GU FAMILY BOOK (2013)

구가의 서
MBC / 2013 / 24 episodes
Genre: drama
Written by Kang Eun-kyeong
Directed by Kim Jeong-hyeon, Sin Woo-cheol
More information: Wikipedia / HanCinema

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

* Warning: This post contains spoilers! *

Gu Family Book:
The Deity and the Rogue

Is there anyone who doesn’t love a fairy tale for adults? Here we find a magical story where humans behave like monsters, and monsters long to become human.

Gu Family Book is a fantasy drama that, while featuring mystical characters, embeds one of its threads into an imaginary chapter of Korean history. It invokes the real historical hero, Admiral Yi Sun-shin, around whom the struggle of covert organizations is arranged. At stake is the construction of the famous Turtle Ship, for which supporters secretly gather the necessary wealth, while their opponents do not shrink from selling out the country by collaborating with the Japanese enemy.

However, strange as it may seem, this plot is merely a pretext for the series' much more interesting central theme. The love story of the mythical deity that opens the drama is breathtaking, both in its beauty and its cruelty. The story of the half-human, half-gumiho Choi Kang-chi (Lee Seung-gi) is embedded within the history of his father, Gu Wol-ryung (Choi Jin-hyuk). The love, fate, and choices of father and son reflect one another.

Once upon a time... In the Moonlight Garden of the rugged Jiri Mountains, inaccessible to humans, lived the guardian deity of the mountain, Gu Wol-ryung, who alternated his attractive human form with the monster dwelling within him. The lonely gumiho had observed the world of humans for a thousand years but never interfered in their lives. But once, his heart spoke upon seeing a beautiful girl, Yoon Seo-hwa, and he could not resist helping her in her distress. A deep love blossomed between them, and Wol-ryung surrounded the girl with fabulous magic in his Edenic domain, wishing for nothing more than to leave his unknown monster-self behind and live as a human. The Gu Family Book contained the description of a severe ordeal, by completing which he could hope for transformation. Wol-ryung steadfastly fulfilled the tasks, but shortly before completion, he had to choose: reveal his true nature to save the girl's life, or fulfill his mission but lose his love. Wol-ryung transformed into a bloodthirsty gumiho, from whom the girl not only fled in terror and loathing but also called upon his pursuers, who mortally wounded the god-man. Thus, Wol-ryung lost the chance to become human forever and, as punishment, was transformed for another thousand years into a mindless, killing demon that feeds on human souls. He could escape his terrible fate in only two ways: if Seo-hwa could still love him while seeing him as a monster, or if Wol-ryung pierced the heart of the girl who denied their love with a magic dagger. But neither occurs.

Seo-hwa discovered with horror that she was pregnant with Wol-ryung’s child. She first wants to destroy the newborn boy, but then, hoping that he might not have inherited his father's monstrous nature, she leaves him alive. Enemies of her former family mortally wound the woman, and Wol-ryung’s monk friend leaves the boy to his fate, setting him adrift in a small basket on the waves of the river.

Twenty years later, we meet Kang-chi again, whom the head of his adoptive noble family, Park Moo-sol, regards as his own lucky charm based on the monk's prophecy. To ensure his luck doesn't leave him, he must raise the boy as his own until he is twenty; however, his wife drives the boy away when she realizes that tender feelings are awakening between Kang-chi and their daughter. The family's fate immediately turns for the worse, and almost exactly everything that happened to Kang-chi's mother's family repeats itself. To seize the estate hiding fabulous wealth, the head of the family is killed, his wife and son are imprisoned, and their daughter is sold as a kisaeng.

Kang-chi is taken under the wing of Admiral Yi Sun-shin, who hides the boy from his enemies in Dam Pyeong-joon’s martial arts school. However, mysterious murders occur in the surrounding forests, and Kang-chi is suspected, as the bracelet he always wore to prevent his transformation into a gumiho was once accidentally cut from his arm. The boy then learns of his true nature and the secret of his origin from the monk, also hearing about the Gu Family Book. But his heart is full of hatred for his parents who abandoned him.

Love blossoms between Master Dam's daughter and Kang-chi, shadowed by a prophecy: if they do not flee from each other, one of them will die. Since Kang-chi is a demi-god, the real danger lurks for the girl, Dam Yeo-wool (Bae Suzy). However, Yeo-wool has a strange effect on the boy; she is the only one who can keep Kang-chi’s transformation into a monster in check. The boy slowly discovers for himself how to master his transformation. But there is one thing he does not know: that Master Dam was his father's killer.

