genuinely love the outback, but my descriptive words and feelings might sound more like awe inspiring, powerful, unlimited and silent. And I wouldn’t go out there in a skirt and high heels.

As for the dialogue; banal and directionless come to mind with occasional sparks of insight between the leads, as though someone on the writing team had some time to think creatively that day. And the pacing? It’s a very, very long road home and expect to crawl along like you’re stuck in traffic.

There’s not a great deal of understanding about how to build tension using cinematography, editing and soundtrack. Oh, just do normal tracking shots with some random music over the top, then a couple of close-ups—that’ll work. Or continuing to film in an urban location where the wind was so hard into the microphone it almost drowned out the dialogue. At times the editing is really bad, with lots of scenes rammed together like shish kebab on a skewer. Even on HD streaming some of it looked out of focus and badly lit.

On a more serious note, there’s a storyline about a kid being educated away from home, who gets shunted around like a pass the parcel. Even when he was at home, he spent long periods on his own whilst his father worked away. Then we find out that his new main carer has 200 days of business trips a year. I found it profoundly sad and not least because the writing team thought that was a situation they didn’t really need to investigate much.

What my rating means: 4+ I forced myself to go through to the end of it, but only because I was committed to writing the review. It annoyed the hell out of me. Actively avoid.

Read More

Individuality that grew on me as the show progressed.

At first I was not convinced by this drama, but it drew me in. Mainly because it told the story straight and didn’t try to avoid or gloss over the character failings. It has the feeling of something outside the normal Kdrama style of story. Perhaps that comes from being an adaptation of a novel. Novelists are often freer to express themselves and less pressured to the accepted norms of the entertainment industry.

This is not for the morally squeamish. If you like your male leads to be whiter than white this is not the drama for you. It is not afraid to dabble in the sort of dirty dealings that are the bread and butter of competitive and cutthroat industries like sport.

It has a simple straightforward plot which showcases the character development that forms the heart of the story. This is a strength in the second half of the show, but for me it didn’t work well in the first half.

At the beginning the FL appears too innocent for the traumas that she had experienced when young. This made it difficult to fully believe in the relationships and interactions she had with others. She is a character that knows how to use aggression to win, however, when she is harassed she doesn’t fight back but allows herself to be pushed into something that she could have escaped from. I think that more insight was needed into her internal feelings and reasonings to make this part work. However, increasingly, Kim So Hye came to the table and visibly grew up.

Lee Sang Yeob (an actor I like watching) convinced as the unscrupulous agent, but I had to do some hard work to overcome the ambivalence created by some of his character’s actions early on. Congrats to the director for not forcing the melo too much. It helped to keep the viewer grounded in the reality of the story.

A quick shout out for Park Ji Hwan, who made a great job of the hypocritical asshole villain. My skin crawled every time he was on screen.

If you have come for the romance, you will probably be disappointed. It is there but not in the forefront. This is more a story about shining a light on yourself, facing your weaknesses, taking responsibility and changing. I didn’t find the romance part of it particularly convincing. But having said that, I did feel that Kim So Hye found the innocence of the character early on in this regard and played it sweetly.

Finally, a quibble that I have, and this goes for a number of sports/action type shows, is that the industry requirement for female actors to be rake thin means that their body types are not credible for the physicality which these roles demand. In reality, bantam weight boxers are pretty muscled up, so there is constantly a huge credibility gap to be negotiated.

Overall, not a brilliant show, but with enough edge to make it stand out as individual.

Read More

Don’t Frighten the Horses

Well I got what I was wanting, something totally unchallenging. Yes I just wanted to veg out for a few days and this met the bill exactly. It also provided a good number of unscripted lmao moments as the ludicrousness - if that’s even a real word, it has the ring of a non-aural onomatopoeia - unfolded shamelessly before my eyes. It’s no Ming Lan, which is a pity because taken a bit more seriously it had all the ingredients. So how can I really get stuck into something that managed to keep me watching for all 40 episodes. There has got to be some good stuff there even though it undermined itself at every opportunity.

