Can someone talk me out of the feeling of melancholy after the last episode? The strength of this show are the characters: they, amazingly, are consistent, and their actions and interactions actually make sense, despite the ridiculous incidents that compose the plot.
A happy end was implied by the genre and the general tone of the show, and it does end on a positive note. However, if you look at it from a perspective that puts Min Ik at the center, his character loses some important pillars on which he was relying for support:
- the presidency - yes, it is shown that it's a calculated postponement, and he will restate his claim after gaining more experience and insight, yet it feels like suddenly his professional life has a hole previously occupied by a set goal and a great deal of drive; - the office - it's the office of the Media One director, was it necessary to make any changes when there's no change in the position? The uncle's office is vacant; it could have been used instead. It's an abrupt shift in the environment when his type of disability requires more stability in the surroundings; - the red cardigan - its sad fate is like a death of a character. Without it, we are led to believe, his mind can't reconstruct Gal Hee's face, his only anchor in a see of faceless people. He can still recognize her by her gait, height, and shape, but he lost the only face with features - it may have been an artificial compilation, but still a psychological relief when dealing with the severity of his condition; - the hope for a cure - Gal Hee's last words imply that the blood pressure phenomenon makes an occasional appearance, but his condition remains uncured. In a more realistic plot, the lack of a magical cure is a plus. But this show has established itself as built on preposterous situations, why the sudden need for realism?
Anyway, it would be nice to get rid of this sense of vague sadness. Fluffy/frothy stories are meant to boost the mood, right?
On-point review, thank you!. Completely agree - should have ended sooner to maintain consistent quality. The last 4 episodes were so mediocre, it became painful to watch. A pity, because 75% of the series was a joy to follow.
If you find yourself unable to wipe the silly grin off your face after watching Ep. 10, you are not alone. Heaps and heaps of tenderness and passion, so seamless and playful, all seems completely natural.
Fan-service galore, as is to be expected: after all, in an overt bid to satisfy romcom lovers, the show has been piling sizzling moments since Ep. 2. Who cares whether real or imagined, they are generously served, at the right temperature and with the right seasoning. But of course we are gobbling it all up [silly grin spreading again].
One really enjoyable element is the way the show winks at the viewer. While wishing to have video footage of her memory, Deok Mi herself gives the instructions on what to do with the favorite bits: keep replaying them, screen capture them, photoshop them, and create a gif. Giddily, of course.
But how to choose a favorite moment? Abundance of riches. His soft gaze while her feelings are spilling out... the fond and amused stare after the joint attack of falling timber and growling stomach... the knee-buckling sequence of gentle hug to lift her off the table, followed by a kiss that manages to be both soft and hot, ending with a linking of hands to walk out... the enveloping hug during the night tour... the wrist kisses... her delighted expression when taking the initiative... so much more. Everything works, including the corny exchange of coffee orders (we can totally live without this vignette - but why?)
One common reaction is that the kisses are great, but the small side gestures are even more memorable. Similar to the kiss on the cheek in her fantasy, the actual forehead-nose-lips progression echoes the same heady mix of being not only desired, but cherished. Passion is electric, yet tenderness is what melts the heart. The combination of both is like floating on a pink cloud through a sky streaked with fiery colors. He is, indeed, the man of her dreams - and of the viewers' wish fulfillment fantasy. Thank you, romcom fairies, for this most delightful spark of magic.
More things to appreciate in this episode: - The meta-comments. Do you feel like you followed Ryan's process of falling in love, but Deok Mi's remains somewhat blurred? The show tackles it directly, with his point-blank questions boiling down to "When did it start for you?" Or this part that non-Koreans don't really get: how come after becoming a couple, especially in an office romance, the female character continues to address her partner by title? Again, Ryan is the agent for the audience, asking the very straight question [adoring stare in his direction, a-la Dok Mi's special Shi An expression]. - The humor. Aptly bypassing the crass and the childish, the writer gifts us with a series of genuinely amusing nuggets. Two normally work-oriented adults who form an instant alliance to blow off the delivery appointment in favor of... hm... more engaging entertainment - adorable and funny in its almost adolescent fervor. Dok Mi, internally deciding on a fond nickname for Ryan and instantly landing on "lion bastard" - cute and so much in-character; we've seen that in her family expressions of fondness involve teasing and not always gentle exchanges. Sun Joo's sinister intoning of the river and death song, then her declaration "Lock the doors, I'm going to become a widow today!" - priceless. Eun Gi's moment of seriously committing to help Sun Joo drown her sorrows in alcohol - panoramic view of mixed emotions. - Kim Jae Wook. Pretty much self-explanatory. He is so, so good at conveying nuance. - Park Min Young. She could have based an entire career on looking and acting cutesy. To her credit, she uses it sparingly, and calibrates it to her characters. In the context of this show, the cute is applied very deliberately in two distinct modes: (a) fangirl-melty and (b) angry or irritated (stormy eyes, pouty mouth), adding a layer to the comedy. Dok Mi's reactions in the scene where the super-fan intern is lashing on Choi Da In are comedy perfection.
