31/07/2021

THE KING: ETERNAL MONARCH (2020)

더 킹: 영원의 군주
SBS, Netflix / 2020 / 16 episodes
Genres: fantasy, romantic drama
Written by Kim Eun-sook
Directed by Baek Sang-hoon, Jung Ji-hyun
More information: Wikipedia / HanCinema

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →




A King Without a Kingdom: 
Kitsch and Clichés
in The King: Eternal Monarch






I could describe the story of this time-traveling drama. What the difference is between the Kingdom of Corea and the Republic of Korea seen within it. What its conflict is. What kind of characters travel between the two worlds and why. What it is like when two people belonging to different worlds fall in love. But I will not do so, because it is completely unnecessary.

Even if they are not sophisticated, the professional experts of the Korean entertainment industry can wrap watchable, mediocre stories around anything. Now, however, it does not matter what they did, because the dominant characteristics of the end result completely buried everything for which a drama is worth wasting time on. Yet, from the basic idea of The King: Eternal Monarch, a spectacular, interesting, and humorous drama could have been made; it’s a pity.

Instead, they managed to bring to the screen a Cinderella story that simply trips the wire of good taste. In reality, they aimed for nothing else than to parade the fairy-tale king (instead of a prince), who struts in marvelous costumes on his snow-white steed while riding into Seoul on one of the multi-lane highways. And he stays that way, only occasionally getting mixed up in kitschy backdrops. It seems entirely as if the character had been written for Lee Min-ho from the start, who fully delivers this "posur" figure.

It would be cool if we received signs that this is a joke, because then something could be done with it. But the creators present the royal stranger—trading in golden statues—with deadly seriousness throughout, just as they do the fact that the loud-mouthed and phlegmatic police girl soon capitulates before the Peerless Man of Women's Dreams, and thereafter staggers after him dazed in both empires, with the tears of longing in her eyes. Seriously, I have never seen a male character whose sole prescribed characteristic was to be "gallant," come what may. We have, however, seen several similar unfortunate female characters, but perhaps never one so childishly like a girl's romance novel.

Although one should also protest against the fooling of youth with such outdated patterns, the thought still arises: perhaps they targeted 8-10-year-old little girls with this drama? But surely not, because quite a few evil uncles also appear in the story who do not shrink from killing either.

I cannot distance myself from the thought that the cash register was constantly ringing in the ears of the series' makers when they were thinking about how much revenue could be brought by stuffing the story with elements found to be well-proven by previous opinion polls, whether they fit together or not. Thus, around the already out-of-place king, we get an empire in whose future world the royal household operates according to the clichés of historical dramas, while the wicked witch of a Prime Minister schemes while tottering in haute couture dresses and high heels, and our king—promoted to a military leader—leads the naval battle against the Japanese with his chest bared (naturally evoking some current-political island disputes as well).

At this point, humor was nevertheless brought to me by Netflix’s subtitling, according to which (in both English and Hungarian) this command is issued while we see destroyers charging toward the naval enemy: "Motorboat fleet 203, block them from the front."

Otherwise, health to everyone who likes this sort of thing. For me, it goes into the bin, even if the bamboo forest was beautiful and there were characters in it worthy of a better fate.


























FULL HOUSE Take 2 (2012)

풀하우스 2
SBS Plus & TBS Channel 2 (Japan) / 2012 / 20 episodes (40 parts)
Genres: drama
Written by Park Yeong-sook
Directed by Kim Jin-young, Nam Gi-hoon
More information: Wikipedia / HanCinema




Full House Take 2:
New Voices in a Familiar Home






It was a bold thought to dream up a second series for the smash hit Full House from eight years prior. Personally, I was reluctant to watch it, fearing that an unsuccessful attempt would damage the original, great experience. It took No Min-woo for me to finally persuade myself to view it, because ever since I saw him in Rock Rock Rock, I have given him my vote of confidence in anything.



The new series was ultimately born as a Korean-Japanese-Chinese co-production and was aired after its entire production was completed, which is a rarity considering that the majority of series are still being filmed while the first episodes are already being broadcast on television channels.

Fortunately, this second series is only loosely connected to the first story, adopting a few of its motifs and turns, and even those rather only as reminders. The characters are completely different, and the story itself is independent.

The Full House itself, as a building, is not as dominant a character in this drama as in its predecessor, but reclaiming it is at stake here as well—only now, it is not the girl but one of the male protagonists fighting for it. Instead of the original romantic square, we now find a classic triangle, although a fourth character appears later who, in reality, does not cause much stir in the existing relations but helps clarify the reasons for the conflicts.

The setting of the series was placed into the K-pop scene, which was already thundering at full throttle on the international stage in 2012; thus we can thank this for numerous performance snippets, and a portion of the conflicts also sheds light on the hidden relations of the industry, which promised almost certain public success.

The two male members of the love triangle are two idols from a formation called Take One, who cannot stand each other and are in constant struggle in both professional and personal fields. Beside the popular, universally liked Won Kang-hwi (Park Ki-woong), the other member is the grumpy, ill-mannered Lee Tae-ik (No Min-woo), who struggles for the recovery of the Full House designed by his father, which is the property of the agency that also employs him. A talented, beginner girl, Jung Man-ok (Hwang Jung-eum)—whose given name means Full House in English translation—joins the duo, trying her hand as a stylist.




Naturally, both men begin to take an interest in the girl, who, despite maintaining a smooth and affectionate relationship with Kang-hwi, finds her heart drawn for some reason toward the reserved, hard-to-read Tae-ik. Shortly, we find everyone under the shared roof of the Full House, and then in the hapkido gym, which is the property of Man-ok's grandfather, where the girl is actually an instructor. While the romantic skirmishes are ongoing, the boys embark on solo careers, during which they are completely vulnerable to the interests and arbitrariness of the agency. They must take up the gauntlet against this as well.

The greatest difference of the second series, however, lies in the way the events are shown. While in the original Full House we moved forward along internal, emotional shifts, now external events drive the story forward much more. Through this, the atmosphere of the two series also differs greatly; in the second one, we do not truly find the intimacy so characteristic of the first, in which we could perceive the smallest emotional flickers magnified. The same applies to the humor, which this time is also not really the protagonists' own, but rather entrusted to characters intended to be funny, occasionally quite crude.

However, the story is well-written and contains interesting conflicts and turns. The strength of the drama is once again in the well-developed characters and the acting. The girl is not a conventional beauty; there is something of a young girl's bohemianism in her, but she is a determined, strong personality. Kang-hwi's story receives a turn strongly characteristic of melodramas with the deterioration of his vision, which I feel to be somewhat foreign or exaggerated in this piece. It has the advantage, nonetheless, that it provides a great acting opportunity for Park Ki-woong, which he realizes very beautifully.

