Grade: C
Category
Romantic comedy
with a side of light cultural commentary
What it’s about
After a life of
unthinkable privation (oh, no! She can’t afford a Birkin bag?!?), a
hardworking Kdrama girl vows to do whatever it takes to marry into Seoul’s posh Cheongdamdong
neighborhood. Various degrees of soul selling ensue.
First impression
Ah, the perils of
really loving a currently airing show: all I want to do is watch the
next episode of Flower Boy Next Door, but I have to wait an
entire week for it to air. In the meanwhile, shows that might
seem perfectly acceptable under other circumstances just won’t do
it for me. Take Cheongdamdong Alice: it feels
slick and spendy, but ultimately hollow when compared to lived-in,
contemplative nature of FBND. Park Shi Hoo is cute and Moon
Geun Young is as darling as ever, but the design-wannabe storyline is
starting to feel awfully threadbare. Barring an injection of depth
and humanity in the near future, Cheongdamdong Alice isn’t
looking like a winner for me.
Final verdict
The best thing I
can say about this drama is that I didn’t dislike it enough to stop
watching. It’s a show that has
some interesting things to say about our status-mad world, but
they’re lost in the shuffle of ritualized Kdrama busyness.
Cheongdamdong
Alice’s central
premise had a lot of promise: What happens when a standard-issue
Kdrama heroine decides that she’s wasting her time by working hard
at mundane drudgery and sets her sights on marrying a man with money?
Instead of all those early morning milk deliveries, she devotes
herself to finding an Alice in Wonderland-inspired
white rabbit to introduce her to life on the other side of the
tracks. Naturally, the lines between predator and prey are blurred
when Se Kyeung, the female lead, finds herself falling in love with
the secretary she plans to use for his connections with his über-rich boss. And as this is a Korean drama, said secretary turns out
to be said boss, masquerading as a working stiff for some reason or
another.
And
so we come to the fundamental problem with this show: it doesn’t
use its toys very well. None of the characters feel organic or fully
formed, and so their actions are almost always inexplicable. Their
behavior is designed to move the plot from one hair-raising
close-call to another, not to tell a story about recognizable human
beings with real motivations who are looking for better lives, no
matter the cost. There were just enough good things about the show to
keep me interested,
but the plot eventually became so baroque that I completely checked
out and gave up trying to figure out what was going on.
Park
Shi Hoo’s Jean Thierry Cha/Secretary Kim/Cha Seung Jo suffers
particularly from the script’s inconsistent, opportunistic
characterization: In one scene he’s broken, in the next he’s
bonkers, and then in the one after that he’s a gleeful sprite.
There’s no point of connection between any of these moods—Park
Shi Hoo is a good looking guy, but his acting abilities just aren’t
up to making this sloppy mess work. It’s not even that the drama
couldn’t handle the multiple disguises he uses during its run; the
real issue is that it never gave him a character to play in the first
place. He’s just an untethered collection of actions and
over-the-top gesticulations.
Se
Kyeung had moments of steely greatness, but suffered from a similar
lack of solid characterization. Her dream of becoming a fashion
designer is used as plot fodder in the first few episodes, and then
totally abandoned—she gives up utterly after meeting a single
roadblock in her chosen profession. Her desire to be a designer is
just a chance for the show to indulge in a lot of product placement,
not part of her character’s DNA.
In
truth, Cheongdamdong Alice’s
most compelling character isn’t one of the leads: it’s Yoon Jo,
Se Kyeung’s mean-girl high school classmate and eventual advisor in
her quest to become a trophy wife. A more interesting, brutal version
of this story would have been told from her perspective: married to a
man she doesn’t really love, she’s treated like a servant his by
his frigid family. She puts up with it all, though, so she can have
the latest designer bags and lord her new-found wealth over the
little people in her life. It’s her journey that’s most
interesting—how lonely must her world have been, living with people
who didn’t care about her? (Or each other, even.) And just what did
her decision at the end of the show cost her own family?
Cheongdamdong
Alice wasted its strong cast and
interesting premise, becoming just another a slick-but-soulless
network distraction that you’ll forget one second after you watch
its final episode. Too bad, because it could have been so much more.
Random
thoughts
• Episode 2.
It sure is weird to see the
ex-girlfriend from Whatchya Wearing fully
clothed. She hasn't made much of an impression so far in this show—I
actually suspect that it will be all downhill from Answer
Me, 1997 for her.
• Episode 2.
