Drama Review: A Love to Kill (2005)

Grade: A

Category

Revenge melodrama

What it’s about

Bok Gu is a rough-and-tumble fighter who’s spent his entire life at war with the world. When a failed romance with a celebrity drives his brother to attempt suicide, Bok Gu vows to avenge him. But even as he plots to destroy his brother’s former lover, he can’t fight his own burgeoning attraction to her.

First impression

This drama by Lee Kyung Hee, the screenwriter of Nice Guy and I’m Sorry, I Love You, seems to be following in the footsteps her earlier shows. Taking Rain as its grimy anti-hero, it brings together a cast of unlikely characters—some members of Seoul’s criminal underclass, others privileged cogs in the celebrity machine—and explores the unexpected ways their lives intersect. So far it’s bombastic fun, but feels more like a cheesy throwaway than an example of Lee’s best work.

Drama Review: That Winter, the Wind Blows (2013)

Grade: B-

Category

Romance melodrama

What it’s about

A con man with a heart of gold pretends to be the long-lost brother of a lonesome chaebol daughter, who just happens to be blind and at the mercy of a group of not particularly trustworthy servants. He hopes to convince her to hand over a huge sum of money so he can pay back gangsters who think he robbed them, but guess what? He falls in love with her instead.

First impression

So far this show is delightfully reminiscent of last year’s Padam, Padam, which I loved: There’s an intense, slightly unhinged male lead, an epic bromance, time spent in prison, and Kim Bum. (It should go without saying that I heartily approve of all of the above.) I can’t wait to watch more of this gorgeously shot, mature drama.

Final verdict

The first half of this show is dark and melancholy and crackling with dangerous, taboo sexual chemistry. Unfortunately the latter portion doesn’t live up to this promising beginning—the story loses steam by episode 8 and it quickly becomes clear that the writer and production team have no idea what to do with all the wonderful toys at their disposal.

Drama Review: Baker King Kim Tak Gu (2010)

Grade: B-

Category
Underdog family melodrama

What it’s about
Two brothers—one illegitimate and raised in poverty, the other a pampered chaebol son—are at odds as they struggle to find their places in the world. (Think Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, if they had been long lost siblings and heirs to a baking empire instead of wannabe wizards.)

First impression
My grand tour through the CVs of the flower boys next door continues with this hugely popular melo starring Yoon Si Yoon, Mr. Enrique Geum himself. As Dramafever helpfully reminded me, I started Baker King once before, right after finishing Me Too, Flower. I didn’t even make it through the first episode back then—the cheap production values, cheesy script, and mediocre acting prompted me to drop it almost immediately. From a quality standpoint, its opening is probably the equivalent of an American daytime soap. Now that I’ve seen more dramas, though, I know you can’t really judge a show by its kid-centered opening sequence. But according to the preview pictures, it will be many, many episodes before my beloved Yoon Si Yoon even makes an appearance. Will I last that long? Maybe, maybe not.

Drama Review: Thank You (2007)

Grade: A+

Category

Romantic melodrama

What it’s about

After his girlfriend dies, a hotshot surgeon gives up his career and relocates to the countryside, where he meets a hardworking single mom who’s weighed down by the responsibility of supporting both her senile grandfather and her young daughter. He rents a room in her house and slowly becomes part of the family, bickering all the while, but their burgeoning love story is complicated by an unexpected bit of shared history—his girlfriend accidentally infected the little girl with HIV while giving her a blood transfusion.

First impression

After the cotton-candy insubstantialness of Cheongdamdong Alice, I’m in the mood for something meaty and melodramatic. This show ought to be just thing: it’s written by Lee Kyung Hee, screenwriter of both Nice Guy and I’m Sorry, I Love You. She specializes in gritty tragedies with horrible male leads who end up spectacularly redeemed (and dead) by the closing scene. Based on this show’s summary, it will be more of the same. I’m clearly in for a world of hurt. (Yipee!)

Drama Review: Equator Man (2012)

Grade: B

Category

Revenge melodrama

What it’s about

A young man’s quest for answers in the wake of his father’s murder results in fourteen years of melodramatic secrets, lies, and double-crosses for him and three of his high school friends.

First impression

Poky and pretentious, this kimchi opera suffers from an intrusive soundtrack and lacks narrative flow—it’s just one heavy-handed, bombastic conversation after another, with no real connective tissue or character development deeper than close-ups of the actors making maudlin faces. Also, it beggars belief again and again, even judging on a Kdrama-scale of improbability. (I’ll accept Joseon scholars time-traveling to modern Seoul; I won’t accept a scrawny teenager single-handedly beating up a gang of thugs as if he’s Batman.) I’ll keep with it for a while, though—it’s hard to judge a show based on the first episode, especially when that episode focuses exclusively on backstory and child actors. Also, Lee Hyun Woo is definitely my new jailbait love; I won’t be leaving until his character grows up.