The main villain, Jo Gwang-woon (Lee Sung-jae), gains increasing power. His greed is boundless, and he is about to make a pact with a Japanese delegation whose leader is a mysterious lady. Meanwhile, Wol-ryung, revived as a thousand-year-old demon, begins a frenzied destruction.

Kang-chi faces the same dilemma his father once did: if he wants to win his love, he must become human. However, he is also aware that if he does so, he will be unable to save the girl, so he might be making a pointless sacrifice. It also becomes clear to everyone that Kang-chi is the only one capable of killing Wol-ryung.

The drama provides an answer to the question, and we also learn whether redemption will come for Wol-ryung. We also discover through what cooperation and at what sacrifice Admiral Yi Sun-shin's grand plan is brought to fruition.

However, this wondrous story was only partially successfully brought to the screen, and the obstacle was not solely the tight budget typical of series. There is a surprising difference in the cinematic storytelling of Wol-ryung’s and Kang-chi’s histories. Wol-ryung’s story is tight, rich in magical visuals, and the backdrops of the deity's world are realized with incredible ingenuity. These visuals are not expensively executed, but they are simple and rich in imagination. It feels as if they were directed by someone other than the rest of the drama; even the music is different, sometimes sounding with an angelic voice (My Eden), sometimes with somber tension.

At the same time, the telling of Kang-chi’s story is characterized by the clichés of historical dramas, and in an exaggerated way. The rhythm of actions and reactions between characters becomes unnatural, following each other like a performance by a student drama club: everyone stands around awkwardly, waiting for the other to finish their speech before starting their own. During action scenes, the fighters lower their swords and peacefully wait for the opponent’s tactical discussion to conclude. If someone says something referring back to previous events, the scene is repeated for us, just in case we’ve forgotten. If we are meant to be shocked, the shocked expressions of all the characters in the scene are pushed into our faces one by one—if there are eight of them, then eight times. If emotion or tension is generated between two characters, we watch for an agonizingly long time as the characters stare at each other while unbearably pompous music plays.

The static use of cameras is completely incomprehensible; the price of this is that they cannot contribute to enhancing the acting performances through any visual means, neither in combat scenes nor where it is even more needed: in making the monsters truly terrifying.

Therefore, the transformations of Kang-chi, who has a boyish and mischievous personality, cannot become truly frightening; his gumiho is a kitten compared to Wol-ryung’s. Yet Lee Seung-gi's performance leaves nothing to be desired; he is an enjoyable, playful rogue, a sweet lover who is also determined and heroic when necessary. However, at one point in the drama, he says to his father, "You are talking like a real divine being now"—and with this, he expresses the exact difference between the two of them. Choi Jin-hyuk, in the role of Wol-ryung, is a noble being in every fiber, a large-scale figure with a divine aura. He is a devoted lover in a non-worldly way, and terrifyingly demonic in a non-worldly way. His smile shines as warmly as his empty-souled demonic face is icily emotionless. The actor’s extremely deep voice was easily turned blood-curdling with a few effects, and the right sound effects were found. Yet Choi Jin-hyuk can convey the enervated sadness of timeless loneliness even through the void of the monster who doesn't remember himself, which makes Wol-ryung so memorable. And the sequences evoking Romeo and Juliet, or rather Philemon and Baucis, grant him such a beautiful death as perhaps a monster has never died in all of time. And let me not forget to mention that Choi Jin-hyuk showed us the first male gumiho, as it had traditionally been a female character until then.

The visual world of the drama compensates for the aforementioned cinematic shortcomings. The costume designers and stylists did a magnificent job. Beautiful costumes and rustling silks are everywhere, and special mention must be made of the hairstyling masterpieces worn by the kisaengs, often completely reimagining traditional braids. The landscapes and lavish interiors of the drama, set in many different locations, are also a sight to behold.

The acting performances are too numerous to list, but the great portrayals of the female characters must be highlighted: the boyish yet femininely romantic Bae Suzy, the fragile and delicate but revenge-thirsty Lee Yoo-bi, Yoon Se-ah, capable of multiple emotional transformations, and the strict, authority-radiating kisaeng, Yoon Hye-young. The male characters are generally all strong and well-crafted, though for me, two leading figures seemed weaker than necessary: Yoo Dong-geun in the role of Admiral Yi Sun-shin, and Jo Sung-ha, whom I otherwise like very much. His Master Dam became a confusing figure whose character traits showed no consistency.