Honey, I’m not sure you get
how this whole blackmail thing is supposed to work. You have
something she wants, right? So you get to ask her for something you
want. Like pots of money, maybe. If you’re going to sell your soul,
why do it the hard way?
• Episode 3.
I’m all for this flower boy
craze, but I could do without lip color on guys. When this episode
was being shot, Park Shi Hoo must have either spent all his time
eating grape popsicles or touching up his Maybelline Everlasting Wine
#05 lipstick.
• Episode 3.
Between this show and Flower
Boy Next Door, it seems we have
two new drama trends brewing this year: high school mean girls who
continue to torment their victims into adulthood, and men with
foreign names that aren’t common in English-speaking countries.
Enrique, meet Jean Thierry.
• Episode 3.
Those pants! That angle! I think
I just saw little Shi Hoo...
• Episode 5.
Here’s another scene
repeat—both Arang and the Magistrate and
this show feature characters who get all hot and bothered while
someone’s being measured for clothes. Things would have really have
gotten out of hand if she’d tried to measure his inseam...
• Episode 6.
It seems that the slightly mean
male lead of the past few years (think Joon Pyo from Boys
Over Flowers) has been replaced
with a new archetype: the goofball. First we had Gong Yoo in Big,
followed by the male leads in this show and I Miss You.
And let’s not forget the biggest spazz of them all: Flower
Boy Next Door’s Enrique.
• Episode 7.
Spin the bottle exists in both America and Asia, yet has a totally
different meaning on each continent. Here, the person who spins the
bottle has to kiss the person it ends up pointing at, usually for a
predetermined length of time. There, spin the bottle seems to be a
variant of truth or dare. (I guess that explains why there was so
little kissing in the BoF spin the bottle scene, to my massive
disappointment.)
• Episode 10. Kdramas love a
deep, dark secret. This drama may have finally hit the bottom of that
particular barrel, though: Its male lead just confessed that he has a
long, sordid history as an internet troll. What a silly little bunny.
• Episode 10. What’s going
on with your jacket in this scene, Park Shi Hoo? Did you kill and
skin a muppet on your way to the shoot?
• Episode 15. Those mood
bunnies sure are weird. Hardly any of them are actually evocative of
the emotion they’re supposed to convey—is this because stuffed
toys can only be so expressive? Or is it because reading facial
expressions across cultures is harder than we think? All I know for
sure is that in English “charisma” isn’t something that comes
and goes based on what you’re wearing, as the bunnies suggest. It’s
an inherent, permanent trait, like being tall.
• Episode 16. There’s a lot
of English-language writing in this drama. Of course, it all has a
uniquely Korean spin, like the ever-present “VVIP.” In America,
we have no need for the extra V—being
very important is good enough for us.
• Episode 16. That kiss really
brought new meaning to the phrase “suck face.” (Mostly because
Park Shi Hoo appeared to actually be sucking on her face.)
Watch it
You might also like
Baby-faced Beauty, for its fashion-centric plot
I didn't feel any connection at all with any of the characters or they with themselves. I watched the whole thing but just chalked up to "oh well". The lead actor is certainly in a bit of hot water right now. That's far more interesting than this drama.
ReplyDeleteI totally agree. And the Park Shi Hoo thing is making me incredibly sad. There's absolutely no good resolution to it—he's either a rapist or some awful combination of stupid and naive to have allowed himself to get into a situation like that. And I guess I'm some combination of stupid and naive, too, because I'm really gobsmacked by the whole thing. He's one of those stars you always hear nice things about: he sends the people who work on his dramas on pricey tropical vacations, he's in love with his cute cat, he goes out of his way to watch the finales of his shows with fans. And then this?
DeleteAnd even if it were somehow proven that the allegations aren't true, it's still a huge smirch on his reputation and maybe the end of his career. Which its own kind of sad and upsetting: being tried and convicted by the court of public opinion isn't right.
::whispers:: At least it wasn't Gong Yoo, because that really would have killed me.
more whispers - I agree but even more so to me if it had been Hyun Bin!
DeleteI am completely in agreement with everything you said about the show.
ReplyDeleteI'm going to have to look into this Park Shi Hoo thing because I have no idea what you guys are talking about, but now I'm intrigued.
You've got to check it out!
ReplyDeletehttp://english.chosun.com/site/data/html_dir/2013/02/25/2013022500675.html
Well as for me, i think that Park si hoo's leading lady doesn't match with him. I think its better uf it was the girl i the "Princess's Man. There Is no connection at all. Very disappointed.
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