Final verdict
I was prepared from the beginning to dislike Equator Man. Like most dramas that replace youthful actors with adults early on in their runs, its first few episodes felt overstuffed and confusing. Its likeable cast and promisingly soapy premise weren’t enough to overcome this problem, not to mention the show’s cheesy direction and distracting soundtrack.

But in spite of this shaky start, Equator Man settled into a reasonably satisfying potboiler about the perils of greed and revenge and the power of friendship. In a lot of ways, it feels like an old-fashioned counterpart to this fall’s younger-skewing Nice Guy: its conflicted, flawed characters confront the worst in themselves as they suffer through a litany of melodrama tropes—birth secrets, hidden identities, long lost first loves, terminal illnesses, corporate shenanigans, and the evil machinations of mustache-twirling bad guys. 

Thanks to a compelling cast and serviceable (if holy) plot filled with books, art, and a moving bromance gone terribly, terribly wrong, this drama is a juicy, uncomplicated soap opera that’s just right for rainy day viewing. (If not for deep thought or lasting reflection.)

Random thoughts

• Episode 1. It’s always bizarre to come across Western oldies used in Korean dramas, and I’ve had a run of it lately. First, Billy Joel’s “The Stranger” was used as the male lead’s leitmotif in I’m Sorry, I Love You, and now Equator Man is all about Eric Clapton’s “Layla.” At least the former fit the drama conceptually—on the other hand, “Layla” is a classic love-triangle song, but not a single woman has appeared on screen at this point. [Just you wait, Amanda.—Amanda.]

• Episode 2. Handy that these cops are total idiots, because anyone who’s ever read or seen an older detective story knows that typewriters are often traceable. As are the fingerprints he just got all over the note. ::sigh::

• Episode 6. So in addition to being physically tone deaf, this show’s music director is also metaphorically tone deaf. To him or her, it probably seemed like a clever idea to take a bunch of blind people into the woods to listen to Stevie Wonder songs. To the rest of us, not so much.

• Episode 7. Once you get past some initial bumps, this show isn’t all that bad. What is bad is its overblown soundtrack. A character flushes the toilet? Better set it to a soaring orchestral piece suitable for the sinking of the Titanic. Someone takes a drink of soju? That calls for a solo piano rendition of “Moon River.” The lead stubs his toe? A melodramatic riff on the “Layla” baseline is just what the moment needs. Or not.

• Episode 7. For someone who’s spent ages in a coma, this dude’s recovery is amazingly painless: on day one he’s running around gnashing his teeth and punching walls. Wouldn’t some physical therapy be in order? After all, while he was unconscious he grew like ten inches and turned from a boy to a man. Funny how selective melodramas can be about what to be melodramatic about.

• Episode 9. I’m always waking up in the middle of the night with big ideas I want to write down, but the results of my lightless scribblings usually look more like abstract art projects than words. So how is it that this blind character is able to write a perfectly legible letter? He’s fighting even bigger odds than I do: writing English using cursive, I barely have to take my pen off the paper. Korean, in contrast, is all about lines and circles and their relationships to each other. How could you manage that without being able to see? (Random note: it turns out that Korean actually does have a cursive form. Not that it would make that much of a difference when trying to write in the dark.) 

• Episode 14. Uhm Tae Wong, you are a delicious hunk of masculinity in a world of dainty flower boys. High definition isn’t your friend, though—is that your face or the surface of the moon? (If it’s any consolation, I’m reading a smutty American novel called Bared to You right now, and you’re number two on my casting list for its male lead, Gideon Cross. [Sorry, but Lee Joon Ki seems unlikely to give up first place. You may have the magnetism, but he’s got the cheekbones.].)

• Episode 20. And the worst finale of the year award goes to...Equator Man! (And that’s saying something, in a year that saw the exercise in futility that was Big.) Everything after the 15-minute mark feels useless and drawn out to fill time. Let’s just pretend that the show ended with the two boys outside to hospital, shall we?

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Drama Review: I’m Sorry, I Love You (2004)

Grade: A-

Category

Revenge melodrama

What it’s about

While seeking vengeance against the birth mother he believes abandoned him for frivolous reasons, a tortured young man falls in love with his half-brother’s best friend.

First impression

Part standard-issue Kdrama love triangle and part angsty makjang fest, this drama is a strange, miserable beast. Clearly influenced by the terrible-people-doing-terrible-things genre of shows like What Happened in Bali, by episode 2 I’m Sorry is already hinting about a tragic ending to come. Once a character is shown quoting from Romeo and Juliet’s death scene, all hope is pretty clearly lost.