The music has already been mentioned, but it must be highlighted that the instrumental music consists almost without exception of great, expressive compositions. Most of the insert songs are indeed overflowingly emotional, but it is noteworthy that three protagonists—Choi Jin-hyuk, Bae Suzy, and Lee Seung-gi—all sing, and not just in any way, considering they are professional singers. The acting performances of all three were recognized with several awards, and for Choi Jin-hyuk, the role of Wol-ryung brought further leading roles.

With all its flaws, Gu Family Book is a special drama that echoes in one’s soul for days. And the source material is so good that a technically souped-up version with more exciting direction could be made. Of course, with much more divine Wol-ryung in Choi Jin-hyuk's divine performance, and I would gladly keep Lee Seung-gi too.

As for the contemporary ending that destroys all the magic of the drama, I would impose a severe punishment on the creators.

YOU ARE MY DESTINY (2014)

운명처럼 널 사랑해
MBC / 2014 / 20 episodes
Genre: drama
Written by Jo Jin-gook, Joo Chan-ok
Directed by Kim Hee-won, Lee Dong-yoon
More information: Wikipedia / HanCinema

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

* Warning: This post contains spoilers! *

You Are My Destiny:
The Unvarnished Truth of a Post-it Girl

In truth, I would like to write that this is one of the best Korean dramas I have seen to date, but that would only be a partial truth in several respects. Firstly, because it is an adaptation of the Taiwanese series Fated to Love You, and thus not an "authentic" Korean creation. Secondly, because this claim would only hold true until the end of episode 12—but until that point, it is absolutely one of the best.

While the title You Are My Destiny might promise a typical romantic comedy, the series deals with much more and far more serious matters than conventional love stories, and it does not treat them lightly. Therefore—though it is not devoid of humor—I would call it a drama rather than a rom-com.

Our protagonist, Kim Mi-yeong (Jang Nara), wins a luxury vacation for two at a company party and takes along a colleague with whom she hopes to share her first intimate relationship. However, the duplicitous fellow cheats on her cruelly, humiliating the already insecure Mi-yeong, whom her coworkers treat as a "post-it girl"—a convenient errand-runner.

Our male lead, the cool CEO Lee Gun (Jang Hyuk), is at the same hotel planning to propose to his love. However, the ballerina abandons him yet again for a new role, insolently confident that the man's feelings will endure until the next proposal. Two shady-looking figures are tailing Lee Gun, planning to blackmail him with compromising photos to force him not to close a subcontractor's factory on a small Korean island, which is the sole livelihood of the locals.

They succeed in drugging the man, and the girl accidentally drinks from the same potion; thus, they unexpectedly end up in bed together, where the photos recording their liaison are taken. However, beyond the one-night stand, they both help each other forget their failed experiences, parting as friends.

Their love story begins from here, albeit in an unusual, inverse way. The girl is shocked to discover she is pregnant, but she intends to handle it as a private matter, believing the man to be blameless in what happened.

What follows is a sequence of scenes that would put a Kusturica film to shame, in which the girl, returning home to her family on the island, meets the man who has also arrived there due to the internet blackmail. Upon facing the facts, while the usual forceful interventions of the families occur, the more dominant force in the story is the internal struggle of Mi-yeong and Lee Gun with a situation that will impact their entire lives. Both want to act with integrity, without harming the child conceived unintentionally.

Thus, the accidental pregnancy is followed by a marriage not born of love, in which they must get to know each other while both feeling trapped, and simultaneously prepare for a birth that would require a relationship based on trust.

Lee Gun suffers in solitude, frequently visiting the doctor because he is terrified of the danger of developing Huntington’s disease, a neurodegenerative condition that runs in his family. Beside Mi-yeong, however, an unexpected helper appears: Daniel (Choi Jin-hyuk), who, after some misunderstanding, turns out to be a famous designer. The writers did not allow this handsome young man much room to develop, as Mi-yeong’s feelings for Lee Gun remain too strong even in the worst moments for poor Daniel to step beyond the role of spiritual supporter, no matter how obvious he makes his feelings.

The first phase of the drama is nevertheless fast-paced, because the emotional journey of the man and the woman is a roller coaster, filled with scenes of intimate beauty as much as attempts to break free from their confinement. No true decision is made because fate intervenes with a cruel twist. The disease catches up with the man, and the girl suffers a car accident. The ballerina, Kang Se-ra (Wang Ji-won), arrives, wanting to reclaim Lee Gun. Everything collapses around the couple; for Mi-yeong, no option remains but to flee the wreckage, with Daniel once again rushing to her aid.

