Drama Short: Spring Waltz (2006) Review

Grade: A+

Category

Melodrama

What it’s about

Tweens fall in love, are tragically separated, and rediscover each other as adults.

First impression

Luscious and lovely, yet virtually indistinguishable from all the other Endless Love dramas—lousy acting and sloppy editing are punctuated by moments of intense, heartrending beauty. As always, I cannot tear my eyes away. Will the installment be satisfying (ala Winter Sonata) or stultifying (ala Summer Scent)?

Final verdict

To quote this drama’s omnipresent theme song: Love, real love. Read my full review here.

Random thoughts

• Proof that I’ve really and truly drank the Kool-aid this time around? I’m downloading this drama’s soundtrack—“My Darling Clementine” sample and all—as I type.

• There’s a character on the show 30 Rock who’s so handsome he doesn’t know how to do a single thing for himself—people have been lining up to take care of him for his whole life, thanks to his good looks. I imagine that Daniel Henney, this show’s second lead, really is that guy. He’s been a complete failure as an actor in everything I’ve seen him in, yet one smile from him is all it takes to make me so woozy and overheated I barely notice his flaws. He clearly can’t act his way out of a paper bag, but he’s so dazzlingly beautiful that his dramas should come with protective eye gear, like those boxes people make to watch eclipses. If you looked directly at him too long, I swear you’d be blinded.

• This final installment in the Endless Love series includes at least two welcome innovations: male leads who are every bit as breathtaking as the scenery, and the music of Coldplay. Talk about made for each other…

• I know any number of people who are always prepared for any possible need—they carry pens and swiss army knives and measuring tape wherever they go. I think Philip tops them all, though: next to the spare tire in the back of his SUV, he seems to carry an emergency fairy princess gown. Because I guess if you look like that you never know when you might be called upon to prepare a Cinderella for a ball?

• The clothes in this drama started off bright and pretty, but ended up refugee-from-Oz insane. I understand that Daniel Henney has Irish blood, but must you really dress him as a leprechaun ?

• Episode 2. Every drama that has a swan wrangler on the payroll, as this one clearly did, should receive an automatic A. Throw in a few fairy tale castles, and that's an automatic A+.

• Episode 18. Female lead: “Watching Philip exercise can also relieve my stress.” Amanda, fanning self: “And you’ll almost certainly need a cold shower afterward, too.”

You might also like:

The other Endless Love dramas 

Padam Padam

Will It Snow at Christmas? 

The Snow Queen 

Watch it streaming at:

Dramafever

Hulu

Netflix

MySoju

You might be unhealthily obsessed with Korean drama if...

In this screencap from Big, the role of Amanda is played by Suzy.
The role of Korean drama is played by Gong Yoo.

It’s physically impossible for you to be within seventy feet of a computer without checking Dramabeans and Couch Kimchi for updates.

You’ve watched more than 5 drama episodes in a row…after midnight.

At any given moment, you know how much a plane ticket to Seoul would cost. (A ten-day birthday trip in October? Roundtrip Boston to Incheon, $1,235.50.)

You’ve ever canvassed the local Asian markets in search of a bottle of soju…or six.

You can’t see a Mini Cooper without checking the driver’s seat for Choi Han Gyul.
 

You’ve caused yourself actual physical pain by doing the finger-flick against your own forehead, just because you wanted to know what the leads in your drama were going through.

You think your bedroom décor would be massively improved with the addition of Piggy Bunny.

You religiously read DramaTic, and plan to consider it a significant personal milestone when you’re finally able to recognize at least half of the dramas mentioned by name in any given post.

You’ve said the word aigoo aloud in a totally unironic manner.

You live in fear of Internet data caps.

You’ve watched a raw drama episode before it was subbed. You had no idea what the hell was going on, but at least the wait was over.


Your neighbors have ever asked why you were bellowing, “For the love of God, look both ways before you cross the road!” while alone in your apartment.

You can’t read a single song title on your iPod’s top 25 list. (But they’re all categorized as “Kdrama OST.”)

You can sing along with each of said top 25 songs—phonetically.