Final verdict

Looking on the darker side of life seems to be the speciality of screenwriter Lee Kyung Hee. From gigolos to high school dropouts, from kids with AIDS to murderers and the people who take the blame for them, her dramas are the perfect antidote to the candy-coated unreality of most Korean television. If you can handle the tragedy of it all, you’re in good hands with her: every character is nuanced and sensitively drawn, and every awful turn is balanced with a moment of grace and beauty.

I’m Sorry, I Love You is an especially rare bird: It’s not every day you come across a Kdrama romantic lead best described as mean, rude, and dirty. But in spite of his awful behavior, this flawed, supremely damaged antihero still comes off a sympathetic figure. Twice abandoned as a child, once by his birth mother and once by his adoptive family in Australia, Cha Moo Hyuk views the world through a jaded, amoral mask. But beneath that mask, he’s a sad, lost little boy who loves fiercely and longs for fairness and a sense of belonging. And when Moo Hyuk’s life begins to intertwine with his birth family’s, all his worst intentions disappear one by one.

A bleak, viscerally gripping story of missed opportunities and seemingly impossible redemptions, the actual events that take place in I’m Sorry are largely beside the point. It’s the characters and their interactions that make it worth watching. A lesser show would have turned them into one-note, mustache-twirling villains, but instead, they’re almost all worthy of pity: the desperate mother who all but ruins her son with her love; the spoiled, self-obsessed boy who eventually stands up as a man; the girl who comes to realize the difference between a crush and real love, only to lose everything in the end.

If I could travel back in time and alter the course of this drama, I would have stepped in at about episode 10. That’s the point where it started to suffer from back-and-forth-itis, focusing on the will-they-or-won’t-they romance between the leads rather than confronting the big, awful secrets and lies inherent in its plot. By the self-consciously tragic finale, some of the most serious issues the show had to offer were utterly unexplored. (Another time-machine worthy change? Convincing the director that disguising oneself as a 1970s porn star is no way to win a woman’s heart.)

But in spite of its rough patches, I’m Sorry, I Love You (note the significant comma placement) is a moving character study about finding ways to see behind people’s masks, and learning to love what you find there.

Random thoughts

• Episode 1. Gesh, buddy. Even I’d be a better assassin than you—at least I know when you’re trying to kill someone, you should should at them, not the nearby wine bottles. Get it together, would you?

• Episode 2. Ye gods, is this show all about value. Halfway through episode 2 and we already have two cases of traumatic head injury resulting in brain damage? Even for Kdrama, that’s got to be some kind of a record. Lee Kyung Hee, its screenwriter, sure gets a lot of mileage out of that old saw.

• Episode 4. You know, nothing ruins a nice homoerotic shower scene like probable brotherhood.

• Episode 9. Nice Guy was an enjoyable watch, but never quite grabbed me emotionally. This show, on the other hand, has me pinned in a half-nelson of feels. I can’t believe how wrapped up I am in these (largely unlikable) characters, especially because I’ve been able to see the site of this particular train wreck for about six episodes now. No more melodrama for me for a while, or I'm going to need anti-depressants.

• Episode 12. This episode gave me an idea for one of Donnapie’s Asian drama memes: That awkward Asian drama moment when a couple is so great together that you’re rooting for them to get married (or at least have lots of hot sex) . . . even though they're almost certainly brother and sister. That's awkward, all right. 

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Drama Review: Nice Guy (2012)

Grade: A-

Category

Revenge melodrama

What it’s about

A young man out for revenge falls in love with the stepdaughter of his first love, a woman who betrayed him after he gave up everything in his life to protect her. Makjang and madness ensue.

First impression

From its very first scenes, this drama is a high-octane thrill ride that promises a wealth of soap-opera-style pleasures. Murder! Intrigue! Evil stepmothers, shrewish young women and manipulative young heroes-disguised-as-villains! Seriously...what’s not to like?

Midterm exam

Final verdict

No matter how much I love Korean drama, it’s a rare thing to come across a show that I would feel safe recommending to anyone, no matter what their personal interests. Nice Guy is one of the few shows that fit this bill—it does most everything right, and the things it does wrong are easy to overlook. It’s a near-perfect mix of the things Kdramas do so incredibly well: romance, intrigue, and melodrama. And unlike most television shows (whatever their continent of origin), it even rewards thoughtful viewing and deep consideration.

