This review may contain spoilers
Cacophony of Nonsense
MELODY OF SECRETS – REVIEW
A more fitting title for this series would have been “Cacophony of Nonsense.” Good Gods, I thought I’d seen the lowest point of logic with “Dare You to Death” (aka Bore Me to Death). Cops (Joong/Dunk) who are all lovey-dovey and totally fail as cops, while people are being gruesomely killed around them for utterly lame reasons. At least there was the possibility of a clarifying outside perspective with two cops.
Here in “Melody of Secrets,” that was completely missing, and crime mystery or not, I’ve never experienced such nonsensical confusion as here. I’m going to talk about Book and Force now, because it didn’t help that so many characters with partly similar names were involved in the plot. So, after a disjointed, out-of-context intro, we find Book, who lost his memory at the age of 17, and the series picks up TEN years later—meaning we’re dealing with a main character who, for the past 10 years, has known his mother, his grandmother, and absolutely EVERYONE solely based on the assertion that they are who they are. NOTHING in Book’s behavior suggests this. No, he just lets 10 years pass as if memory loss were nothing more than an annoying mosquito bite. Then Force shows up, and immediately they’re in love and in semi-NC scenes—and this is even BEFORE Book’s diary is mailed to him, where he recognizes his own handwriting and learns about all the happy years he spent with Force as a couple. And this is where it gets funny. If he lost his memory AT age 17, but had a romantic relationship with Force FROM age 17 onward, why does he even need a diary from the time AFTER age 17 to remember anything—that is, the last ten years, during which he actually had NO memory loss?
And that’s just one example. So he spends ten years satisfied with not recalling anything. For TEN years, he doesn’t encounter a single person who happened to know him—a guy in a restaurant who served him time and again, friends, classmates—and he himself doesn’t even notice how strange it is that, apart from his family, no one else seems to exist who knew him before, or how strange it is that the family apparently makes no effort whatsoever to reactivate his memory—on the contrary, they are very keen on him NOT remembering. And that’s when it became clear to me where this was probably headed, and I was right in the end. (Endariel Poirot's little gray cells!)
Before I get to that: what follows is a wildly edited string of snippets, jumping from character to character, from event to event, place to place in a way that’s more reminiscent of a roller coaster ride. The author had presumably written the novel backwards, and now all the events have to be crammed in—and as the series progresses, it becomes clear: the author has completely bitten off more than he can chew here. There are so many motifs and plotlines that they completely overwhelm the writer, director, and actors. Inspector Dao’s “subplot” alone is just confusing, and I never really understood her motive until the end, nor the motive behind the main mystery: Book ISN’T at all who he thinks he is. The person he thinks he is died 17 years ago, and his mother and grandmother hypnotize a stranger to believe he is that person. Purpose? Zero. It never really becomes clear what the point of such an action is supposed to be. But it gets even worse, because Force is also neither the person Book ever knew as a real person nor as a fake person, nor were they ever a couple, and yet they jump into bed immediately. Why? To Book, he’s a stranger who merely comes up in a diary, and as we learn at the end: he has no memories or feelings—perhaps instinctive ones—because Force NEVER KNEW Book at any point. And why is Force even playing along?
And here comes the bombshell. Book’s fake persona, which he assumed through hypnosis, was in love with Force’s BROTHER, who—for utterly preposterous reasons—constantly introduced himself using Force’s fake name. By that point, at the very latest, a significant number of my brain cells had died.
I’ll leave it at that, because there’s a whole legion of illogical plot holes that are more reminiscent of a crumbling suburban road than a story.
I’ll leave it at that, because there’s a whole host of illogical plot holes that feel more like a crumbling suburban road than a story.
As for the acting: unfortunately, after “Only Friends,” my impression is confirmed that—forgive me—Force simply isn’t a very good actor. Whether it’s distress or sexual arousal, anger or determination—somehow it all gets lost in the uniform facial expression of tired eyes and raised eyebrows. As for Book, I’d say “Only Friends” shows he can act—I’d call him middle-of-the-road; they make for a pretty nice ship, but nothing that really blows me away. When Inspector Dao acts with more expression than Force in their scenes, it has to be clear: something’s just not right here.
So when the whole mess finally comes to light, I slap my forehead at having witnessed what is arguably the most idiotic collection of plots I can recall, thereby dethroning “Dare You to Death” in my book—a series I had previously dubbed the dumbest BL of all time. The fact that Book and Force decide in the end to start over as a couple using their real personas might be seen as a consolation for BL fans, but I just found it grotesque—because Force and Book exist as a ship, it just has to end this way. Unfortunately, that’s nothing new in BL series. So the love and NC scenes between Force and Book are the only thing that actually carries some value, which they act out decently – if you pull a mask over the immovable face of Force, that is. It was a punishment to watch, an insult to logic and hence I award this series, solely for the nice romance scenes which were good,
2/10
And now I need a strong drink.