You've turned your family and friends into a crack team of spies North Korea would envy. Every time they come across something related to South Korea, however tangentially, they drop everything to let you know. ("Guess where my new underwear were made!")

A disproportionate number of the bookmarks in your Web browser have the word Korea in them.

You’ve re-watched your favorite Korean drama from beginning to end in 48 hours or less for the express purpose of improving your mood after a terrible week.

Your consumption of rice, ramen, and green onions has recently skyrocketed.

Learning Korean has moved from item 8.751 x 10⁸⁰⁰ to number 10 on your list of things to do before you die. (And it’s only slightly more likely to happen than item 11: Make out with Gong Yoo.)

You think the hanbok is a good, universally flattering look that should be revived in the modern world. And your closet.

You have your own Kdrama blog. (Bonus points if counting your own visits would probably quintuple the number of hits it has received.)

You know the full names of every character in Sungkyunkwan Scandal, but suspect you can accurately pronounce none of them. (Or, indeed, the show’s title.)

You’ve watched a single drama more than three times…in one month.

Your primary reason for wanting a boyfriend/husband/older brother is to have an opportunity to call someone “oppa.” If you have a boyfriend/husband/older brother, you have—much to his surprise and confusion—called him “oppa.”
 
You’ve worried about the military enlistment of a man you’ve never met, in a country you’ve never been to. (Will the other soldiers pick on him because he distracted their girlfriends by being so cute in his dramas?!?!)

...Any others?

Drama Short: Hwang Jin Yi (2006) Review

Grade: B-


What it’s about
A historical drama inspired by the life and loves of a real-life Joseon-era courtesan. No matter how many men want her, Hwang Jin Yi’s only true love is her art: A musician, dancer, and poet, she willingly gives up everything to cultivate her skills. 


First impression 
Queen In-hyun’s Man left me hungry for a traditional sageuk, so I decided to give this a shot. It’s a much more down-and-dirty take on the role of the gisaeng than I’ve seen elsewhere, which makes it super interesting. And even if I could live without Ha Ji Won as an actress, Jang Geun Suk has never been cuter than he is playing her conflicted and slightly spineless lover.


Random thought
• You would think that music would be music everywhere, but it’s clear that there’s little or no overlapping in the DNA of traditional Korean music and any form of Western music. It’s amazing not only how different these two genres are, but also how completely the latter has taken over in Korea: Even historical dramas are set to easy-listening soundtracks that wouldn’t feel out of place on my small-town American radio station. And while there are some good things about globalization, it’s sad that it seems to inevitably amount to homogenization.

Final verdict
Fine, but not especially engaging. (Will I ever love a Ha Ji Won drama? Your guess is as good as mine.) Nonetheless, this show does have all the sageuk trappings you’re looking for: gorgeous scenery, beautiful costumes, and strong characters. Throw in several tragic romances and an uncompromising female lead, and Hwang Jin Yi drama turns into an easy, interesting watch. Not as compelling as the similarly themed Painter of the Wind, but worth your time if you’re into historical dramas.

Drama Short: Pasta (2010) Review

Grade: A

What it’s about

The politics and personalities in the kitchen of an upscale Italian restaurant in Seoul, with special emphasis on the forbidden love between the hardworking kitchen assistant and her prickly new chef.

First impression

Light and breezy. Dare I say...love at first bite? More please!

Final verdict

If you’ll pardon the doubtlessly overused metaphor, this well-executed dish definitely deserves a passing grade—it’s made with a near-perfect recipe and uses only the finest of ingredients. 

More of a lighthearted workplace drama than a traditional romantic comedy, Pasta may not have much of a central plot, but its underdog-makes-good storyline and episodic structure manage to stay fresh and interesting to the very end. (The middle does get a bit doldrumy, especially when the narrative starts to focus on the devious machinations of the show’s least likable character.) With its grown-up vibe and well-considered characterizations, Pasta is a laid-back, feel-good delight to watch. Its greatest charm, though, is the sweetly goofy relationship between its romantic leads: Coffee Prince’s sex-voiced Lee Sun Gyun and Greatest Love’s Gong Hyo Jin, she of the world’s most earnestly beleaguered expression.