Ah, so many words for one single episode... Greatly satisfying episode, though. Eminently re-watchable.
Taking a moment bask in the golden glow before the heart-wrenching tears Mr. Gold will shed in Ep. 11, according to the preview.
I feel really bad for Eun Gi. I think he is getting a lot of unnecessary hate. He is not doing anything we haven't…
You are so right, he is treated harshly. His preparations to confess--the only suit, the mirror rehearsal, the medal hung as a reminder of greatness--tugged at the heartstrings.
Excellent review of the episode. If I may ask, when was there a "Shoes Are Symbolic" moment? I must have missed…
Sam-I-Am & Mochani Thank you, your comments are super-appreciated! As a newbie to K-drama--been watching for less than a year--I'm not yet in a habit to write opinions on a regular basis. This show is provoking me, though. For some reason, it "tickles the neurons" - despite a fairly trivial story and cliches thrown left, right and center, it draws you in and makes you eager to follow. The two leads are fantastic in generating on-screen chemistry, but this is not enough to hold things together if everything else is mediocre. It's fun to have a closer look at HOW the story is told; I think it's handled very skillfully so far - light done right.
Excellent review of the episode. If I may ask, when was there a "Shoes Are Symbolic" moment? I must have missed…
Sam-I-Am and Amy, thank you for reading! Amy, you are on the right track. The shoes are symbolic, but compared to other shows, it's not in the typical line of obvious Cinderella associations. The sequences are represented through Eun Gi's perspective, and since he is a less liked character, it's easy to filter them out. So far, we have several focus shots: (1) In an earlier episode, as he is leaving Deok Mi's house and is about to put on the sneakers he has kicked off before entering, Eun Gi notices that all that will be left is the pair of high heels in front of the door. They practically scream "single woman living here." He matter of factly leaves his own sneakers to show that there's a man in the house, and goes home in slippers. His shoes next to hers = care. What we learn about him is that he is automatically protective of her, without making any fuss about it, i'.e., good guy. (2) In the episode where Ryan visits the parents, Eun Gi notices Deok Mi's shoes and Ryan's shoes tidily placed next to each other. Both are elegant, polished, neat, and look good together - just like the people walking in them. Ryan's shoes next to Deok Mi's = they match. What we learn about Eun Gi is that he is jealous, and an increasingly angry, active opponent to this coupling, i.e. guy with a dark streak. (3) In the part where Eun Gi buys the ingredients for dinner, and the family of four share a meal, there's a shot of Deok Mi's heels, and Eun Gi's sneakers left at the door. Hers are neatly placed together; his are thrown off carelessly. The contrast between the dainty and the uncouth = they don't match. What we learn about Eun Gi is that while he naturally belongs in the house with this family, he and Deok Mi are not a pair, i.e. he's a guy whose heart is about to be broken.
A sprinkling of thoughts post-Episode 9 [mild spoilers in last paragraph]:
After all the hints, what are the chances that Duk Mi uploaded a photo of Ryan on the Shi An Is My Life site? The odds are in favor. Would be a nicely placed complication.
Speaking of complications, Ep. 10 promises to mix the warm and fuzzy with the mounting obstacles: we have jealous life-long friends, power-play at the gallery, mysteries from the past, and a documentary on fangirling which will strain relationships.
Part of the fun in watching this show is to see how all the predictable elements are strung together in a less predictable style. It's not so much whether clichés will be used, but how many can they plausibly cram together, and still keep the show watchable. So far, so good.
