Size matters

When I first discovered the existence of Korean dramas, the most surprising thing about them was probably their length. I had always assumed that there was only one way to make a TV show: build a premise for which you can create an infinite number of story lines, and then prepare to tell those stories in hundreds of episodes that will air over the course of years. This makes for lots of programs about doctors trying to cure an ailment of the week, lawyers bringing a never-ending stream of criminals to trial, and families with a plethora of miniature problems that can be solved in thirty minutes or less. Nobody grows or changes or learns, because the whole point is to preserve the central premise in amber, forever unchanged and incorruptible.

This is one of the reasons why Korea’s miniseries were such a revelation. In the space of sixteen episodes, they create worlds, establish characters and conflicts within those worlds, and then guide their stories to satisfying conclusions. That’s my kind of storytelling—novelistic and self-contained.

It took me a while to realize, though, that there’s more to scripted drama in Korea. The short miniseries I love (which themselves are creeping ever upward from the 16-episode standard of yore) are cousins to both the weekend home drama, typically running in the 50 episode range, and the weekend sageuk, sometimes lasting for more than a hundred episodes. And there are other shows that hit triple digits—both daily dramas and sitcoms sometimes run for more than 170 episodes, airing for around a half hour on every weekday.

The online Kdrama fandom tends to focus on miniseries, with the exception of the occasional youth-oriented sitcom like High Kick. Add this lack of coverage to the fact that many of the longer series aren’t available subbed in English, and it becomes easy to forget they even exist.

The sheer commitment required to slog through 170 episodes of something—even if they’re good episodes—isn’t really something I have. I’ve seen a few longer Korean series, including the home dramas Family’s Honor (54 episodes) and Ojakgyo Brothers (58 episodes), and the classic sageuk Jewel in the Palace (54 episodes).

When a long drama is good, it can be sublime. Jewel in the Palace used every single one of its (many, many) episodes to tell a compelling story that moved through the universe it created, rather than just standing still. It followed its heroine from childhood to the palace kitchen and on to her role as the king’s doctor, never getting stuck in one spot long enough to be boring. Some of its best set pieces even came late in its running time, including an amazing plague subplot. The longer dramas must demand more of their creators in terms of planning and forethought, which means they sometimes avoid the pointless plot loops that can do such damage to a shorter show.

But long dramas can also seem like never-ending torture when they go wrong. (See, for example, the coverage of You’re the Best, Lee Soon Shin at Dramabeans or Goddess of Fire at Koala’s Playground.) The failed titans don’t feel all that different from their shorter brethren—instead of using their extra time to tell different kinds of stories, they just feature a central romance and pad the rest of their screen time with B and C plots revolving around secondary characters. Most of these shows don’t need to be long as they are.

The drama I’m watching now is another a long weekend show: Smile, You, a 45-episode series that aired in 2009. At the halfway point, I have a split personality when it comes to Smile, You. I love the budding romances between the two younger couples, but literally want to throw things with hatred whenever anyone over 30 is on screen. So I’ve been making use of Dramafever’s fastforward button to create the drama I want to watch—a funny romantic comedy with likable leads and zippy chemistry. Pretty much every scene featuring an adult doesn’t exist to me. I think that might be the trick to watching the longer shows: don’t get wedded to sitting through every single minute and instead pick and choose the parts you care enough about to watch.

There are a lot of lengthy Kdramas out there, and some of them are actually quite tempting. Here are a few I’m keeping an eye on.

Potato Star 2013QR3.

2013. Sitcom, 120 thirty-minute episodes.

This series from the team behind the High Kick franchise just started airing at the end of September, but it’s already gotten some buzz thanks to a steamy kiss scene. (Thanks, Whimsyful!) It sounds like a pretty standard family sitcom that happens to have an especially interesting gimmick: the titular comet strikes planet Earth, causing mayhem for its characters. The youthful cast is what really makes me want to watch Potato Star. It’s hard to imagine going wrong with its selection of up-and-comers, including Flower Boy Next Door’s hardworking sidekick Go Kyung Po, Monstar’s female lead Ha Yeon Seo, and I Miss You’s babe-in-training Yeo Jin Goo. (In a strange counterpart to Heirs and its cast of adults playing high schoolers, in this show Yeo Jin Goo is a 24-year-old computer programmer—in spite of the fact that in real life he’s just 16.) There isn’t a lot of information in English about Potato Star, but it is available on at least one subbing site. 

Ugly Alert

2013. Family drama/light melo, 120 thirty-minute episodes

I can only imagine that Im Joo Hwan had torturing me in mind when he chose this daily drama for his comeback after military service. First of all, it’s long. Second of all, it has some sort of fashion-industry component. Third of all, I want to watch it anyway, because What’s Up and Tamra, the Island made me love him so much. Im plays a young man who ends up going to prison after taking the blame for a crime committed by his younger brother, and most of the show seems to revolve around his return to society and the blended family created by his father’s remarriage. It is being subbed in English by one reputable fansite, and the mini-recaps posted on Tumblr by Cooking Dramas sure do make it look good.

High Kick

2006. Sitcom, 167 thirty-minute episodes

Unlike most daily sitcoms, High Kick is available fully subbed on Dramafever. I never had much interest in watching this show until Dramabeans mentioned it in a recent post about noona romances, but now I’m considering trying it out. It seems to revolve around a central family, just as most K-sitcoms do, but also has a strong focus on the classroom shenanigans of its younger generation. (Which is where the noona romance comes in.) On the bright side, it includes a pre-Boys over Flowers Kim Bum and Jung Il Woo before he discovered white pancake makeup. On the not-so-bright side, it includes low production values and a painfully canned laugh track.

Shin Don

2001. Sageuk, 61 sixty-minute episodes

A number of bloggers I respect adore this widely subtitled show, including Thundie and Mr. X. It’s supposed to be life-changingly wonderful, but I’m hesitant both because it’s incredibly long and because it’s not really geared toward my interests. (Which, candidly speaking, is code for “It appears to be about things other than young, pretty people being in love.”) There are lots of things I like about sageuks, but the political intrigue and ascetic monks this drama seems to specialize in aren’t included on that particular list. Still, I’m curious—can Shin Don be as great as people say?

I Live in Cheongdam-dong

2011. Sitcom, 170 half-hour episodes

I’ve finally admitted to myself that this show will never be available in English. According to the few Korean-speaking Kdrama bloggers, it’s funny and touching and pretty much perfect in every way, but as far as I know no fansubber or corporate streaming service has translated as much as a single episode. The story revolves around an older woman who moves to Seoul’s tony Cheongdam-dong neighborhood and opens a boarding house-cum-comic book store, which sounds like an a recipe for lots of quirky characters and light social commentary. But I guess I’ll never know for sure.