Pasta also accomplished a rare feat: When I finish watching a Kdrama, I’m generally ready to move on to the next one, but this show’s final episode actually made me sad to say goodbye. 

Stray thoughts

• Pasta’s female lead is like the anti-Ha Ji Won: always engaging, always charming, and always someone I’d like to see more of.

• There may not be a lot of heat in this OTP, but boy are they ever cute together. They even seem like they’re having fun, a shockingly rare commodity in Kdrama romances, where love tends to be a supremely serious matter. 

• For such a food-porny show, most of the dishes served at La Sfera are a bit nouvelle cuisine for my tastes. (On the other hand, I would have gladly cleaned up all the extra servings lying around the set.) It’s amazing that everyone managed to stay so thin throughout this show, when practically every scene requires them to consume carbohydrates.

• Episode 2. 

Dear Goldfish: 

Consider moving to America! Here, you could sue this creep for gender discrimination.

Sincerely,

Amanda

• Episode 8. You know what else would be bad for business, Chef? If somebody died in the walk-in freezer, thereby necessitating legal intervention and probably shutting the place down altogether for the foreseeable future. 

• Episode 17. Screaming doesn’t seem to be the most effective of teaching methods, does it? Maybe you should try something new, Chef. Say...telling the person why you’re rejecting their dish instead of making them redo it again and again without feedback. But then again, your student should probably be looking for a day job anyway—she grew up in a restaurant family, went to culinary school, and worked for three years as a kitchen assistant and still can’t grill a scallop? (Frankly, this makes me feel better for being totally inept in the kitchen. Of course I suck, if someone with those credentials can barely manage to feed herself.)

Drama Short: Kimchi Family (2012) Review

Grade: C+

What it’s about
A family drama set in a traditional Korean restaurant. Food porn ahoy!

First impression

As of episode 5, I really like this show—it’s sweet, sentimental, and just this side of magical realism. Now if only it didn’t make me desperate to eat kimchi…

Final verdict

Overall, this show is nicely done. I don’t think it lived up to the promise of the first few episodes, though—in place of a genuine, nuanced exploration of family relationships, it gives us lots of meaningful smiles shared over vats of kimchi ingredients and approximately zero narrative friction. The drama feels disingenuous and standard issue, especially when the show started off hinting that its female lead had fought so intensely with her father she vowed never to set foot in her childhood home again. (Read full review here.) 

Drama Short: What Happened in Bali (2004) Review

Grade: C+


What it’s about
Downtrodden and impoverished Lee Soo-jung sells her soul (and a few other things of value) to a spoiled chaebol while dealing with her feelings for his sad-eyed rival, a poor man whose hard work and iffy morals bring him professional success.

Initial impression
A slow beginning nearly had me saying annyonghi kyeshipshiyo to this Korean hit, but the plot picked up significantly by episode 10.

Final verdict

A dark, easy-to-watch drama that explores humanity’s less noble impulses: jealousy, greed, obsession, and violence. What Happened in Bali boils down to twenty very long episodes filled with terrible people doing terrible things to each other, with no possibility of redemption in sight. While Que Sera Sera made misery seem sexy, this show just makes it seem … miserable. In short, the Wuthering Heights of Korean drama (only less good). Worth watching if you’re a fan of pitch-black melodramas that focus on overblown tragedies, but maybe not otherwise. (Be prepared for a nasty O. Henry twist ending, if you do watch.)

Stray thoughts
• Everywhere I go, there’s Ha Ji Won. Which is a pity, because I think she’s totally uninteresting: the only time I’ve ever enjoyed watching her on screen was King 2 Hearts.

• Hot leads, but 2004 was clearly a bad year for male hairstyles.

• Episode 9: Man, that was the most soul-besmirching wish-fulfillment shopping spree ever.

Big: Homestretch, Here We Come

Watching Big as it airs in Korea has been a weird experience for me.

Usually, I wait until a drama is fully subtitled and available online before starting it. I’m now realizing this means that I spend very little time assessing the show’s ongoing quality—it’s an organic whole when you’re free to watch episodes at will, a complete entity rather than 16 (or more) free-standing episodes that each demand individual scrutiny.