A more fitting title for this series would have been “Cacophony of Nonsense.” Good Gods, I thought I’d seen the lowest point of logic with “Dare You to Death” (aka Bore Me to Death). Cops (Joong/Dunk) who are all lovey-dovey and totally fail as cops, while people are being gruesomely killed around them for utterly lame reasons. At least there was the possibility of a clarifying outside perspective with two cops.
Here in “Melody of Secrets,” that was completely missing, and crime mystery or not, I’ve never experienced such nonsensical confusion as here. I’m going to talk about Book and Force now, because it didn’t help that so many characters with partly similar names were involved in the plot. So, after a disjointed, out-of-context intro, we find Book, who lost his memory at the age of 17, and the series picks up TEN years later—meaning we’re dealing with a main character who, for the past 10 years, has known his mother, his grandmother, and absolutely EVERYONE solely based on the assertion that they are who they are. NOTHING in Book’s behavior suggests this. No, he just lets 10 years pass as if memory loss were nothing more than an annoying mosquito bite. Then Force shows up, and immediately they’re in love and in semi-NC scenes—and this is even BEFORE Book’s diary is mailed to him, where he recognizes his own handwriting and learns about all the happy years he spent with Force as a couple. And this is where it gets funny. If he lost his memory AT age 17, but had a romantic relationship with Force FROM age 17 onward, why does he even need a diary from the time AFTER age 17 to remember anything—that is, the last ten years, during which he actually had NO memory loss?
And that’s just one example. So he spends ten years satisfied with not recalling anything. For TEN years, he doesn’t encounter a single person who happened to know him—a guy in a restaurant who served him time and again, friends, classmates—and he himself doesn’t even notice how strange it is that, apart from his family, no one else seems to exist who knew him before, or how strange it is that the family apparently makes no effort whatsoever to reactivate his memory—on the contrary, they are very keen on him NOT remembering. And that’s when it became clear to me where this was probably headed, and I was right in the end. (Endariel Poirot's little gray cells!)
Before I get to that: what follows is a wildly edited string of snippets, jumping from character to character, from event to event, place to place in a way that’s more reminiscent of a roller coaster ride. The author had presumably written the novel backwards, and now all the events have to be crammed in—and as the series progresses, it becomes clear: the author has completely bitten off more than he can chew here. There are so many motifs and plotlines that they completely overwhelm the writer, director, and actors. Inspector Dao’s “subplot” alone is just confusing, and I never really understood her motive until the end, nor the motive behind the main mystery: Book ISN’T at all who he thinks he is. The person he thinks he is died 17 years ago, and his mother and grandmother hypnotize a stranger to believe he is that person. Purpose? Zero. It never really becomes clear what the point of such an action is supposed to be. But it gets even worse, because Force is also neither the person Book ever knew as a real person nor as a fake person, nor were they ever a couple, and yet they jump into bed immediately. Why? To Book, he’s a stranger who merely comes up in a diary, and as we learn at the end: he has no memories or feelings—perhaps instinctive ones—because Force NEVER KNEW Book at any point. And why is Force even playing along?
And here comes the bombshell. Book’s fake persona, which he assumed through hypnosis, was in love with Force’s BROTHER, who—for utterly preposterous reasons—constantly introduced himself using Force’s fake name. By that point, at the very latest, a significant number of my brain cells had died.
I’ll leave it at that, because there’s a whole legion of illogical plot holes that are more reminiscent of a crumbling suburban road than a story.
I’ll leave it at that, because there’s a whole host of illogical plot holes that feel more like a crumbling suburban road than a story.
As for the acting: unfortunately, after “Only Friends,” my impression is confirmed that—forgive me—Force simply isn’t a very good actor. Whether it’s distress or sexual arousal, anger or determination—somehow it all gets lost in the uniform facial expression of tired eyes and raised eyebrows. As for Book, I’d say “Only Friends” shows he can act—I’d call him middle-of-the-road; they make for a pretty nice ship, but nothing that really blows me away. When Inspector Dao acts with more expression than Force in their scenes, it has to be clear: something’s just not right here.
So when the whole mess finally comes to light, I slap my forehead at having witnessed what is arguably the most idiotic collection of plots I can recall, thereby dethroning “Dare You to Death” in my book—a series I had previously dubbed the dumbest BL of all time. The fact that Book and Force decide in the end to start over as a couple using their real personas might be seen as a consolation for BL fans, but I just found it grotesque—because Force and Book exist as a ship, it just has to end this way. Unfortunately, that’s nothing new in BL series. So the love and NC scenes between Force and Book are the only thing that actually carries some value, which they act out decently – if you pull a mask over the immovable face of Force, that is. It was a punishment to watch, an insult to logic and hence I award this series, solely for the nice romance scenes which were good,
2/10
And now I need a strong drink.
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