The show unapologetically follows the basic story structure of a romcom, and uses almost the full arsenal of K-tropes. Story structure: (1) dislike / distrust stage; (2) interest-understanding-acceptance-liking-pining stage; (3) complication-resolution-getting together stage; (3A) pause to enjoy the sweet moments between the couple; (4) life blow or a series of complications stage; (5) fight and/or separation; (6) couple reunites and story ends on a feeling of "happily ever after". Stage 3 is unlikely to happen before Episodes 7-10. Time lapse can be inserted anywhere between stages 4-6. We are about to enjoy 3A in Ep. 10, it seems. Hold on tight, and don't blame the writer: logic dictates that s/he is not done playing with our hearts.
Tropes used so far: Getting Soaked in the Rain; Catch Me, I'm Falling; Ridiculous Pretexts to Stand/Sit/Lie Close Together; Hospital Scene; Amusement Park Scene; Head On Shoulder Scene; One Of Us Is Drunk Scene; I Wanna Hold Your Hand; Shoes Are Symbolic; I Trust You /I'm Drawn To You While I'm Sleeping; It's Just My Imagination; I Get To Know and Love Another Side Of You By Reading Your Book/Blog; The Piggyback Carry; Food Is Affection. We can probably live happily without umbrellas, pinky swears, wrist grabs, fireworks, back hugs and kiss-while-tear-is-rolling-down moments, but within the context of this show they won't be as annoying, since it's an expected game to throw them in, and they will appear mixed with events that unfold in rapid succession. So, the imminent Childhood Connection reveal will be easier to swallow, even if it's a recognizable manipulation to move the story along. (Question: Is there going to be a traffic accident, and who will be in it?)
One of the strengths of the writing and directing is the play with the meta level - reality and fiction, and the blurred line between them. It's nicely done, clever without being boastful. Images in paintings and photographs are mirrored in reality (take a look back at the auction in China, as the setup of how this interplay will work throughout the show); real or faked moments are captured on canvass or by the lens, and serve as breadcrumbs leading to either a foreshadowing, a clue, or a red herring.
Since it's implied that the main leads were playground buddies in their childhood, I almost expect that, when all nine Lee Sol paintings are put together at the exhibit in the last episode(s), the soap bubbles will surround a central image of a little girl drawing with chalk on the pavement (opening image in Episode 1) while a little boy stands by her, looking at the distance. Or maybe the children will be holding hands; or maybe the image will show the moment they have let go of each other's hand. Anyway, some kind of play on these motifs. But it's all wishful speculation at this point.
As a side note on the visual arrangements of scenes: the "real kiss" at the end of Ep. 9 is composed to echo the staged lean-in for the fake photos, and the quasi kiss at the end of Ep. 6. The position of Ryan's body at the beginning, hand in pocket, is a replica of the pseudo-paparazzi photoshoot when Jin Joo remarked that he was looking stiff; the camera angle on the position of his left hand cupping Duk Mi's face is exactly the same as it was for the thumb kiss, and leaves a nearly identical visual impression. Well done; obvious, yet subtle.
The pacing is great. So much happens in a single episode. I hope they keep it up.
Let's take a step back and appreciate the fact that we are so emotionally invested in this show! It means that that the actors, the director, the writers, and the crew are doing their job really, really well.
The scenes are beautifully choreographed and lit, especially those of physical closeness between the main leads. No wonder hearts are aflutter. The sound editor is practically a co-creator of the story, heightening the emotional impact not only with well-placed music and sound effects, but with silences as well.
It would be nice to withhold judgment on the writing until after the series end: it's still mid-way through, after all. What now seems like a flaw may turn out to be the best thing about the show, when looked at as a whole. Or vice-versa. In the meantime, each episode keeps us wanting to come back for more, and many of us are in agony from the impatience to see the next installment. Mission accomplished for the writing team, no matter how you slice it. As a bonus, the audience is fangirling over a show about fangirling, which is a nice little reality-fiction pretzel.
Very enjoyable show. The non-obtrusive focus on acceptance and affection between various characters--with or without a romantic undertone--is that subtle, unifying theme that touches the heart. Its warmth is addicting.
If I dare a prediction, I would say that the last scene in the episode 9 preview is cut to seem confrontational, but, following the writer's MO so far, may turn out to be the step towards the real kiss/hug/confession.
The strength of this show are the characters: they, amazingly, are consistent, and their actions and interactions actually make sense, despite the ridiculous incidents that compose the plot.