Spending time with a drama that’s currently airing is also strange for another reason: I’m not spoiled rotten the way I usually am when watching older shows. When deciding what to watch based on years worth of online reviews, there’s no way to avoid spoilers. I almost always know what’s coming from the very beginning—the way the OTP will fizzle out by the drama’s midpoint, that the show will take a quality nosedive after episode 12, that the shocking surprise ending involves incest. (Okay. I guess that one’s a surprise to no one watching a Korean drama.)  Truly, I’m not convinced that I want to avoid spoilers, anyway; there’s something to be said for the comfort of knowing just what to expect.

This is exactly what I don’t have with Big. Waiting for new episodes to air feels like hanging in suspended animation: there’s no moving forward of my own volition, so I have lots of time to think about exactly where the show stands, snapshot-style, at any given moment. And episodes watched this way take on their own independent identities (“episode 2 was amazing, but episode 8 was kind of boring”) in a way that just doesn’t happen when marathoning an already completed drama (“Dal Ja’s Spring was awesome!”).

At this point, it’s hard for me to judge Big’s quality because my experience of watching it has been so very different from all the other dramas I’ve seen.

Here’s what I know for sure: At the beginning, I loved how Big’s traditional-to-the-bones noona romance was enriched by the drama’s trippy premise and mindfucky storytelling. With each passing episode, though, the former is overpowering the later. After the time skip, my greatest fear was that the changed circumstances would downplay the body swap angle and level the balance of power in the OTP’s relationship, turning Big into a straightforward romance just like all the others. And guess what? That’s exactly what happened.

I still enjoy watching Big and am excited to see where it goes, but as things stand my primary reaction to the show is disappointment. As of episode 12, the originality and excitingly skewed perspectives of the first few episodes have been jettisoned in favor of a slightly above average love story and enough mercenary product placements to choke a blue whale. And now that much of the mystery has been revealed to the viewer it’s physically painful watching the characters slowly, sllloooowwwwllly piecing it together for themselves.

What’s good about this show could still save it—an amazing, knock-your-socks-off performance by a beloved lead actor (although even Gong Yoo’s significant charms seem to be flagging in the most recent episodes, thanks to the underwriting of his character), a compelling central storyline that is chock full the of potential for greatness, and a pleasantly amiable tone and cast that shouldn’t be underestimated.

I could easily fall back in love with Big, provided that the home stretch uses some snazzy narrative sleight of hand to pull the many fragments of this drama into focus. Will that happen? Painfully, the only option is waiting another two weeks to see.

Some notes:
• There are still random mysteries out there:
—Did Kyung Joon’s dad fall in love with his mom, the surrogate? Is that why Yoon Jae’s mom hates them so much?
—Why did Da Ran’s mom have a shaved head, as mentioned in episode 12? Did she shave her hair in protest of her parents’ disapproval of her lover? Or was she being treated for cancer, maybe bringing her into orbit with Yoon Jae’s dad?
—Will Ma Ri’s talismans—and Choong sik’s involvement with them—come back into the story?
—Does the Miracle book have another part to play? Da Ran and Kyung Joon don’t know about it yet, after all.
—Did anything significant happen at the wedding? Why hasn’t the drama included a single scene from such a momentous event? Was another wedding not in the budget? Or are those wily Hong sisters intentionally holding out on us?
—Will Kyung Joon’s body wake up on his birthday, as Ma Ri’s dream seemed to portend? And whose soul will be in it if it does? (I suspect the catalyst for this will be gathering the four family members together in one place—Yoon Jae, Kyung Joon, and mom and dad.)

• When Da Ran removed her ring and put it in a glass in episode 12, it recalled Kyung Joon’s soul-swapping demonstration in episode 2. But in contrast to the earlier scene, Da Ran’s soul is represented by the ring and the ties she has to another person. It’s oddly fitting that such a flat, motivationless character is embodied by nothing more than a symbol of matrimony, while Kyung Joon and Yoon Jae’s souls were embodied by fully-formed beings in the shape of robot figurines.

In his cups, episode 2

In her cup, episode 12