Among the characters of the first Full House, Lee Young-jae is reflected most in Lee Tae-ik. No Min-woo had to show the same thing as Rain once did, and this is none other than the tension between the character's inner feelings and the inability to show them. Yet they solved the similar task in completely different ways. No Min-woo is not as multifaceted as Rain, but he has a wilder emotional world, in which determination rather than path-finding dominates. The instinctive humor that flowed so naturally from his predecessor is not his own, but he is at home in situational comedy. Generally, he is like a drawn bow, constantly tensed to the breaking point. While Rain's face revealed everything, No Min-woo's posture speaks, but even more so his eyes. In his passionate moments, his burning gaze becomes visible, with which he could sometimes even kill. At the same time, he is still gentle, and loneliness radiates from him just as it once did from Young-jae.

Among the supporting characters, the employees of the agency must be highlighted, among whom villains and honest people wanting to act for the credibility of their profession can equally be found. The drama is not stingy with the undisguised presentation of blinded, unscrupulous fans either; we could think many scenes about them are funny if we did not know their truthfulness. And of course, there is the media as well, both traditional and social, with its influence shaping the fate of the characters. As well as the hapkido grandfather, who is more fearsome than anyone (for a while).

Perhaps to distinguish the world of the series from the real K-pop reality, the drama's stylists (especially the hairdressers) went to great excesses; sometimes they should have been told off. Fortunately, it is true for the actors here as well that they are naturally such beautiful people whose appearance was difficult to spoil even in this way.

The first series became famous for its music too; unfortunately, the second falls short of it in this field as well. Although there are beautiful songs in it, they fall into oblivion quite quickly.

The second Full House nevertheless did not cause any particular disappointment, although it could not come close to the greatness of the first series. Regardless, it is a drama providing a pleasant, entertaining experience.

























28/07/2021

ALICE (2020)

앨리스
SBS, 2020, 16 episodes
Genres: drama, sci-fi, thriller
Written by Kang Cheol-gyoo, Kim Ga-yeong, Kim Gyoo-won
Directed by Baek Soo-chan
More information: Wikipédia / HanCinema



* Warning: This post contains spoilers! *


Alice:
A Symphony of Time, Fate,
and Quantum Paradoxes






Alice is a very successful piece among science fiction series, dealing with the popular theme of time travel. Its structure is a magnificent construction, complex enough to keep viewers in a state of constant alert amidst thriller-like excitement, providing ample food for thought in finding explanations.

According to the story, by the year 2050, research has led to success and time travel has become possible. The intention of the researchers was to enable meetings with loved ones from the past, as well as the rectification of mistakes committed. An enterprise named Alice was established for this purpose, with its headquarters settled in the year 2020. The company organizes time travels for its clients arriving from the future, among whom it seems that more and more are transgressing the established rules created to preserve the order of the world.







The protagonist of the series is Detective Park Jin-gyeom (Joo Won), who, along with his colleagues, faces numerous inexplicable cases. Following their trail, the thought arises in him that they are facing time travelers, which seems an impossibility. The investigation leads him to a female physics researcher, Yoon Tae-i (Kim Hee-sun), and upon meeting her, the detective notices with shock that the woman is the exact double of his mother, who was murdered ten years prior under mysterious circumstances. Jin-gyeom became a police officer specifically to find his mother's killer, whom he has been investigating ever since.

The threads lead to a research institute named Kuiper, and they increasingly run into the employees of Alice as well. The investigation taking place in 2020 is soon colored by time travels in which Tae-i and Jin-gyeom are participants. These journeys enrich the backstories of the two protagonists with new information and realizations, as well as point to the questions to be answered in the contemporary investigation. We see the characters appearing in the story in multiple forms—who are their own versions from different times or different dimensions—and accordingly, their characteristics and intentions change. Finally, an unknown grouping emerges whose members follow a mysterious Master.

The unfolding of the series' story is built on a mystical element. Simultaneously with the beginning of the time travels, according to rumors, a writing was also born: the Book of Prophecies, which predicts the end of the time travels and contains the method for their final shutdown. Some fighting for the continuation of the travels, others for their termination, but every organization struggles resolutely to acquire the book, which they eventually find, and thereafter it changes hands several times. The problem is represented by the last page torn from the book and gone missing, which contains the final prophecy. While they search for its whereabouts, as the story progresses, we get to know certain details of the book, and we see the events corresponding to them in the plot.



Jin-gyeom's travels lead back to the day of his mother's death every time. We always see the same thing in different versions, supplemented by a few newer elements, but the end result is always the same: his mother is killed. The realization of the prophecy of the final page and a parable based on a paradox brings the change that influences the actions of both the mother and Jin-gyeom.

Alice thus satisfies the expectations of fans of both sci-fi and mysticism. Through the lectures of Professor Yoon Tae-i, we always get a few sentences of insight into the mysteries of quantum physics, and we play with such well-known elements as the parable popularized under the name "Schrödinger's cat."

Despite the complicated web, the series as a whole is quite coherent, yet—as is not rare in the case of such stories—it leaves certain questions unanswered. Such is, for example, the relationship between the parallel realities and the final solution answering the paradox of the closing parable. It is difficult to interpret why the original day is preserved—even if in a modified form—with the characters of the time traveler, and how memories can remain or be recalled whose owners never existed. Of course, we receive sentimental references regarding the omnipotence of love, but this still does not fit into the strict logical order of the story.

Perhaps the explanation for the strangeness is to be sought in the fact that the creators of the series wanted to satisfy the desires of viewers longing for romance as well, and let us admit they did so masterfully. For despite emphasizing logical explanations several times, they nevertheless keep another possibility hovering throughout: whether the detective sees different age versions of his mother at all times, or whether the younger and older woman are two independent beings of different dimensions with separate life stories and personalities? In reality, it is our movie-watching routine that sees romantic attraction into their relationship as well, which immediately triggers our resentment against the unnatural mother-son relationship—moreover, the conclusion leaves this question open as well. Yet if we watch the shared scenes carefully, in none of them does anything happen other than what could occur between a mother and her child at any time. For the making of a subsequent series, all this can be interpreted as a cliffhanger; thus, it is not surprising that the news of a sequel has already arrived.

The visual world of the film must be highlighted, in which the futuristic locations, events, and devices can be seen in eye-pleasing design and execution—the Alice building, the road leading to it, the drones and weapons, the functioning of the punitive handcuffs, or even the depiction of the freezing of time are magnificent. The reserved showing of the mysterious book is also effective. The interiors are realistic and lifelike, whether they be from the past, present, or future.





We do not lack action either; we can enjoy well-executed, surprisingly inventive car chases and stunt performances.

The characters of the two protagonists stand out high above the rest, as both actors received diverse acting opportunities through their richly written roles. In Kim Hee-sun's performance, we accurately perceive the personality differences between the contemporary and the time-traveler Yoon Tae-i. While the young girl is chatty and cheerful, a very determined, sharp-witted being, the woman in the maternal role is a delicate and deeply feeling, worried person full of love. One cannot pass by the mother's finely feminine, mature beauty without word.