The storylines had interest and they offered good opportunity for character development and showcasing contrasting character traits. This is mainly what kept me engaged for the duration, although even this wore a bit thin at the end. They were a series of set pieces rather than one long twisting narrative twisting and these varied scenarios were paced well and showcased different characters.

But the time taken to achieve remarkable results was drastically foreshortened. Things that should have taken at least two years were achieved in six months. In doing this, all sense of realism and difficulty was undermined and the whole drama, and particularly the characters, were coated with a gloss of immature fantasy. The script didn’t help by reducing the business conversations to a mockery. Simply by lengthening the time-frames and writing more credible business dealings the characters could have achieved so much more depth and been offered space to reveal determination, grit and courage which were not really evident in the easy-success-piled-on-easy-success procession. It was episode 32 before there was any bite and real consequences were more fully explored. Unfortunately, before and to some extent, after that, any nasty unpleasantness had a feel-good blanket pulled over it.

Although lip service was paid, the opportunity was mainly missed as there was no real exploration of the cost or difficulty. Things happened and slid by without much of the proverbial s**t sticking to the protagonists. In fact they glided through the whole thing with serene, wrinkleless (another impossible word) faces. I was less than impressed by Hu Yi Tian (Gu Yan Xi) who managed to get through virtually the whole thing with one facial expression, except for the odd occasion where the director requested him to open his eyes in surprise. Which he did, to mirthful effect. Zhang Jing Yi (Hua Zhi) was a little more expressive, but remained far too calm to be convincing. The chemistry between them was placid rather than fizzing without that visible excitement you get when you’re bang slap in love.

I was more invested in some of the minor characters who had more life and animation. It was a large cast and showcased female actors and the story was predominantly shown from the women’s perspective, particularly early on.

Read More

A pretty ordinary show with an attractive twist

There’s an aura surrounding this show that is emotionally very attractive, and all credit has to be given to Park Eun Bin for creating it so convincingly. But once you get beneath that, the show itself is nothing particularly special. It is a procedural law show that examines quirky cases over the course of one or two episodes in a particularly cerebral way and there is nothing new about it.

To be honest, by the end of the series the shine had worn off for me. The supporting cast had fairly bland characters and the rivalry between the two law firms did not have any teeth with the result that there was very little tension created other than how Attorney Woo was going to win the case this time.

The romance really didn’t work for me at all and I couldn’t see why those two particular characters would be together and what the connection was between them. Joon Ho’s explanation, in the final episode, of the nature of his feelings did fit, but to be honest I felt such a basis for a relationship was pretty off. I think a totally different type of man would have been a better fit for Young Woo, one who could connect with her intellectually rather than emotionally.

One thing the show did very convincingly was to showcase the different responses to autism and illustrate effective methods of communication. It was a bit self-consciously“worthy” at times, but it definitely fulfilled its educational remit.

Park Eun Bin’s performance was outstanding. She managed to reveal so much through her facial expressions and body movements and if nothing else it is worth watching a few episodes of the show for her performance. However, I won’t be watching the sequel, there is not enough there to entice me.

What my rating means: 7+ A watchable drama, but nothing exceptional. Good enough to qualify for the race, but finished with the pack. The sort of thing that promises more than it delivers.

Read More

A nuanced exploration of the borderline between reality and fantasy.

My take on this production is that it is a nuanced exploration of the role that is played by imagination, fantasy, belief and hope (all aspects of the magic/escapism portrayed in the show) in creating a bearable reality for ourselves. The extent to which these things are credited is a reflection of the degree of desperation in the character, which in turn determines the degree of “reality” they invest in “magic” itself. The more desperate is the situation of the character, the greater the necessity to escape from their current life and the more credible “magic” is for them. One of the messages was that simple pleasures and snatched enjoyment is the real magic of life. The drama showcases the tyranny of too tight a hold on reality/normality and the tyranny of losing oneself to imagination and fantasy. It also plays with the blurred line that divides them through three primary characters. The value they place on “magic” is dependent on the perceived cost if it was removed. At various points, particularly in the song lyrics, the characters clearly state their attitudes towards “magic” what drives them to hold those beliefs.

