Playing Favorites

Coming up with their very own top-ten list seems to be a major rite of passage for every fan of Korean television. Now that I’ve been watching Kdrama for almost a year, I guess my time has come. I’ve seen seen an awful lot of dramas: some that I’ve loved, some that I’ve loathed, and some that weren’t good enough to merit either emotion.

The shows listed here may not be the finest dramas Korea has ever made, but they are my favorites—the ones that stuck with me long after I watched their final episodes.

1. Coffee Prince (2007). A delight on every level, Coffee Prince is rooted in what could have been just another Kdrama cliché: a hardworking, tomboyish girl pretends to be a boy to make money to support her family. Over the course of 17 episodes, though, it manages to subvert almost every drama trope as it grows into a genuine, heartfelt story of best friends falling in love. The perfect mix of comedy and melodrama, it’s peopled by a huge cast of incredibly compelling characters and graced with sky-high production values. This drama may not have much to say about homosexuality, but if you listen closely it does have something to say about what it means to be a woman, a state of being that, contrary to popular Kdrama opinion, doesn’t require a two-inch skirt, white pancake makeup, or teetery high-heels. With its heart in the real, everyday world, Coffee Prince is a Kdrama romance unlike any other: It’s not a show about finding ways to keep people apart. It’s a show about bringing them together. So wonderful, even a year after watching it for the first time just the thought of Coffee Prince can make me smile until my face hurts.

2. Sungkyunkwan Scandal (2010). Only the hardest of hearts won’t be charmed by this candy-colored, deeply principled fusion sageuk that values learning, loyalty, and friendship above all else. Yet another story about a girl pretending to be a boy so she can support her family, Sungkyunkwan Scandal features one of Kdrama’s greatest quartets, perfectly embodied by a group of young actors with unforgettably flirty chemistry. This show’s most wonderful conflict isn’t to be found in its archery contests, classroom competitions, or royal intrigues. Instead, it’s the constant battle of worldviews waged by the jaded female lead and the idealistic young Confucian scholar she comes to love. Fun, swoony, and sometimes silly, Sungkyunkwan Scandal’s dreamy brand of revisionist history is the perfect introduction to historical Kdramas.

3. Boys over Flowers (2009). This story of Cinderella meeting Prince-not-so-charming isn’t good by any stretch of the imagination—but if you’re susceptible to its particular brand of cheese, it’s nonetheless irresistible. With characters so flatly iconic they’re approaching Hero of a Thousand Faces territory, it focuses on a poor every-girl and the dashing, mega-rich (and mega-flawed) young man who inexplicably wants to whisk her away into his life of privilege. Boys over Flowers has it all: wish-fulfillment shopping sprees, lavish tropical vacations, a nail-biting love-triangle, and more handsome knights in shining armor than it knows what to do with. The impact of this sweetly chaste, odds-defying love story is still reverberating throughout Asia—and the world. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I cannot tell a lie: I loved almost every minute I spent watching this train wreck. 

4. Que Sera, Sera (2007). A sordid Kdrama for grownups, this is a dark gem full of complex characters, edge-of-your-seat storytelling, and deeply felt emotions. There’s no cartoony Kdrama villain to be found here; instead, human nature in all its greedy, jealous, and cruel guises takes on the role of bad guy. And just when you think Que Sera, Sera’s imperfect characters are completely beyond redemption, they find a way out of the cycle of hurt and regret that propels most of this drama’s action and emerge as people who might just be better for their heartbreaking pasts. Compulsively watchable and with a surprisingly satisfying ending, this dark horse drama isn’t to be missed.

5. Painter of the Wind (2008). The rarest of birds: A thoughtful, girl-centered sageuk that beautifully explores the creation of real-life works of art by two historical figures. At the heart of the story is the imagined relationship between the artists, part professional mentorship, part friendship, and part love. (Did I mention that the younger artist happens to be a girl pretending to be boy so she can attend the royal painting academy?) The most sincere of the Korean gender-bending dramas, it explores the repercussions that would probably be felt by someone who actually spent most of her life hiding her gender. For my money, the most compelling relationship in this show isn’t the one between the two leads, though—it’s the one between the young artist and the courtesan she romances while searching for her true self. Tragic, exciting, and gorgeously filmed.