A happy end was implied by the genre and the general tone of the show, and it does end on a positive note. However, if you look at it from a perspective that puts Min Ik at the center, his character loses some important pillars on which he was relying for support:
- the presidency - yes, it is shown that it's a calculated postponement, and he will restate his claim after gaining more experience and insight, yet it feels like suddenly his professional life has a hole previously occupied by a set goal and a great deal of drive;
- the office - it's the office of the Media One director, was it necessary to make any changes when there's no change in the position? The uncle's office is vacant; it could have been used instead. It's an abrupt shift in the environment when his type of disability requires more stability in the surroundings;
- the red cardigan - its sad fate is like a death of a character. Without it, we are led to believe, his mind can't reconstruct Gal Hee's face, his only anchor in a see of faceless people. He can still recognize her by her gait, height, and shape, but he lost the only face with features - it may have been an artificial compilation, but still a psychological relief when dealing with the severity of his condition;
- the hope for a cure - Gal Hee's last words imply that the blood pressure phenomenon makes an occasional appearance, but his condition remains uncured. In a more realistic plot, the lack of a magical cure is a plus. But this show has established itself as built on preposterous situations, why the sudden need for realism?
Anyway, it would be nice to get rid of this sense of vague sadness. Fluffy/frothy stories are meant to boost the mood, right?
Fan-service galore, as is to be expected: after all, in an overt bid to satisfy romcom lovers, the show has been piling sizzling moments since Ep. 2. Who cares whether real or imagined, they are generously served, at the right temperature and with the right seasoning. But of course we are gobbling it all up [silly grin spreading again].
One really enjoyable element is the way the show winks at the viewer. While wishing to have video footage of her memory, Deok Mi herself gives the instructions on what to do with the favorite bits: keep replaying them, screen capture them, photoshop them, and create a gif. Giddily, of course.
But how to choose a favorite moment? Abundance of riches. His soft gaze while her feelings are spilling out... the fond and amused stare after the joint attack of falling timber and growling stomach... the knee-buckling sequence of gentle hug to lift her off the table, followed by a kiss that manages to be both soft and hot, ending with a linking of hands to walk out... the enveloping hug during the night tour... the wrist kisses... her delighted expression when taking the initiative... so much more. Everything works, including the corny exchange of coffee orders (we can totally live without this vignette - but why?)
One common reaction is that the kisses are great, but the small side gestures are even more memorable. Similar to the kiss on the cheek in her fantasy, the actual forehead-nose-lips progression echoes the same heady mix of being not only desired, but cherished. Passion is electric, yet tenderness is what melts the heart. The combination of both is like floating on a pink cloud through a sky streaked with fiery colors. He is, indeed, the man of her dreams - and of the viewers' wish fulfillment fantasy. Thank you, romcom fairies, for this most delightful spark of magic.
More things to appreciate in this episode:
- The meta-comments. Do you feel like you followed Ryan's process of falling in love, but Deok Mi's remains somewhat blurred? The show tackles it directly, with his point-blank questions boiling down to "When did it start for you?" Or this part that non-Koreans don't really get: how come after becoming a couple, especially in an office romance, the female character continues to address her partner by title? Again, Ryan is the agent for the audience, asking the very straight question [adoring stare in his direction, a-la Dok Mi's special Shi An expression].
- The humor. Aptly bypassing the crass and the childish, the writer gifts us with a series of genuinely amusing nuggets. Two normally work-oriented adults who form an instant alliance to blow off the delivery appointment in favor of... hm... more engaging entertainment - adorable and funny in its almost adolescent fervor. Dok Mi, internally deciding on a fond nickname for Ryan and instantly landing on "lion bastard" - cute and so much in-character; we've seen that in her family expressions of fondness involve teasing and not always gentle exchanges. Sun Joo's sinister intoning of the river and death song, then her declaration "Lock the doors, I'm going to become a widow today!" - priceless. Eun Gi's moment of seriously committing to help Sun Joo drown her sorrows in alcohol - panoramic view of mixed emotions.
- Kim Jae Wook. Pretty much self-explanatory. He is so, so good at conveying nuance.
- Park Min Young. She could have based an entire career on looking and acting cutesy. To her credit, she uses it sparingly, and calibrates it to her characters. In the context of this show, the cute is applied very deliberately in two distinct modes: (a) fangirl-melty and (b) angry or irritated (stormy eyes, pouty mouth), adding a layer to the comedy. Dok Mi's reactions in the scene where the super-fan intern is lashing on Choi Da In are comedy perfection.