For Yoon ah Yi, the FL (Choi Sung Eun), there is a necessity to reduce hope and expectation to a point where she can endure the burden of failure created by the crushing responsibilities of her life. She is so close to the edge of breakdown and despair that when something to inspire her to keep going presents itself, she grabs hold of it, however unbelievable. She needs to believe in something “magical” in order to make it worthwhile to continue living at all.

Na Il Deung, the young ML (Hwang In Yeop), has a plan for life which he is acting out, made by his affluent family and sanctioned by society. His reason for dreaming of magic is different. It is around self-determination and control. Initially his belief in “magic” is something to be kept in the cupboard and taken out in emergencies, it is a possible option. But as the personal cost in terms of his current reality becomes apparent so his desire for escape increases. Magic represents the attraction of the different, the path not travelled and a chance to be himself.

The role of the magician (Ji Chang Wook) straddles the border between reality and fantasy and the viewer is deliberately kept in the dark about who he is and what he is capable of. His hold on external reality is so tenuous that it is essential for him that others believe in his “magic”. This is how he can manage to survive. This beautifully underscores the role of hope in life. To dream the impossible, but close enough to possible that it might actually happen.

Finally there is the parrot who speaks what is, rather than what any character would like to believe or what they are trying to hide, and is perhaps the closest representation of an objective reality.

The drama showcases two typically Korean concerns. The loss of family with the result of having to face life and responsibilities on one’s own without support and to be ostracised from normal society. And at the other extreme, what is required by those in the higher echelons where the pressure of education and career demand rigid conformity which crushes all individuality. The setting highlights the dynamics of power and privilege and the inherent powerlessness of disadvantage. Exposing the hidden advantages that make a nonsense of the assumption that life is in any way fair, and the obscenity of the notion “if I can do it, anyone can do it.”

The cast did a fantastic job. A leaner looking Ji Chang Wook, which suited the part, came up trumps as the magician. I’ve always rated him as an actor and wanted to see him in more serious roles and this has fulfilled that wish. He is good. Also Choi Sung Eun brought a believable sensitivity to her part, which could easily have been overplayed and sentimental.

Rather than being a musical as such, I felt that the music was used to enhance the unreality/fantasy element of the production. I would like to have been more impressed by the soundtrack but it was fairly standard. Commonplace tempo, generic arrangements, gentle voices - normal bland. It was also less used as the show progressed and the glowing fantasy around magic deteriorated.

It was the choreography in the first couple of episodes that I expected more from. This is Korea after all, with arguably some of the best dancers in the world to choose from. Yet it was an opportunity missed. The choreography lacked any flair and could have been much more creatively used in the dream sequences and the musical interludes in general.

The ending was a little clumsy and did not match the mood or subtlety of the rest of the production. It felt tacked on and would perhaps have been better woven into the story earlier on.

Overall I really liked this production. I suspect that if I watched it again I would see totally different perspectives and take away a whole load of new thoughts. Any show that can do this is definitely quality.

What my rating means: 8+ A great drama with interesting content and good writing, direction, acting, OST, cinematography. But didn’t quite have the requisite sparkle to bump it into my all-time fave list. Worth watching.

Read More

The reality of hope. A deeply compassionate drama.

Both writer (Park Hae Young) and director (Kim Seok Yoon) know how to create sensitive dramas built around pathos, but with a cutting edge. Kim directed “The Light in Your Eyes” and Park penned the class act that is “My Mister”. You can imagine what you will be getting, and they deliver on it—in spades.

At the start there is little to attract in the main characters. They are all struggling to find any sort of meaning in soul-destroying lives that are dominated by a long and exhausting commute to the city from their countryside home. But this writer has a beautiful knack of taking that ordinary exterior and peeling away the layers to reach the vulnerability and struggling humanity within. And by the end of episode 2 you are totally captivated by these self-scored 20/100 characters. Add to that a director and cinematographer who know how to capture the smallest twitch of a muscle in a face and make it speak volumes. And actors like Kim Ji Won and particularly Son Seok Koo, who can work with them to reveal the interior life of a character without words.