Although this is not yet the true end of the story, this first phase is a perfect dramatic whole that leaves a much deeper impression than the complete series supplemented by further episodes. This is due to the fact that there is no trace of the stiffness and artificial behavioral patterns that permeate the vast majority of Korean series. It could perhaps be seen as an experiment: by adopting the unvarnished problem-setting and more natural approaches of the Taiwanese drama, this series openly addresses questions such as premarital physical relationships, deciding the fate of a conceived fetus, preparing for childbirth, deciding which life to save in a life-threatening situation, and the loss of a pregnancy—topics that are not at all common in traditionally prudish Korean romantic dramas.

As we have come to expect, the continuation shows a reversed setup: three years later, Daniel appears as Mi-yeong’s partner. But their relationship is treading water, and Lee Gun’s reappearance interferes with this emotional uncertainty, though he himself does not know what he truly wants. The developments occur through twists more reminiscent of drama clichés, but thanks to the actors, the drama does not become shallow, although it loses significant power compared to the first phase. Through long struggles, we reach the finale, which also answers the fundamental question of the second part: even if we sense a somber end, can we make someone our partner by embracing the beauties offered by the road leading there?

Jang Nara matures into a woman before our eyes in the role of the girl. Initially, she seems so fragile that one would not suspect the immense strength with which she faces increasingly difficult challenges. A thousand feelings alternate within her as a woman in love and as a mother awaiting her child, and she is heart-wrenching even in the tragic moments. She can be both a "gray mouse" and a beautiful woman, capable of dazzling the man sometimes with the warmth of her love, sometimes with her radiance. She is such a strong individual that even a man with a truly difficult, tormented personality can cling to her. Her clumsy words during the prayer scene are among the most moving things a woman could ever say for an unchosen child.

However, the even more amazing character of the drama is Lee Gun, who could hardly be imagined without Jang Hyuk’s performance, which exceeds all imagination. One never knows quite where they stand with this man. His loud outbursts and devilish laughter are often alarming; he uses them liberally, drawing his mannerisms like a curtain before his true feelings. He is a very masculine character, remaining so even in his most emotional minutes as he must battle his own demons. He is fundamentally emotional and well-intentioned, a deeply moral personality who takes responsibility for his actions. His emotional development, his openings and withdrawals, constitute the true engine of the drama, which revs at a high speed throughout. His bombastic opening scene in the shampoo commercial is an outright masterpiece.

It is a bit of a pity that as Daniel, Choi Jin-hyuk is not given sufficient opportunity for fulfillment. The handsome and sympathetic young man never enters a serious rival situation with Lee Gun; nevertheless, I must write that Choi Jin-hyuk shows more of this character than was actually written for him, and he does it all through the radiance of his personality.

Kang Se-ra is an even more sketchily drawn character; Wang Ji-won cannot truly make it believable why she possesses such a fatal influence over Lee Gun as we are led to believe.

Among the supporting figures, the character of the girl's terribly loud and aggressive mother is the most interesting; Song Ok-sook is able to transform her from an initially repulsive personality into a mother figure whose love provides plenty even for the prodigal son, and her relationship with Lee Gun is truly moving. In the role of Chairwoman Wang, who guides the man's fate, Park Won-sook is exactly the kind-hearted noblewoman we have seen her play in her period roles.

THE LAST EMPRESS (2018-2019)

황후의 품격SBS / 2018-2019 / 52 episodes
Genre: drama
Written by Kim Soon-ok
Directed by Joo Dong-min
More information: Wikipedia / HanCinema

You can find the original article in Hungarian here →

The Last Empress:
Revenge and Redemption
in the Modern Empire

Perhaps I have never seen a series where a protagonist was introduced into the story so strangely, and then written out of it even more abruptly and bizarrely, than in The Last Empress.

Since it is known that this highly-rated drama was extended by four additional episodes during its run, I could only assume that the actor playing the bodyguard could no longer fit the extra filming into his schedule. Thus, a solution had to be found for why we wouldn't see him in a fitting manner during the story’s conclusion. Looking it up afterward, my suspicion proved to be correct.

The drama is one of those "2-in-1" series that aims to target fans of both modern and historical dramas simultaneously. Consequently, we see once again that in this fictional story set within contemporary settings, the monarch’s court remains stuck in the world of historical period dramas.