We could already see in Good Doctor seven years earlier with what incredible authenticity Joo Won displayed the protagonist possessing autistic characteristics. Now too, he had to show something similar, because the detective in the film struggles with a problem called alexithymia, which makes it impossible for him not only to express his emotions but also to recognize them in himself or in others. Such people identify emotions from the accompanying bodily signs (gestures, facial expressions, and the like), and they are capable of working off this disadvantage through learning. Although series creators are fond of employing such character traits, in this case, it repeatedly enriches the acting potential of bringing Jin-gyeom to life. On one hand, the deadpan detective's effort to follow behavioral norms is a constant source of humor, to which we can thank such dialogue snippets as this interrogation detail between the schoolboy Jin-gyeom and a police officer:

- We go to the same theater club.
- Theater? Do you want to be an actor?
- No. My mother forces me to go; she says it's useful.
- Useful? For what?
- It hasn't helped yet, so I don't know.
On the other hand, it makes the character inscrutable and mysterious, as one can never know what Jin-gyeom is thinking. And in its extremely exaggerated manifestation, this trait makes one version of the character blood-curdling. Joo Won never falls out of character: be it an action driven by passion or involving pain, his face remains almost motionless; it is always his gaze that betrays his feelings, which of course he also possesses, even if he is not aware of it. Through this rigid exterior, he is nevertheless capable of conveying a full arsenal of feelings, making his acting once again perfect and memorable. And then we have not even mentioned his great performances shown in the action scenes. If all this were not enough, then we can see Jin-gyeom in three different ages of his life, which he can make authentic with the difference in their movement and voice, one version with the help of an excellent performance by a mask master.





We encounter a multitude of further great characters in the series, and the majority of the actor choices are also a bullseye. Beside a few weaker characters—for me such were Detective Ko (Kim Sang-ho), Tae-i's foster father (Choi Jung-woo) causing a disturbance at the police station in the only perfectly incredible scene of the drama, or the time-traveler psychopathic fratricide (Lee Jung-hyun-I9)—we see great ones as well, like Choi Won-young as the leader of Kuiper or Yoo Joo-man as the perpetrator of the serial killings. The members of Alice are all bullseyes, who differ from the contemporary figures perhaps thanks to their special, yet not dominantly perceptible makeup. Although in the role of Yoo Min-hyuk, Kwak Si-yang is present in the story almost throughout, his role could have been made much more emphatic, because thus his developing relationship with the detective remained somewhat pale despite the interesting and well-shaped character.




Alice is an eventful, tight series rich in surprising turns, definitely worth watching. Especially because beyond the cinematic excitement, it also raises numerous moral questions related to intervention in our fate, or to the consequences of great human inventions and the greed and lack of scruples influencing their utilization.


























22/07/2021

A LOVE TO KILL (2005)

이 죽일 놈의 사랑
KBS, 2005, 16 episodes
Genres: melodrama
Written by Lee Kyeong-hee
Directed by Kim Kyoo-tae, Kwak Jeong-hwan
More information: Wikipédia / HanCinema




Note: This analysis assumes prior knowledge of the drama.
It is intended for those who have already seen the series
or do not mind major plot details being revealed.



A Love to Kill:
An Analytical Essay






Since this drama is not among the most recent, I believe I can start with its aftermath—an experience many of its "victims" can attest to. Viewers consistently report that weeks, or even months later, a peculiar pain continues to haunt them, resurfacing even years later at the mere thought of this series. I must confirm this experience; although it came as a great surprise to me, I was not spared either. This was something entirely different from the average emotional stirrings a TV series usually evokes. I can hardly recall a similar experience, with perhaps one exception: it may be a strange comparison, but I felt a similar, profound shock after watching Oliver Stone's The Doors.

Is this merely a case of feminine oversensitivity? Or is it something much deeper? One cannot help but think of a literary precursor. Goethe's novel, The Sorrows of Young Werther, allegedly triggered a wave of suicides; even if the "wave" is legend, numerous suicides committed under the influence of the writing are proven facts. Explaining this, Antal Szerb wrote: “There is much more in the novel than the cliché sentimental spirit of the age… into the sentimental and graceful rococo frame, Goethe composed the infinite.”

While A Love to Kill (hereafter ALTK) is neither sentimental nor gracefully rococo, a sense of the infinite nevertheless glimmers within it—perhaps the infinity of human emotions in all their diversity, destiny, and timelessness. The genre of ALTK is melodrama, and as such, it shares a spiritual kinship with Greek tragedies. By highlighting a few of their common characteristics, we realize the reason for this kinship: both genres contain a closed plot featuring dramatic turns; neither can dispense with the tragic hero who commits a certain "dramatic fault" (hamartia), leading to their fall. Despite struggling against their fate, the conclusion leads us through a profound catharsis.

After the literary melodramas—which enjoyed a prestigious history before ending up among "dime novels"—the genre took root in cinema as well. However, cinematic melodrama often has a more dubious reputation than its classical Greek ancestor. While the genre originally served as a designation for a mode of artistic expression, it eventually slid into the realm of sentimental, "kitsch" works. But not entirely, and not permanently. Melodrama as a genre, or melodramatic effects as a stylistic toolkit, repeatedly regains strength, adapting to the characteristics of a given era or the genre into which it is integrated.

The revival of modern cinematic melodrama occurred with peculiar force in Korean cinema, creating unique blends with numerous elements of local culture.

ALTK is a contemporary television melodrama that simultaneously contains the characteristics of the condensed drama found in classic feature-film melodramas: the noir atmosphere, the somber and tragic sprawling narrative, the unexpected fatal turns, the errors and transgressions with terminal consequences, the polygon of romantic rivalry, the storm of passions, the struggle against a fate rushing toward doom, and the tragic finale. All of this, however, is presented in the extended and slightly more epic form characteristic of series, while retaining the role of monologues and the use of music to heighten emotional tension. The name of the genre itself refers to the latter: "melos" means music, while "drama" means play—collectively, it is a musical drama.

Perhaps even this much suggests that melodrama is not so easy to judge. While a disdainful prejudice exists against it, if we look closer at how many recognized and high-quality works it is a core element of, we may find ourselves perplexed. There is a constant search for the "litmus test" that separates the valuable from the worthless. One such attempt suggests the difference lies in the hero's agency: while the hero of a Greek tragedy actively fights against their fate and falls precisely because of this struggle (triggering our profound shock), the melodramatic heroes suffer deeply but give in to their fate in an inactive manner, leading us to pity them or shed tears for them. The examination of ALTK will be particularly interesting from this perspective.

The drama was produced and aired by KBS2, starting on October 31, 2005, with the 16-episode broadcast ending just before Christmas. We do not know if it snowed in Korea on December 20, but the snowy images of the final episode certainly resonated with the atmosphere of the winter season.

The drama was written by Lee Kyung-hee, who established her reputation two years earlier with Sang-doo, Let's Go to School!. The series was directed by Kim Kyoo-tae, for whom this was his second drama. From the ninth episode, Kwak Jeong-hwan joined him, marking his first credit as a director, though he had previously served as an assistant director on Sang-doo. The music for ALTK was composed by music directors Choi Seong-kwon and Kim Ji-soo, along with Choi In-hee.