With its carefully structured plot full of subtle reveals, exciting reversals, and ambiguous, nuanced antiheroes, Nice Guy’s script takes what might have been a vehicle for soap-opera makjang and gives it real emotional heft. On the surface, its story contains the same old hoary elements that come up in all melodramas: miserable childhoods, tragic illnesses, and chaebol power struggles. (Amnesia, every drama writer’s magic-bullet plot device, makes a few fortuitous appearances, too.) But these things are just window dressing: this show’s true soul is found in its characters and their journeys. On the voyage from degradation and desperation to strength and wisdom, they clash again and again, nearly destroying themselves and each other.

It’s the viewers’ good luck that this deeply flawed group of characters is brought to life by a stellar cast that delivers almost universally spectacular performances. From Song Joong Ki’s steely-eyed “nice guy” to Moon Chae Won’s fiery heiress and Park Si Yeon’s beautifully damaged, ruthless social climber, its actors regularly say more with a single look than could be contained in a thousand pages of dialogue.

Nonetheless, Nice Guy is not perfect. Its first half was dragged down by dissonant, cartoony elements in the Choco/Jae Gil storyline. And by the last stretch of episodes, the complicated plot started to feel more like an intellectual exercise than an emotional one. The finale also left a little something to be desired, as far as I’m concerned. It didn’t really resolve the workplace storyline (I guess the winner was the person driving the nicest car in the coda?), and for a show that’s all about the importance of taking responsibility for one’s actions, the male lead got off the hook awfully easily. (For more involved, spoilery discussion of the coda, scroll down to the cut line at the bottom of this post.)

While it might not be my favorite show ever, Nice Guy is still one of the finest examples of its species: dark and drawn to the things that break us, it explores the horrible things people will do to save themselves, and the precarious ways they can earn redemption for them.

Random Thoughts

• Episode 3. Kudos to this show’s makeup department for using Ma Ru’s wounds as an excuse to lovingly highlight Song Joong Ki’s delicate, finely wrought features. That’s the kind of craftsmanship I can get behind.

• Episode 8. So they made a huge deal about her leaving with nothing in the previous episode—and now she has a car all of a sudden? What? It was even specifically mentioned that she left her car keys behind at home...did she carjack some poor ajumma?

• Episode 12. The harmonica. LOL. The harmonica...did Ma Ru pick up some mad mouth harp skills in the pokey, or what?

• Episode 14. I appreciate that narrative demands that the good guys don’t win until the last minute, but must they always be such idiots along the way? How could Ma Ru not be smart enough to have someone physically verify the person they were meeting? This bumbling might turn me team Jae Hee after all.

• Episode 14. I’m in mourning for poor Eun Gi, who started out a spitfire and has since lost every iota of personal agency. On the bright side, at least she’s still allowed to speak, which is sort of more than you can say for the heroine of Will It Snow at Christmas, an earlier drama written by Nice Guy’s screenwriter.

• Episode 15. Only in Kdrama fandom would knowing that someone opened their eyes during a kiss be a spoiler of a Dumbledore-dies level of awfulness. And yet, they included this very moment in the next episode’s preview.

• Episode 16. In life and in television I’m all for people getting what they want most, but I can’t even consider the possibility of Choco and Jae Gil ending up together. They have cute, sibling-style chemistry, but he seems way too old for her and they’re a terrible physical fit. The thought of them really kissing makes my skin crawl a little...but I still suspect the show might be headed that way.

• Episode 16. The only other show I’ve seen by this screenwriter is Will It Snow at Christmas, which I also really liked. It’s interesting that the two dramas have similar plot structures—each has three separate, nearly self-contained story arcs, as if someone hit the reset button mid-drama. This show’s beginning was all about Ma Ru’s obsessive love for Jae Hee, its middle was about Eun Gi’s struggle with amnesia...and now we have to wonder what the final four episodes will hold. Lots of twisty-turny betrayals and a happy ending, I hope.

• Episode 16. So I just realized what the combination of Song Joon Ki’s little, girlie face and his rough man hands reminds me of. The cover of Tiny Fey’s Bossypants. 

• Episode 17. The icing on the Nice Guy cake? Seo Eun Gi having a nervous breakdown as she wanders around in her wedding dress, like Miss Havisham’s long lost Korean granddaughter. Well played, show.

• Episode 19. All the acting in this show is good, but the bench scene in this episode is actually stunning. For that one moment, we see the true Ma Ru, with all his flaws and graces etched right into Song Joon Ki’s suddenly not-so-handsome face.

• Episode 20. The cherry on the icing on the Nice Guy cake? The fact that the finale’s opening credits have a different ending than the ones for the rest of the episodes. It’s like every single thing about the drama has evolved during its run.

• Episode 20. I think the coda is filmed in one of the (gorgeous) spots prominently featured Padam Padam—the bakery and vet’s office are in the very same building, even.

Watch it

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