As with “My Mister” the raw material at the heart of this drama is family and the unfathomable glue that holds it together despite difference, ambivalence and natural preferences. Essentially they are characters weighed down with who they are, wishing they were something else, ignorant of how to change but trying to work out how to make things different. They are trapped and struggling to emerge, like butterflies, from chrysalises of painfully low self-esteem, guilt and negative thinking. If this doesn’t sound like an attractive proposition, it is the skill and wonder of the whole production to make it compulsive viewing. Each of the characters draws you to themselves and touches your compassion as they struggle towards the elusive future that beckons them.

The plot meanders through their realisations and lurches along with them. In the main it works but occasionally loses its way, particularly later on when time hopping causes inevitable fragmentation. I was not convinced that this disordering of time to create tension was strictly necessary as the depth of the characterisations are sufficient to carry you through. However, imo, it would be counter-productive to enforce a regular development on a drama that is essentially exploring the vagaries of the human psyche with all its winding roads, u-turns and blind alleys. The unevenness of it creates the overall mood and ambience of the drama and reflects the stop-go nature of real life.

The drama features the standard three leads and their relationships; but this is not a standard romance drama. Relationship itself is the focal point, not the falling in love. Essentially it examines how we can approach and be with each other whilst still retaining ourselves. And suggests that the only way we can live with both ourselves and with others is by being honest and taking the hit for doing so, as we work towards self-acceptance and self-understanding. Ultimately it is upbeat, but open ended.

There are no generic characters here. Each one, even the minor players, has been carefully created and presented with depth and there are some wonderful observational details and cameo performances.

Lee Min Ki does such a great job with the character arc of the irrepressible, oblivious and impulsive Chang Hee. His confusion and lumbering realisations are beautifully portrayed and provide a flicker of humour darting through the shadows. How can you not fall in love with him? Especially over the car!

I have an affinity with Yeon Mi Jung and the things she prayed about as a child. The character is played elusively by Kim Ji Won who manages to capture the enigmatic exterior that hides the depth and singularity of her character’s thinking and perceptions. You are always waiting expectantly for what left-field thing will emerge from her mouth. Occasionally the script can feel a little pretentious and self-conscious, but it is mainly because the writer is wanting to explore non-intuitive ideas and trains of thought. If there is a reason to rewatch the series, then I think Mi Jung is it. A second time round, understanding the character arc, would illuminate much of her early actions and responses.

Perhaps the most vulnerable of the three is Yeon Ki Jung, portrayed with empathy by Lee El, who manages to undermine herself at every turn and perhaps elicits the broadest spectrum of responses from both the viewer and the other characters, from exasperation to total compassion.

The interloper into the family is played convincingly by Son Seok Koo who manages to capture the multi-facets of Gu Ja Gyeong from brooding to awkward to nasty to vulnerable. The character and his background provide a disturbing contrast to the rest of the drama and sometimes jarred for me. If there is any flaw in the credibility it comes with the ending for this character. But his time on screen is compulsive viewing and many of the scenes between him and Kim Ji Won are very special, full of nuanced, silent communication and unspoken feelings from both of them.

The cinematography and editing has more the feel of a film to it, as though the camera is just a neutral observer hanging around and we see the action though those non-judgemental eyes. It lingers on contemplative faces and reveals hidden depths. In many ways the whole drama doesn’t criticise or condemn, but tries to simply observe. And in that observation there is the balance and compassion that colours the whole production. Nothing is too polished or self conscious. It draws you in and places you firmly in the action as a participant in this slice of life. Beautifully done.

There is also a very restrained use of a soundtrack, so that often it is the silence that holds you in the moment with the character. There is a lot of simple piano music, ethereal voices and soulful songs, which have been carefully chosen to highlight the mood. Did I catch “So Tender” by Say Sue Me from “Nevertheless” in Ep 11 at 47’, playing in the cafe scene between Yeon Ki Jung and Jo Tae Hoon. I think I heard it earlier with regard to this couple as well.

This was a special drama for me and goes straight onto my personally recommended list.

What my rating means: 9+   A drama I totally fell in love with and is endlessly re-watchable. It ticked all the boxes and had some serious wow factor. It would go on my personally recommended list.

Read More