The Title of the Drama

The original Korean title is '이 죽일 놈의 사랑' (I jugil nom-ui sarang). The official English translation became A Love to Kill. However, I noted that in the Naver Korean dictionary, 'jugil nom' means not only a "killer" but also a "scoundrel," a "wretch," or a "miserable figure"; it has even been translated as "guilty" in song titles. Thus, in my opinion, it is possible to translate the title literally as "The Sinful Love of a Scoundrel/Wretch," or more poetically, "Guilty Love." While it seems like a nuanced difference, the latter perhaps expresses the essence of the drama more completely.

Synopsis

Bokgu brutally breaks up with his true love for the sake of Dajeong, a loud-mouthed girl with a troubled life who saved him during a fire. He is a K-1 fighter who has been searching for his missing older brother, Mingu, for ten years. When the brothers finally reunite, Mingu unexpectedly commits suicide before his brother's eyes after hearing news of his former actress lover's engagement. He survives but suffers brain damage, becoming paralyzed and mute, reacting emotionally only to a photograph of his former love.

Bokgu plots revenge against the actress, Eunsuk, based on a picture he forms where Eunsuk and her family deeply humiliated his brother, forcing him out of her life because they saw the simple, working-class young man as an obstacle to her success. Bokgu joins the actress as a bodyguard and, using his brother's diary, repeats Mingu's courtship step-by-step, confusing and eventually seducing the emotionally void woman.

Meanwhile, Dajeong extorts money from the actress in Mingu's name, intending to help Bokgu cover hospital costs. Because of this, Eunsuk believes Mingu betrayed her and disappeared for money. A wealthy chaebol heir, Kim Joonsung, appears, and scandalous photos of him and Eunsuk flood the media. To appease his father's anger, Joonsung forces Eunsuk into a marriage. A fierce battle ensues between the two men for Eunsuk's love, culminating in Bokgu helping her escape her engagement, only to shatter her feelings afterward by revealing he was merely playing with her.

Bokgu eventually realizes he has fallen in love with Eunsuk and discovers his revenge was based on a fatal misunderstanding—Eunsuk was innocent. After many tragic turns, including Mingu waking from a coma and eventually passing away, Bokgu and Eunsuk are caught in a cycle of self-destruction, unable to live with or without each other. In the end, they find their final union only in death.

The Structure of the Drama

If I attempt to designate the smaller, cohesive units within the 16 episodes, the following structure emerges, which interestingly reminds one of the structure of a stage play. The relatively long "act" of the unfolding is followed by two shorter sections:

        Overture and Exposition (Episodes 1-2)
                Backstories, the emergence of the conflict: the formulation of revenge

        First Act (Episodes 3-10)
                The unfolding of the plot: the execution and fulfillment of the revenge

        Second Act (Episodes 11-12)
                Turning point: recognition of the fatal error, mutual insights, and apologies An attempt at
                a new, independent life through a lie: hiding Mingu from Eunsuk

        Third Act (Episodes 13-15)
                New life on the ground of reality: the shared life of Eunsuk and Mingu Mingu's death
                and the consequences of his last will

        Epilogue (Episode 16)

The Construction of Individual Episodes

The following points refer to the version known to me; it is possible that different editions (original television broadcast, DVD versions) contain different types of editing.

The individual parts are 60 minutes long, with a difference of one or two minutes, with the exception of the first episode, which is almost 69 minutes in duration, as it also contains a lyrical overture composed to music.

The other episodes begin in medias res, meaning without a main title, showing only the sequence numbers of the chapters and the highlighted inscriptions of the cast and crew. The main title will be visible much later and appears in a different place in each part, mostly around the 10th minute, or even much later. In several episodes, however, it is not seen at all.

At the beginning of each part, we can see a summary of the preceding main events. The events of the given episode follow each other in chronological order, interspersed with projections of inner thoughts or feelings of déjà vu, as well as flashbacks that present earlier events. The majority of these take place in black and white, primarily those in which descriptions from Mingu's diary come to life. Although the use of the black-and-white distinction is not entirely consistent, these contribute to creating the noir atmosphere of the series.

Within the scenes or in their transitions, the cuts result in countless lyrical or even dramatic connections. The director has a preference for using images montaged in such a way that while the characters are participants in different events, it nevertheless appears as if they were at the same location or in a relationship with each other.

We see very beautiful examples of this in the first episode, for instance, during the rescue of the banker girl jumping into the water. We feel that Bokgu and Eunsuk are swimming toward each other under the water and Bokgu puts his arm around the actress, yet the camera emerging from the water already shows the banker girl on Bokgu's shoulder.

Two examples of linking scenes: 1) Eunsuk, searching for Mingu, cries out desperately after the man: "Kang Mingu, you jerk!" – to which Bokgu turns back, hearing his brother's words within himself. 2) Joonsung strikes his car in anger, and at the sound of the thud, Eunsuk, at a different location, screams.

With these solutions, the director achieves a continuous visual connection created between the characters, often not just between the two visible participants, but evoking the third person who connects them, mostly Mingu.

The solutions are also memorable when we cannot decide exactly what triggers the reaction: for example, Bokgu is just about to punch the man approaching Dajeong, while unexpectedly Mingu appears – and Bokgu's fist shatters a mirror, leaving it to the viewers to decide for whom the passionate punching was intended.

The ends of the episodes are closed by previews of the next part, every time with a perfect cliffhanger triggering tense curiosity, and of course, with the full list of cast and crew.

Overture

The 2-and-a-half-minute mood-setting foundation of the series is a lyrical composition made from extracts of the first episode's scenes. Accompanied by emotional music, we see Bokgu lying in the grass by the riverbank, who, looking through his fingers, first observes the sun, then with his hand falling into the grass, seems to want to reach for something. Eunsuk lies on the sandy seashore, her hand likewise wanting to touch something – perhaps Bokgu, who reflects her movement. The images speak simultaneously of longing and separation.


Versions of the Main Title

We see several versions of the unusual main title that appears in various places. In the images alternating between color and black and white to dramatic music, Bokgu follows Eunsuk, eventually turning to face her and raising his pistol at her. However, in episodes 1, 7, and 8, no shot is fired. In episode 2, we hear the sound of the shot, following which a veil falls from the sky. In episode 12, the pistol also falls onto the falling veil, and a tear rolls down each of Eunsuk's and Bokgu's faces. In the other episodes, no main title is seen, except for episode 4, where around the 12th minute, a lyrical compilation completely different from these can be seen as the main title with close-up images of the four main characters, followed by Eunsuk and Bokgu embracing.





The Drama's Social Portrait

The characters of the story can be organized into roughly three groups, each of which forms the environment of one of the main protagonists. These groupings are situated on different steps of the social hierarchy. All are residents of the same city, yet worlds separate them from each other.

The lowest status is represented by the people seen around Bokgu, or even more so, Dajeong. A company of a strange composition lives in the poor house: the boxing coach and his mother, as well as Dajeong and three other guys associated with the sports club, including Bokgu. Their lifestyle most resembles village life; they wash in a basin in the yard, heating the water, which must be saved. They are young people without a family background who can mostly count on each other. While the boys are tied to the gym and presumably live off the income earned there, Dajeong pursues a much more dubious activity with money lending. A situation marginalized to the periphery of society characterizes them, in which contact with the underworld is not difficult either. Other characters in the drama not infrequently speak of them with contempt. At the same time, Bokgu appears as a strong outsider here as well, as if he had only come among them because of Dajeong, without whom he is completely homeless, with nowhere to go.