6. Goong (2006). Still the gold standard when it comes to dramas featuring modern-day Korean royalty, Goong is a goofy take on the standard love triangle. Instead of chaebols, though, the every-girl female lead gets to choose between two handsome princes—one distant and prickly, the other sweet and clingy with a creepy mother from hell. Its clever conceit, able script, and almost painfully winsome cast elevate Goong above its rom-com competition. A perfect vehicle for Yoon Eun Hye, this drama is charming, sweet, funny, and so wonderfully unafraid of being cute and cuddly that every episode ends with a teddy-bear diorama. (I love you, Korea.)

7. I Need Romance (2011). This show is the one thing I never expected from a Korean drama: racy. The only Kdrama romance I’ve seen that honestly depicts adult relationships, sex and all, I Need Romance is built around the friendship between three women in their early 30s. It explores the perils and pleasures of love from each of their perspectives—one a goddess of lust, one a long-term girlfriend, and one a virgin. Although the making, breaking, and remaking of an established relationship is at the heart of this show, no member of its likeable cast is wasted. Sex in the City, if Sex in the City were less sex-mad and more sweet-hearted (and Korean).

8. Padam Padam (2012). Being no stranger to the gutter makes the heights reached by this supernatural romance all the more powerful. Having spent most of his adult life in prison after being convicted for the murder of his best friend, Padam Padam’s male lead is understandably dour and jaded. But when the stakes are highest, God or fate or the universe steps in to give him a chance at happiness, rewinding time and allowing him to right the wrongs he’s committed. The real miracle of this drama is that it never loses sight of telling a good story about compelling characters, even when faced with the distractions of heartrending possible angels, supernatural plot twists, and truly breathtaking cinematography. Even a fairly lame final plot twist and an uninteresting female lead aren’t enough to ruin this lovely, reflective show.

9. Time between Dog and Wolf (2007). An action thriller with a heart, Time between Dog and Wolf is a high-tension exploration of the relationships between fathers and sons, whether they’re related by blood or not. This is the drama City Hunter should have been but wasn’t: a beautifully shot, thoughtfully written story of a young man’s quest for revenge against his mother’s murderer, and all the many things that get in the way—including his love for the murderer’s daughter (this is a Korean drama, after all).

10. Shut Up! Flower Boy Band (2012). SUFBB’s screenwriters could have phoned it in—nobody expects a gimmicky drama intended for teenage girls to actually be good. Instead, they created a gritty, acutely observed coming-of-age story that just happens to focus on good-looking bad boys in a rock band, and be set in the cutthroat world of Kpop. This drama is most memorable for its brisk pacing, strong characterizations, and poignant adolescent friendships that are closer to family ties. Also, the cute boys. (Duh.)

Learned from the list:

• I love it when girls pretend to be boys. Sadly, I suspect this is because it’s one of the few times Kdrama rom-com girls get to be smart and capable instead of airheaded and bumbling. (Note, of course, that Go Mi Nyeo from You’re Beautiful is the exception that proves this rule. She’s airheaded and bumbling as either gender.) Also wonderful is that gender-bending romantic leads tend to spend more time together—they’re not separated by the Great Wall of Boy versus Girl.

• My absolute favorite dramas are some of the first few I watched—of course, they’re also most everyone’s favorites, which makes them popular and easy to find. I think it was also easier to love without reservation back in the early days of my obsession, when I was too blinded by the fantastically exotic sparkle of Kdrama to watch with a critical eye. (This, I like to think, explains my undying love for Boys over Flowers. It was the second Kdrama I ever saw—of course I imprinted on it like a baby duck.) It’s certainly harder to please me nowadays, but I also think that I’m running out of classics. My first year down the Kdrama rabbit hole was spent watching the greatest hits that are widely beloved and still under discussion, while today I’m branching out into lesser-known shows, which can be hit or miss.

• I love youthful coming-of-age romances, and wish there were more of them out there in dramaland. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m a failure at adulthood, but somehow I find 15 infinitely more interesting than 35.

• I’m incapable of writing about Korean drama without using the word heart a lot. Whether that says something about me or Kdrama, I’m not sure. On the bright side, I’d still rather jump off something extremely high than discuss a character’s (or person’s) dream, whatever it may be.

• When I started putting this list together, I was only sure of my top two or three dramas. As I got going, though, I realized all the shows that were coming to mind were ones I had devoted an entire blog post to (or most of one, anyway). The rest of the shows I’ve written about in detail here? They would go on this list’s counterpart—my ten least favorite Kdramas.

Sageuks: Ratings and Spoiler-free Capsule Reviews

I’ve been meaning to get around to posting some brief, spoiler-free drama ratings for a while now, and today seems to be the day. This week was slow on the drama watching front—the Hunger Games movie wasn’t as amazing as it might have been, but it was good enough to inspire me to re-read the series, which has been taking up most of my free time lately.

