Grade (general):
D
Grade (if weighted for the indefinable quality
sometimes called “heart”): C+
Category
Light melodrama
What it’s about
Clearly influenced by Winter Sonata and its ilk, this melodramatic comedy revolves around
tragically separated childhood lovers. Their paths inevitably cross as adults,
but a chasm of life experiences still keeps them apart: the girl (winningly
played by the always charming Gong Hyo Jin) has grown up to be an upstanding
schoolteacher with a doctor boyfriend, while the boy (played by the smoking hot
Rain) has become a semi-moral single father-cum-gigolo who romances married
women and takes their money to care for his ailing daughter. Having dropped out
of high school after they lost touch, Rain’s character eventually becomes a student in
the class taught by his first love.
First impression
Nowadays, the production values for the typical Kdrama are
on a par with television anywhere else in the world. Back in 2003 when Sang Doo
aired, that wasn’t really the case—it’s stunning how amateur everything about
this drama seems, from the acting to the direction to the script. And yet...I
still totally enjoyed the first episode, which was goofy, improbable fun.
What’s wrong with me?
Final verdict
It seems mean-spirited to judge yesteryear’s dramas by
today’s standards. But that doesn’t step Sang Doo from feeling like
fifth-grade gym class compared to today’s Olympic-caliber Kdramas. The acting
(particularly on the part of the supporting cast) is atrocious. On the bright side, the production
values are slightly improved over what we saw in 2001’s Winter Sonata. For example, microphones dangle into the frame only every few
episodes, rather than in nearly every scene, and you hardly ever catch random
members of the production team crouching behind furniture during interior
shots. Then there’s the plot, a hodge-podge of drama clichés that includes
everything from (multiple) birth secrets to cancer to families struggling in
the grip financial tragedy. Throw in a standard-issue love triangle and a side
of law breaking, and you’ve got the same old template a hundred other dramas
have been built on, before and since.
And yet, there’s something so likeable about this drama that
it’s hard to complain too much. The single-father plotline is sweet, and acts
as the impetus for Rain’s best work in the show—he and the actress playing his
daughter have cute chemistry, and some of their scenes together are genuinely
moving. (Her illness, however, is totally nonsensical in the way of Kdramas.
She’s stuck in the hospital for the show’s entire running time without actually
being sick, as if the writers were worried that caring for her would get in the
way of the male lead’s shenanigans.) The actors playing the leads both do
decent work, and their love story actually has some real-life weight to it. And
rather than relying on irredeemable bad guys to propel its plot, Sang Doo actually highlights the evolution of its secondary
characters into actual human beings and offers up a nice little bromance, years
before the term would even be coined.
Do I suggest that you drop what you’re doing and immediately
watch Sang Doo, Let’s Go to School? No,
I do not. Do I suggest that you give it a shot if you’re ever wondering what
comfort-food inanity to watch as you recover from the flu or some minor surgery? I
think maybe I do.
Random thoughts
• Episode 1. I love
that Drama Fever’s new video player allows you to change the subtitle format.
The next innovation they need to introduce is some sort of
pick-your-hero’s-hairstyle feature that would automatically cover over the once
trendy, now tragic haircuts that make old shows so hard to watch
without collapsing into fits of giggles. Just what is Rain wearing on his head
throughout this episode? It’s hard to believe that it might actually be hair,
and that someone might actually have caused it to look like that on purpose.
• Episode 3. So it
seems that Korean love hotels sometimes feature sex-specific furniture, which
look like an X-rated version of the chrome-y, safety-handled Nautilus
weight-training machines at the gym. Frankly, there is not enough bleach in the world
for me to feel okay about the existence of the “sex chair.” (Or its handy
laminated instruction manual.)
• Episode 5. Does
this doctor ever actually doctor? Or does he just hang out with preschoolers
and teach them snide songs calculated to insult their parents? He’s winner of
the award for worst Kdrama doctor of all time, methinks.
• Episode 6. Wait.
The father of your child has never seen you naked? That must have been. . . awkward.
I suspect the sex chair was not involved. [Finale note: OH! I get
it.]
• Episode 6. Another
Kdrama girl said she’d “take responsibility”! That makes three, out of all the
hundreds of hours of Korean television I’ve watched.
• Episode 9. I’m
happy to report that even at my darkest moments, I have never once considered
using a Kate Hudson movie as inspiration for my life plans. Unlike this drama’s
heroine—poor thing.
• Episode 9. Note to
self: the next time you feel tempted to become obsessed with a foreign
country’s television, please make sure they don’t eat dog meat before doing so.
You’ll be happier in the end.
Watch it
You might also like
Hello, My Teacher,
for its schoolyard high jinks (not to mention stars Gong Hyo Jin and my boyfriend Gong Yoo)