The drama shows the middle class through Eunsuk's family, who already live in settled circumstances. They have their own family house and what appear to be secure incomes. The greatest danger lurks within them in the form of the stepmother, who greedily strives to climb higher and higher on the social ladder and is therefore capable of reckless acts, the commission of which also ruins their difficultly built lives. It causes no problem for her to exploit others and then discard them either. Even her maternal love easily accommodates sacrificing her children's happiness for the sake of their well-being. Although the family members do not truly agree with her, each of them is purchasable, easily surrendering to the will of the rich guy who appeared unexpectedly. Therefore, they are in fact best characterized by being "upstarts" rather than by a stable middle-class mentality.



Joonsung and his wealthy family represent the peak of the social hierarchy. The chaebol heir, however, perhaps possesses the smallest room for maneuver against the will of his commanding father. Every step he takes is driven by the desire to conform to his father, from whom he has learned nothing else but to possess and to command. However, the life lived according to rigid etiquette, taking place among noble backdrops, is full of sub-surface agitation.


Every single person of higher status thinks they can direct the lives of those below them, who would have the duty to comply with their will. Eunsuk and Joonsung are rebel figures in this sense, who tear apart the shackles of the family order. And Bokgu is the subversive element himself, who kicks over every rule around him. Their rebellions also react back upon their environment: after unsuccessful attempts at suppression, if understanding and acceptance toward them are not born, a temporary tolerance of their irregularity occurs. Naturally, in every single environment, tranquility is represented by a superficial restoration of order.

As this is a love story, we can primarily examine the image related to male and female roles readable from the drama. A rather traditional image unfolds before us, because we do not see independent young people responsible for their own lives and possessing freedom of decision. Those living in a family struggle in the web of the parents' ideas and demands, who are driven by the notions of a suitable marriage that also ensures the greatest benefits for the family. Even in front of the eyes of Dajeong, who is exempt from this, the wedding constantly floats, which Bokgu does not shy away from either, he would just perhaps prefer to experience it by the side of another person.

Looking through the magnifying glass of the drama, it seems that in 2005, regularities were still embodied in the caring man harboring simultaneously romantic and pragmatic concepts, and in the woman finding fulfillment in marriage, while the transgression of these qualified as deviant behavior. In such an interpretation, the drama could also convey the important message that happiness is a higher-order value than wealth and power.

Characters and Character Development




Kang Bokgu (Jung Ji-hoon Rain)

Fitting for the male protagonist of the drama, he is a character of extraordinary complexity. He is very silent, always enclosed in his own world. From his childhood, he brought with him low self-esteem and aggressive tendencies. It happens several times that he drastically rejects it when someone wants to come to his defense, because he considers himself unworthy of it. He is full of guilt, which the drama initially expresses in the haunting children's song, and then this is replaced by Eunsuk's world-filling crying – Bokgu flees from both with his hands pressed to his ears. In the first scenes, the silence is accompanied by slowed-down movement and a neglected appearance, and Bokgu does not even communicate, but spits out words and half-sentences from himself. In K-1 matches he is talented but very cruel, for a while only with his opponents, then finally with himself. It is an important moment when he is asked in the locker room what the goal of his life is, and besides the condescending gesture given as an answer, in reality, he has no idea what to say. His nickname in the film is '개 복구' (Kae Bokgu), in which '개' (kae) means dog, in the sense of 'naughty dog/cur'.

The accident of his brother only plunges him deeper, a turn is finally brought into his life by the formulation of the idea of revenge. From then on, he comes to life, becomes completely vitalized. He pulls himself together both externally and mentally, and the goal-oriented Bokgu appears. The frantic determination of the consistent execution of the revenge, as well as the emotions arising in the meantime, play on an extremely wide scale, expressing his uncertainties and their dismissal as well. Towards Mingu, we see his caring, worried side, terrified of losing his brother. We also get to know the playful and kind set of ideas that he is capable of mobilizing to keep his brother alive. While he is an implacable and insolent opponent to his romantic rival, towards the woman he wishes to conquer he is attentive and gentle, even if initially he only lies about it. Despite appearances, Bokgu is a deeply feeling person whose inner instincts whisper much earlier that he has gone astray, before he gains certainty of it.



"I got myself a bit dirty," he says to Dajeong, and yet it attests to a pure soul how he is unable to kiss the girl while lying about love. Fitting for a melodrama, he formulates his own feelings in monologues, whose listener is always his brother – although Bokgu thinks his words do not reach him. After the fatal mistake, Bokgu transforms again, becoming walking silent pain and penance, although he hides this again behind an indifferent exterior. He can now only break through his armor with the alcohol-fumed singing of karaoke; his true, hidden feelings speak in the songs. But even so, he can provide support to Mingu, Eunsuk, and Dajeong as well. His double romantic unhappiness (the undertaken relationship with Dajeong, whom he does not love, and the rejected relationship with Eunsuk, who is his true love) is his own penitence, but occasionally he is still unable to hide his anger and despair due to the cruelty of fate, as we can see in the lonely basketball-playing scene as well. Jung Ji-hoon brings Bokgu to life so completely that his own being disappears behind the character, or we could also say that he is completely dissolved in it. Therefore, Kang Bokgu remains in our memory in his own right, as if he were not a film character but a real person. He travels a very long way in the drama: primarily he learns to truly love, to struggle and to renounce, as well as to take account of the shadows of his life in a mature way. His fate and decision are fatal, but we will remember him as a true tragic hero.




Cha Eunsuk (Shin Min-A)

Like Bokgu, Eunsuk also goes through her own hell. From a brilliant actress, she becomes in one stroke an unworthily deceived lover, who almost at the same time becomes the plaything of a rich man. She cannot suspect that she is threatened by the greatest danger precisely from the person whom she would like to cling to – emotionally extorted, at her emotional low point – and believe that someone finally turns toward her with honest feelings. Shin Min-A can be brilliant in the role of the adored star, with her impudence she is capable of pinning the pushing chaebol heir against the wall, and with her innocence she can enchant Bokgu, who harbors hatred towards her. Her charm loses nothing in states of drunkenness or emotional dilapidation, nor in the conditions of psychological illnesses arising in their wake. Although considering her appearance we would think of her rather as an ingénue, the drama nevertheless cast her in a peculiar 'femme fatale' role, as she unintentionally ruins the lives of three men. Despite the fact that she completely lacks the characteristics of a vamp, this ability of hers is still believable. Eunsuk also does penance towards Mingu and is emotionally crippled by the barren love felt for Bokgu. Among the infinitely much crying, however, her being can shine in the happy moments of love. The spiritual maturation of the character happens precisely in the different relationships experienced with the three men, as a result of which Eunsuk is capable of appreciating Bokgu's cruel decision, and even of asking forgiveness from Dajeong, who had even harmed her. Although Shin Min-A plays with perhaps a few more clichés, the Eunsuk shaped by her is a worthy partner to Jung Ji-hoon's bitter Bokgu.



