Grade: A+
Category
Coming-of-age comedy
What it’s about
A nostalgic, pop-culture-centric journey through the lives
and loves of a group of friends from Busan, beginning with their senior year in
high school in 1997 and carrying through today.
First impression
I laughed and cried my way through this drama’s first
episode, sometimes simultaneously. Could this be South Korea’s My So-Called
Life, with a side of nostalgia? I got
goosebumps when I heard the modem in the opening credits, and
started getting teary with happy memories by minute five. Answer Me
1997’s pop culture references mean nothing
to me, but some things are universal—including passionate fandom. As I spent
most of the late 90s following my then-favorite band around the country, this
show might as well have been written about me as for me. (Tragically, though, my life story is lacking in handsome boys next door.)
Final verdict
As far as I’m concerned, Answer Me 1997 is the drama of the year, and quite possibly my
second favorite Korean series of all time. It has everything you could ask for
in a television show about growing up: it’s at once silly, funny, sweet, tender, and poignant.
With its naturalistic vibe and impossibly endearing cast of characters, I knew
from the beginning that I was destined to love AM 1997. But what I wasn’t counting on was its clever
storytelling—each episode is a seamlessly interwoven narrative created from
flashbacks and flashforwards. The backstories draw you into the characters’
lives and make you feel as if you’ve known them for years, while the action set
in the present day forms a nifty series of mysteries about their adult lives.
Most impressive, though, is that the script and direction never get so
bogged down in all this complicated plotting that they lose sight of the human emotion
we’re actually watching for. Every relationship feels real, from the
long-simmering love between feisty Shi Won and upstanding Yoon Jae, to the
porn-hound bromance of the 1997four, to Shi Won’s turbulent relationship with
her dad. And there’s one more kind of relationship that AM 1997 handles perfectly: fanhood. Shi Won’s passion for Kpop boy-band H.O.T. is just as moving as any of this show’s romantic or family moments.
My only gripes are minor. For one thing, the second half of AM 1997 didn’t quite realize the promise of the first. (Of course, the first half was so wonderful that I almost died of it, so maybe it’s a good thing the quality went down ever-so-slightly as the show progressed.) The fundamental problem was that as the story moved away from the growing-up years of its characters, the plot accelerated toward the territory of the standard Kdrama love-triangle. Throughout its final third I missed the everyday, universal insights of its first few episodes, as well as the thoughtful centerpoint provided by the early school and home settings. But my biggest sorrow is that we didn’t catch a glimpse of Shi Won’s reaction to the breakup
of her favorite band, which should have been a huge moment for her character and by extension for the show. Instead, the script only acknowledged it in passing as part of a voice-over montage, wasting a priceless opportunity to explore the innerworkings of Shi Won’s soul. And Korean viewers may not have been ready
to see who was driving that red sports car at the end of the finale, but I was.
I hope it was the dreamy flower boy we all know the person in the passenger
seat deserved.
But even at its least compelling, I can’t stress what a delight it was to watch Answer Me 1997. It’s a big-hearted drama that’s revolutionary in its tacit acceptance that love is where we find it. No other television show has ever made me laugh as often, or cry so much
Random thoughts
• Episode 2. As
always seems to be the case in Asian dramas, this show’s characters act
incredibly young for their age. My days of trading teen magazine centerfolds
ended by the time I was thirteen, and by eighteen had been followed by
fangirling just this side of Almost Famous. Answer Me 1997’s female
lead and I could still have shared tips about how best to obsessively stalk beloved musicians, though—and I physically felt her pain upon discovering
her friend’s secret poster collection.
—This is clearly one of those shows I’m going to have to
read recaps to understand. I totally lost the plot at some point during this
episode—all those complicated “4 hours earlier” narrative jumps threw me. (I
did not, however, miss the scene at the sink. Hubba hubba!)
—WTF is up with these sheep noises?
—Why do I keep seeing a character wearing ear-buds? The rest
of the technology seems time-appropriate (dig those cassette tapes!), but I swear
white ear-buds weren’t available until after the introduction of the iPod in
the early 2000s.
• Episode 3. Five
minutes into its third episode, I think it’s safe to say that this drama is
going to be second only to Coffee Prince on my list of favorites. So sweet, so silly, so poignant and real. Once
again tvN is to thank for a visionary show that’s about a thousand times better
than it has any right to be.
• Episode 5. I
honestly have very little to say about this show beyond declaring my love for
it. Every episode makes me laugh until I wheeze and cry at least once. It’s
humane to all its characters and full of acute observations about adolescence,
that utter horror show that somehow manages to be shot through with miracles.
The flashback portions of the story would have been enough for great viewing,
but factor in the modern day, Clue-style mystery about which two characters are
about to get married in 2012, and this is perhaps the most transfixing kdrama
I’ve ever seen.
• Episode 6. I think
I may have to drop Answer Me, 1997—not
because I’m not enjoying it, but because it’s like Kdrama kryptonite. Every
episode leaves me blubbering pathetically; I hardly ever cry when I’m watching
dramas, but episode 6 required at least half a box of tissue. The romance stuff
is cute, but Shi Won’s love/hate relationship with her blustery dad is breaking
my heart into approximately a thousand pieces. Mom and Dad’s stormy marriage is
also a killer—especially when Mom started calling that drama writer to beg for
a reprieve, as if the writer were actually god. Like My So-Called
Life, this is a show with room in its heart
for all its characters, no matter their age group—even if they like Sechskies.
(Of course, I have no idea who or what this “Sechskies” may be. Every time the
name comes up I mentally fill in *Nsync.)
• Episode 8. I’m
afraid Answer Me 1997 has used up
the universe’s allotment of awesome for the next decade or so—as if one Yoon
Jae wasn’t enough, now there are two? You wound me with your wonderfulness, AM
1997. [Finale note: But whatever became of Yoon Jae II? He disappears
after an episode or two—more’s the pity.]
• Episode 9. “I’m
buying them for my nephew,” eh? Thank God for iTunes—nowadays we can buy all
the One Direction albums we want from the privacy of our couches. I have to say
I’m a little squicked out by the turn the love story is taking. She’s too young
for him, and his history with her family makes it even weirder.
• Episode 10. This
fan rumble between the H.O.T. girls and their Sechskies counterparts is so epic
it’s like a lost scene from the Lord of the Rings trilogy: The Battle of Kpops
Deep. (With the female lead’s turncoat friend playing Wormtongue, of course.) I
just hope everyone makes it out alive.
• Episode 13. I’m a
bit confused about the length of this drama’s episodes—back when they first
started airing, Dramabeans said they were 30 minutes each, and two were airing
back-to-back in Korea. But I just watched a 55 minute episode on Dramafever,
which is immediately followed by a 30 minute episode. I think DF messed up the
episode breaks, which is just what a multi-layered drama prone to time skips
doesn’t need. I guess that explains why the opening montage often shows up 25
minutes into the show, eh?
Watch it
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