The story begins with a romantic escapade by the Emperor, Lee Hyeok (Shin Sung-rok), that goes horribly wrong, leading to several consequences. First, the traces of a hit-and-run must be covered up, so an alibi is sought for him—and found. The price, however, is steep: he must soon marry Oh Sunny (Jang Nara), a musical actress who doesn't fit into the royal court at all. The "vulgar" but naively honest woman hopes for love from her husband, only to find herself in a love triangle supplemented by a mistress. Furthermore, the accident was witnessed by the victim's son, Na Wang-shik (Choi Jin-hyuk), upon whom the palace's "cleaners" are unleashed. It appears they succeed in disposing of him, but the man survives and, thirsting for revenge, joins the Emperor's guard.

The new Empress and the bodyguard soon become allies, working together to uncover the dark secrets of the palace, all of which lead back to the unscrupulous Dowager Empress, who truly pulls all the strings. The story doesn't differ much from a conventional historical series built on intrigue and internal power struggles; the difference lies mostly in the aesthetics. While the inhabitants of the palace wear hanbok with increasing determination, they now speak to modern media, and sword training alternates with car chases. A hideout that looks like a medieval farm coexists perfectly with the world of fast-food restaurants. This mixture allows for the involvement of many characters from different backgrounds, resulting in an entertaining diversity.

While the plot twists are interesting, the drama's strength lies in the performances of the lead actors. Jang Nara’s Sunny matures before our eyes from a whimsical, somewhat simple-minded actress into a woman who, fueled by disappointment and an innate sense of justice, gathers enough courage to face her numerous evil adversaries.

We see the bodyguard, hidden behind a new identity (Cheon Woo-bin), in two forms. I don’t know what the creators were thinking when they dared to expect us to believe that the straw-haired, impulsive, steel-strong, but somewhat dim-witted "meatball" from the opening scenes (played with great intensity by Tae Hang-ho) bulked up into a handsome, intelligent, model-like figure after about a month and a half of working out.

But this is what happened, and so we saw Choi Jin-hyuk in an action role. Besides holding his own in various combat techniques, he showed the elemental rage he can unleash from within. Although as a bodyguard he is subordinate to the members of the imperial family, he manipulates excellently, and we never doubt that he is a serious romantic rival to Lee Hyeok, against whom his revenge is directed. It is a great pity that he had to leave the stage without finishing his business; this not only prevents the character from reaching fulfillment but also tilts the balance of the drama. Even if his mission is taken over by someone we would least expect, it remains a blunder akin to a Western hero falling off his horse and breaking his neck just before the final duel.

The most psychologically complex character is the Emperor, brought to life by Shin Sung-rok. Treated as a puppet by his mother, the man has learned nothing but how to cling to power, making him capable of assorted cruelties. Like many characters of his type, he has no idea about life outside the palace or normal human emotions. Yet he suffers from his deficiencies, the nature of which he doesn't truly understand, so he constantly errs—hoping for love and friendship from his greatest enemies. His struggling, his aggressiveness alternating with spinelessness, and his eventual realization of his deception evoke pity. Although his gesture of joining the fight for the ultimate truth is heroic, his demise is wretched; he cannot achieve nobility in it, only become somewhat more human. At the same time, the metaphorical scene between mother and son, invoking the sacred cleansing of those heading toward death, is very beautiful. It is an extremely difficult role, but Shin Sung-rok presents it by perfectly crafting every trait of the character.

There are many other noteworthy performances, including high-caliber but one-dimensional villains like the Dowager Empress (Shin Eun-kyung). It is exciting how Lee Elijah oscillates between the extremes of diabolical and human faces in the role of Min Yoo-ra. The performers of smaller roles are too numerous to list, but Yoo Gun stands out as the bodyguard locked in a mental institution.

The drama often attempts to infuse humor, but it is not consistent in this at all. Therefore, the characters mostly break into comedy sporadically, in unjustified situations and moments. This also applies to stylistic breaks, such as comic book drawings appearing during an action scene or movements reminiscent of silent films. Naturally, we laugh at these, but they remain senseless patches in the overall fabric of the drama.

The extension by four episodes was not a fortunate solution either, as the drama completely lost its momentum and struggled to fill the resulting airtime. Despite all its flaws, I highly recommend watching The Last Empress because the emotional tension between the lead trio is one of the most peculiar I have experienced in the dramas I've seen so far, and the acting is simply magnificent.