Kim Joonsung (Lee Ki-woo)

The chaebol heir is initially the most unsympathetic figure of the drama, whose every step after the scandal is pure baseness. He has no idea about life or about love, and when thumping his chest he claims that he already feels love, it is impossible to believe him. At one point in the drama, he says the following to Bokgu:

"A man's existence is justified in a woman's life if he is capable of doing something for his woman. I can make Cha Eunsuk even better than she is now. I think that's where a man's place is."
We could give this a romantic interpretation as well, but still, looking down on the other radiates from it just as much as the objectification of the woman. Joonsung, however, is not unfathomably evil, only his teachers were bad. His first shock occurs when he realizes that he also has personal responsibility in the shaping of Mingu's, and consequently Bokgu's fate. It is to be appreciated that he is capable of asking for forgiveness and withdrawing from Eunsuk's life. I am not convinced that he ever feels true love for Eunsuk, but it is certain that the attraction of elemental force, unknown to him, between Bokgu and Eunsuk fascinates him and also awakens desire in him. However, he is capable of recognizing his limitations, and even of being of help not only to the girl but also to Bokgu, who not only simply grows above him but also earns his wonder. Despite Lee Ki-woo's harmless-looking, smooth-faced appearance, he can show the disgusting and enraged faces of the man just as much as his nobler character traits.



Han Dajeong (Kim Sa-rang)

Dajeong is not an easy character either. Irritatingly unbearable, constantly quarreling, acting out of passion, whose strength is not deliberation. In her work she works with base tools, which she unscrupulously deploys in the case of extorting Eunsuk as well. Still, she is the fixed point for Bokgu, the warmth of home, where there is always food and one can take shelter. Dajeong also has an innocent being, and she has deeper feelings for Bokgu, but these are associated with her own uncertainty, therefore she does not let the man go. She plays at believing Bokgu, and goes to the ultimate lengths for his appropriation. Since she is on the wrong path, she is constantly shamed, and only lets the man go when she is already completely helpless against him. Kim Sa-rang can make the pretty girl both infinitely unsympathetic and innocently suffering, simultaneously showing those opposing forces which in the girl pull Bokgu down or lift him up.



Kang Mingu (Kim Young-jae)

He is one of those rare characters who influences the whole of a drama while physically hardly participating in the visible events. We find out essential things about Mingu mainly from his diary and others' recollections. The actor playing the man lying in a coma during a large part of the events in the cinematic reality gets acting opportunities in these flashbacks until the 11th episode. The image of a likable, well-meaning young man living somewhat in a dream world emerges, who unselfishly helps the family of his love. At the same time, he is incapable of fighting; he simply does not even struggle for his love, in contrast to Eunsuk, who persistently searches for him. Despite the suicide committed out of sorrow, in reality, through his inactivity, he became unworthy of Eunsuk's love, which calls into question the correctness of his life philosophy, which also led to the breakup with his brother. After abandoning Bokgu, he is consistent in keeping his distance, yet he is filled with joy by the meeting with his brother again. After waking from the coma, the abyss stretched between his internal, perfect sensory capability and his hindered expressive possibilities is moving. This is why he becomes the most tortured character of the drama, who cannot help the people he loves through their torment. His last will draws honestly from his good intentions, but as in their youth, at this time too he does not understand his brother's mental functioning, therefore he misses the solution, thereby setting Bokgu on a forced path. Kim Young-jae provided an exceptional acting performance already in the state of being in a coma with the unconscious limpness of his body, with which he surrendered himself to Bokgu's care. After waking up, he was able to convey the stages of physical regeneration, always fitting the emotional expressions to the given abilities. One cannot forget that desperate struggle that he showed with his crying, with his hysterical outbursts, to make himself understood by his environment. With incredible facial expressions and gestures, he tried to break through the wall of incomprehension, while in moments of joy he could become relaxed even in this limitation.



Supporting Characters

Many supporting characters of the series are one-dimensional figures who have a role in filling out the story. Such are the figures found around Joonsung, including the father with a dominating tendency, who is constantly angry (Lee Soon-jae), or the girl-type personal secretary appearing beside Eunsuk (Kang Rae-yeon), who on the other hand is a sunny character. The boxing companions beside Bokgu are not very detailed either; however, many times they speak instead of the silent Bokgu, thereby passing on important information. At the same time, they fill the role of the comic figures of the series as well, smuggling humor into the not too cheerful drama with their repartee and awkwardness.

Detailed characterization is given to the following:

Misook (Kim Dae-jin), who is Bokgu's friend and is hopelessly in love with Dajeong. The dandyish, constantly wailing, dependent figure is Bokgu's most loyal henchman, who deeply experiences Bokgu's and Dajeong's feelings, loudly but still tactfully withdrawing into the background.

Eunsuk's stepmother (Yoo Hye-ri) is an infinitely affected, hypocritical, and ambitious woman, who is not held in much regard by her children either, yet in the end all her sins are forgiven at the price of shedding a few crocodile tears, who knows why. This is not understandable even if she says she is ashamed of her actions.

Eunsuk's father (Park In-hwan), who is a worthy partner to the stepmother. A weak-willed figure who does not dare to confront anyone, even though he sees correctly what is happening. Whether it can be attributed to the artificial writing of the character or to the stepmother's unsympathetic nature is difficult to decide, but this father's theatrical pleading is not authentic either, with which in reality he plunges his daughter into the claws of the chaebol boy.

Relationships Between the Characters

Melodrama is naturally built on romantic relationships, from which this time we get a more complicated structure than average. The different love triangles simultaneously form the special extra layer of the drama, since every triangle represents a different type of romantic relationship. If we assume that despite the revenge, an equal emotion flowing with identical force towards each other is born between Bokgu and Eunsuk, then compared to this, all the other relationships are characterized by some kind of error.

The first triangle can be drawn in the trinity of Mingu – Eunsuk – Bokgu. The two brothers, even if not obviously, compete with each other. Both Mingu and Eunsuk's, and Bokgu and Eunsuk's relationship is in fact two-phased. We could see that in the first stage, the former pair did not struggle for each other with equal strength. Mingu's error was that he confused love with self-sacrifice, and with this he condemned Eunsuk to helplessness, running their relationship aground. Bokgu and Eunsuk's relationship was built on a lie, which would have been difficult to continue even without the revenge. In the second stage, penance and remorse dominate Mingu and Eunsuk's relationship, from which the old romantic feeling cannot be reborn, while Bokgu and Eunsuk try to freeze their feelings, which leads to self-destruction. Under such circumstances, Bokgu and Mingu cannot honestly reconcile with each other.

Members of the second triangle: Eunsuk – Bokgu – Joonsung. In this triangle, the rivalry of the two men takes place, which from the initial contempt, through humiliation and fistfights, eventually leads to a compromise in which the men can respect each other. Joonsung's feeling thought to be love is again an error, because he confuses the desire for possession with true love, thereby bringing Eunsuk into a subordinate and vulnerable position.