Rather than the same-old alphabetical list everybody else posts, I’m going to group my ratings into genre categories. And in honor of just wrapping up the goofy-but-fun Tamra, the Island, here’s sageuk.

Drama Review: Painter of the Wind

 

Painter of the Wind: A-

I sometimes revisit Coffee Prince’s online reviews just to vicariously relive the wonder of seeing this Kdrama for the first time. They tend to full of fawning adoration, but I recently found something unexpected: homophobia. “A fine romantic comedy,” the reviewer wrote, “with a backhanded endorsement of homosexual love.”

I think it’s safe to say that most Americans of my generation or younger don’t think that gayness is a big deal, the general consensus being that as long as consenting adults are involved, it’s not society’s business whom I—or anyone else—chooses to love. It seems that Korea’s views on homosexuality are more traditional, though, and that in Korea the show Coffee Prince really is notable for its approach to same-sex relationships.

As far as I’m concerned, Coffee Prince is not a show about homosexuality. It’s a show that references homosexuality, sure, and uses it as a convenient obstacle to draw out the romantic tension between its two leads. There isn’t one minute, however, when the viewer believes they’re watching two people of the same gender fall in love. We see Eun Chan as a girl from the very beginning, even if Han Gyul doesn’t.

It’s a whole different story in The Painter of the Wind, a similarly themed drama that aired in 2008. Sungkyunkwan Scandal’s less candy-coated and candy-colored cousin, it revolves around the misadventures of Shin Yoon Bok, a Joseon-era girl pretending to be a boy in order to attend the royal painting institute. Naturally, she falls in love with her dashing, nonconformist (male) teacher and the two work together to solve the mystery of her father’s murder.

Thoughtful, girl-centered sageuks are hard to find, but Painter of the Wind is both. Its speedy plotting and fully drawn characters are a pleasure to watch, making it hard to stop at just one (or five) episodes at a sitting. And, unexpectedly, its painting scenes are every bit as visceral and exhilarating as the most well-executed action sequences you can imagine.

What I find most noteworthy here isn’t the show's main relationship, though. The low-key, courtly love Yoon Bok shares with her mentor is sweet and touching, if unremarkable and vaguely incestuous (he’s much older and was close friends with her real father). It's Painter of the Wind's secondary couple that really caught my attention: Yoon Bok and Jeong Hyang, the gayageum-playing gisaeng. (Try saying that five times fast. Or once, even.) While disguised as a boy, Yoon Bok allows her powerful friendship with this girl to veer into love. Their relationship is so intense, in fact, that even after the big reveal of Yoon Bok's gender, the couple continues to call each other "beautiful beloved."

Yoon Bok’s family are the only ones who know that she’s a woman, and as that family begins to shatter she is left almost totally without a support system. The show stresses that in Jeong Hyang, Yoon Bok sees both herself—a young artist forced into servitude, her life not her own—and what Yoon Bok believes she could never be again, a mannerly, feminine woman.

As Jeong Hyang becomes Yoon Bok’s muse and their relationship deepens, they share a number of tender, loving scenes and enjoy some degree of physical intimacy. We’re not talking Boys Don’t Cry here, but at one point Jeong Hyang is clearly ready to go all the way with her dear painter, and Yoon Bok is just as clearly reluctant to stop the proceedings. 

When she’s near her male mentor Yoon Bok is nervous and jumpy, afraid to touch him and more than willing to stay in the role of subservient, malleable student. With Jeong Hyang, however, she isn’t a bit shy and thoughtlessly takes the lead, right down to convincing the gisaeng to pose half-naked for a painting.

The script doesn’t seem to take a stand on what these differences mean—maybe Yoon Bok’s easy comfort around Jeong Hyang is meant to show that Yoon Bok doesn’t view her in a romantic light. Or maybe the parallel relationships exist to show Yoon Bok’s duality. She has been living as a man for her whole adolescence, forced into the role by an adoptive father hungry for her skill as a painter, and has almost completely lost her female self. Half male, she takes the lead. Half female, she is led.


If you squint just right, it's even possible to find a happy ending for Yoon Bok and Jeong Hyang. As foreshadowed in the drama's first episode, the main couple don't end up together. But the show says goodbye to both girls in the same way—they're shown separately boarding what appears to be the very same ship, headed off into the very same horizon. 

In terms of OTP, Painter of the Wind has left me no choice: Yoon Bok’s mentor may be a father to her, but Jeong Hyang is her heart.