The third triangle is formed between Bokgu – Dajeong – Eunsuk. Both Dajeong and Eunsuk sin against each other, and at the appropriate points of the story, both apply to each other for forgiveness. Although Dajeong is aware that her feelings towards Bokgu are one-sided, she still clings to the man with tooth and nail. In reality, she manipulates him with emotional blackmail, constantly appealing to Bokgu's self-sacrifice stemming from pity and gratitude. A dialogue between Dajeong and Misook is noteworthy, which reveals awareness, which is a sin for which absolution can hardly be given – although in the drama Dajeong gets away with it on the part of the creators with the appreciation of her final insight:

Dajeong: Do you know what it is that we should never let happen? Letting our love pity us. Not letting them love us, but letting them pity us.
Misook: Doesn't Bokgu feel the same way about you?
Dajeong: Yes. It's the same situation with him.

Dramatic Errors, Transgressions, and Tragic Turns

The story of ALTK is repeatedly influenced by ambiguous or misinterpreted situations that steer the characters' paths in the wrong direction. Highlighting a few of these:

Doctors discover that Mingu, previously thought to be brain-dead, shows emotional reactions upon seeing a photograph of his love; Bokgu, therefore, tracks down the girl's address and, posing as Mingu, holds a conversation with Eunsuk's stepmother. He realizes that his self-sacrificing brother was made to promise not to stand in the way of Eunsuk's unfolding success, and despite all his true feelings, he kept this promise. However, he does not suspect, just as Mingu could not have known, that all this happened against the girl's knowledge and will, purely as a private action of the ambitious stepmother. Therefore, Bokgu thinks that his brother was simply crushed due to the girl's hunger for success, so he vows to take revenge on the girl, humiliating her to the ground just as they did to his brother.

Thus, this moment reinforces Bokgu's dramatic error, which leads to a faulty decision.


Since the costs of Mingu's hospital treatment impose a massive burden on Bokgu, who even comes into contact with the underworld to provide coverage, Dajeong devises a plan to blackmail Eunsuk's family by making public the photos shared with Mingu, found in Mingu's apartment. Eunsuk's stepmother conflates this with Bokgu's earlier visit—whom she believed to be Mingu—claiming that the man had already demanded money back then. Eunsuk goes to the meeting and pays the blackmailers, where she believes that beside Dajeong she met Mingu's younger brother, as Misook, participating in the action, poses as Bokgu. Bokgu accompanies the girl to the meeting as a bodyguard, while waiting in the car, he has no idea exactly whom Eunsuk is meeting and why.

The consequence of the situation is Eunsuk's dramatic error, as she believes the blackmail is happening according to Mingu's will. Because of the lie, no suspicion arises in her later regarding the identity of her bodyguard either.


Bokgu finds his brother's phone and ventures to call Eunsuk from it, who thus thinks she is talking to Mingu. Naturally, she has no idea what happened to her former love, and since no one speaks into the phone, she begins to berate Mingu, because after the blackmail she thinks the man wants to ask for money from her again. Bokgu, listening to her, however, receives confirmation that what he thinks about what happened to his brother is correct.

The bad idea of the phone call again contributes with a dramatic error to the reinforcement of the justification of revenge for Bokgu.


Before Bokgu takes the first step of his revenge, he asks Eunsuk to speak about her former great love. The girl replies that she has already forgotten the man. Behind the answer is her disappointment felt because of Mingu, whom she believes to be a traitor, yet Bokgu can only interpret it as proof of the girl's fickleness.

This dramatic error is the final push for Bokgu's revenge.


While the examples above present unintentionally committed human mistakes, the dramatic turns are elements that the characters are not in a position to influence. The first great and fatal turn of ALTK is combined with dramatic errors:

Bokgu's brother is unexpectedly found; he is not at home when Bokgu first visits his apartment, which is papered with pictures of the actress Cha Eunsuk. Since only the shared photo of the brothers is turned face down, Bokgu mistakenly thinks that there is no longer a place for him in his brother's heart. He leaves disappointed, not even wanting to see Mingu anymore, who nevertheless seeks him out later. The ice is just about to break between the two brothers when Mingu learns from the giant screen opposite that his former love has become engaged to someone else, and without a word, he throws himself off the roof terrace where they were talking with Bokgu. He does not die but, suffering severe brain damage, becomes incapable of speech and movement. Bokgu is completely shocked by the case because he feels that his brother has abandoned him for a second time, but he can only express his feelings in aggressive impulses. For him at this time, it is still unimaginable that one can harbor fatal emotions for a woman, therefore he denies their brotherly relationship. The dramatic turn fatally influences the relationship of the brothers and the fate of both of them.

The greatest turning point of the drama is formed by Mingu's awakening from the coma, which creates new conditions in the relationship of the two brothers and Eunsuk, accelerating events in the rush toward the tragic end.

And the dramatic transgression that Bokgu commits is the revenge itself, as well as the forbidden love awakening during it, with which he harms his brother, Eunsuk, and himself as well, challenging the wrath of fate against him.

Style Elements of the Cinematic Realization

I have already mentioned the montaging of images of parallel events, which bring both mystery and poetry into the drama at the same time.


Instead of words, many times images composed to music tell long stories from which we can gain various types of information. The most beautiful example of this is the scene in which we get to know the beginning of Bokgu and Dajeong's relationship, and we can also form a picture of the girl's emotions. The arguing couple rides home on a motorcycle, Bokgu's rigid gaze fixed on the road. Through the images of the racing, the fire fades in, the unconscious Bokgu, whom the girl drags out from under the falling, burning beams. Bokgu's hand grips the motorcycle's handlebar tightly. The wind blows the scarf from Dajeong's neck, and the burn marks appear. The girl gently leans her head on Bokgu's back, her arms tightly embrace the boy, pressing the man to herself with her hands convulsively clasped.


Beside the repetition of highlighted elements, several wandering motifs also serve the inner rhythm of the drama. Beside the play of hands, the childhood melody also accompanies the first part of the drama, which can be heard in several versions at different points of the events, depending on whether it sounds as a flash of childhood memory, in Bokgu's live humming, or as one of the imprints of Eunsuk's love. The little song creates a hidden connection between the three people, and ultimately turns into the deepest thrust dagger of Bokgu's revenge.

Likewise, the necklace circulating between the brothers and Eunsuk is a wandering motif of similar symbolic power, which Mingu gives as a protective amulet to Eunsuk, who ties it to the wrist of the injured Bokgu. Bokgu, upon the denial of his love, gives it back to Eunsuk; we finally see the chain falling from Eunsuk into the snow, thereby making its protective function impossible.

The sight of giant screens constantly floating into the frame has a slightly different role, on which Eunsuk always appears, through whichever character's eyes we look at them. This solution is in connection with Eunsuk's previously mentioned latent femme fatale role.

The Music of the Series

Since in melodramas the music becomes an integral element of the plot, in ALTK too we can see in many places that images tell the events accompanied by dominantly sounding, full musical tracks. The mental states of the characters are expressed by sometimes lyrical, sometimes dramatic music, which may not only be musical accompaniment but also independent insert songs, the lyrics of which speak independently about the feelings of the characters. Fitting for the heightened emotions, part of the basic music evokes the dramatic sound of passionate tangos, although we can also hear a spirited orchestral waltz, while the expression of softer emotions or moods happens with painfully lyrical compositions, which fortunately in this drama become neither bombastic nor sentimental. In fact, there are few scenes under which some kind of music does not play.

The childhood song has already been mentioned; however, the beauty of the versions must be highlighted, which applies equally to the acapella performance in a child's or adult's voice, the canon of both rising with musical accompaniment, or the instrumental version.

It is well known that the protagonist Jung Ji-hoon, that is Rain, is a quality singer, therefore the way he sings in different ways as Bokgu in the drama deserves special attention. Each of these is a production that intentionally appears amateur; they sound exactly as an untrained-voiced person would burst into song in their joy or sorrow. Bokgu hums many times, improvising a humorous little song for the glorification of Dajeong. However, despite the cheerfulness, these moments speak much more about Bokgu's lethargic loneliness.

Twice we are in a noraebang, known more commonly among us as karaoke. On both occasions—already heavily intoxicated—Bokgu sings well-known Korean hits. The first is Im Jae-bum's grand rock ballad, Confession. Bokgu softens this into an intimate confession, finally pouring out his feelings, which we never hear from him formulated into words. The second occasion already happens at a spiritual low point accompanied by physical degradation, where he babbles Shim Soo-bong's hit Hate You bone-drunk, but with unforgettable pain.



The Monologues

Although we can hear text parts from Eunsuk and Mingu too that are similar to a monologue, real monologues are spoken by Bokgu when he talks to his brother at his hospital bed, or at the location of his brother's funeral service. These monologues are not only musically accompanied but are texts rich in rhythmic and tonal nuances that create the sensation of independent musical works. It is no coincidence that they also appear on the album containing the musical material of the drama. Each is of exceptional beauty, a unique acting performance. Bokgu's telephone entertainments could also be interpreted as monologues, which he improvises for Mingu, although these are less uniform, much more playful texts.



The Tragedy of the Drama – Is It Catharsis That We Experience?

Even in ancient Greek tragedies, there are sinful loves in which the lovers' desires for each other collide with social taboos, thereby making the unfolding of the attraction impossible. This motif plays a peculiar role in the tragic outcome of ALTK. Since there may be differences in interpretation depending on the viewpoint of which culture we observe the story from, I will rely only on what is stated within the drama.

When the jealous Dajeong wants to prevent the relationship between Bokgu and Eunsuk at all costs and therefore calls Joonsung, she refers in the conversation to the fact that nothing can happen between the lovers because they count as relatives, and at this time she uses the expression "forbidden relationship." This scene supports Bokgu’s consistent adherence to his decision, according to which he cannot enter into a relationship with Eunsuk. At the same time, toward the end of the drama, Dajeong’s opinion shifts: by then she says there is no moral obstacle to the lovers' union, since no marriage took place between Mingu and Eunsuk. Thus, the question remains open as to whether a social taboo causes the tragedy of the love.

One could argue that the fact of the revenge is the primary obstacle to their relationship, since with it Bokgu sinned against both his brother and their shared love. However, he received forgiveness from both parties, which released him from the transgression. Then why does Bokgu still stubbornly protest against a life together with the girl? Would his unceasing sense of shame be sufficient reason for this?

I believe that the explanation for Bokgu’s true tragedy must be sought in the deeper recesses of the soul. Perhaps precisely in the relationship between the two brothers, especially in the ambivalent bond tying Bokgu to his older brother. "His big brother is his father and his mother, his god and his heaven," Dajeong says of Bokgu, and indeed, we saw that as a child, Mingu replaced the entire family for him. As a result of the conflict erupting between the two boys, after the mother who left the family and the abusive father, the idolized brother also disappears from Bokgu’s life. The constant lack of love and these events explain why Bokgu’s distorted self-esteem developed, as a result of which he thinks he is not worthy of anyone’s love. Rooted in the same thing is why he settles for a relationship lacking true emotional bonding—one that actually poisons his soul—and for the maintenance of which he repeatedly makes compromises, as if terrified that he might lose even this. The story begins with Bokgu renouncing his true love for the sake of this relationship, and then he does the same with the fatal love.

His relationship with his brother, however, is more complex than this. The ambivalence is perceptible in that although he persistently searches for Mingu, he nevertheless becomes angry at him even before their first meeting (when he sees the single turned-down photo depicting the two of them). The same thing happens in the hospital, multiple times, when he denies his brother, whose suicide attempt he initially automatically interprets as a flight from him—thus, another abandonment, a betrayal.

There are, however, rebellious feelings as well, with which he turns against his brother. He does not let his brother direct his life; therefore, he clings to his own philosophy of life, even if it leads to their breakup. In his independent life, however, there is a constant feeling of guilt and a desire to regain his brother's love; therefore, he lets himself be beaten by his opponents during matches.

This intricate psychological complexity provides the full explanation for why he resists his brother’s last will, which could be the key to his own happiness, since Eunsuk is open to starting their life together. The prohibition which forms a barrier to happiness within Bokgu is, therefore, not to be sought in social taboos, but on one hand in a moral taboo due to the multiple transgressions against his brother, and as the strongest motif, in the defiance through which Bokgu’s final resistance is expressed against his brother's will determining his life, dominating it and forcing his own personality into final self-surrender.

In light of the above, it can be stated that ALTK is a melodrama in which the errors leading toward destiny—which form the driving forces of classical tragedies—as well as the turns unavoidable by individuals, are combined with a deep-psychological code system, which likewise become determining factors of the protagonist's fate.

What can we answer to the question of whether it is true catharsis that we experience at the end of this melodrama? Let us review the classical definition of catharsis triggered by literary works: "fulfillment; emotional, moral purification that takes place in the soul of the viewer, reader, or protagonist under the influence of a staggering event or tragedy." [source] Let us add to this the question from the beginning of the post: does Bokgu actively struggle against his fate?

We could see that in the unfolding of Bokgu and Eunsuk’s story, both tragic errors and fatal turns played an important role. Although the key to the tragedy partly lies in Bokgu’s personality, I still see that Bokgu tries to do everything to prevent the tragedy, the danger of which he feels with all his senses. These are peculiarly inverse actions, which manifest primarily in flight and renunciation. Bokgu does everything to distance the girl from himself; perhaps he even believes that he can live a full life without her. And fate strikes at this point: it is also a sin if a person condemns themselves and another person to unhappiness.

Our profound shock is likely triggered by that dual feeling in which, on one hand, we deeply empathize with the lovers and pity them, while recognizing that their fate cannot be attributed exclusively to their own fault or to the account of destiny. Family and social relations also play deeply into it, as well as those human transgressions that we often commit against each other in the certain knowledge of our love. And our realization of these—what else would it be but true catharsis?