Ah, so many words for one single episode... Greatly satisfying episode, though. Eminently re-watchable.
Taking a moment bask in the golden glow before the heart-wrenching tears Mr. Gold will shed in Ep. 11, according to the preview.
After all the hints, what are the chances that Duk Mi uploaded a photo of Ryan on the Shi An Is My Life site? The odds are in favor. Would be a nicely placed complication.
Speaking of complications, Ep. 10 promises to mix the warm and fuzzy with the mounting obstacles: we have jealous life-long friends, power-play at the gallery, mysteries from the past, and a documentary on fangirling which will strain relationships.
Part of the fun in watching this show is to see how all the predictable elements are strung together in a less predictable style. It's not so much whether clichés will be used, but how many can they plausibly cram together, and still keep the show watchable. So far, so good.
The show unapologetically follows the basic story structure of a romcom, and uses almost the full arsenal of K-tropes. Story structure: (1) dislike / distrust stage; (2) interest-understanding-acceptance-liking-pining stage; (3) complication-resolution-getting together stage; (3A) pause to enjoy the sweet moments between the couple; (4) life blow or a series of complications stage; (5) fight and/or separation; (6) couple reunites and story ends on a feeling of "happily ever after". Stage 3 is unlikely to happen before Episodes 7-10. Time lapse can be inserted anywhere between stages 4-6. We are about to enjoy 3A in Ep. 10, it seems. Hold on tight, and don't blame the writer: logic dictates that s/he is not done playing with our hearts.
Tropes used so far: Getting Soaked in the Rain; Catch Me, I'm Falling; Ridiculous Pretexts to Stand/Sit/Lie Close Together; Hospital Scene; Amusement Park Scene; Head On Shoulder Scene; One Of Us Is Drunk Scene; I Wanna Hold Your Hand; Shoes Are Symbolic; I Trust You /I'm Drawn To You While I'm Sleeping; It's Just My Imagination; I Get To Know and Love Another Side Of You By Reading Your Book/Blog; The Piggyback Carry; Food Is Affection. We can probably live happily without umbrellas, pinky swears, wrist grabs, fireworks, back hugs and kiss-while-tear-is-rolling-down moments, but within the context of this show they won't be as annoying, since it's an expected game to throw them in, and they will appear mixed with events that unfold in rapid succession. So, the imminent Childhood Connection reveal will be easier to swallow, even if it's a recognizable manipulation to move the story along. (Question: Is there going to be a traffic accident, and who will be in it?)
One of the strengths of the writing and directing is the play with the meta level - reality and fiction, and the blurred line between them. It's nicely done, clever without being boastful. Images in paintings and photographs are mirrored in reality (take a look back at the auction in China, as the setup of how this interplay will work throughout the show); real or faked moments are captured on canvass or by the lens, and serve as breadcrumbs leading to either a foreshadowing, a clue, or a red herring.
Since it's implied that the main leads were playground buddies in their childhood, I almost expect that, when all nine Lee Sol paintings are put together at the exhibit in the last episode(s), the soap bubbles will surround a central image of a little girl drawing with chalk on the pavement (opening image in Episode 1) while a little boy stands by her, looking at the distance. Or maybe the children will be holding hands; or maybe the image will show the moment they have let go of each other's hand. Anyway, some kind of play on these motifs. But it's all wishful speculation at this point.
As a side note on the visual arrangements of scenes: the "real kiss" at the end of Ep. 9 is composed to echo the staged lean-in for the fake photos, and the quasi kiss at the end of Ep. 6. The position of Ryan's body at the beginning, hand in pocket, is a replica of the pseudo-paparazzi photoshoot when Jin Joo remarked that he was looking stiff; the camera angle on the position of his left hand cupping Duk Mi's face is exactly the same as it was for the thumb kiss, and leaves a nearly identical visual impression. Well done; obvious, yet subtle.
The pacing is great. So much happens in a single episode. I hope they keep it up.
The scenes are beautifully choreographed and lit, especially those of physical closeness between the main leads. No wonder hearts are aflutter. The sound editor is practically a co-creator of the story, heightening the emotional impact not only with well-placed music and sound effects, but with silences as well.
It would be nice to withhold judgment on the writing until after the series end: it's still mid-way through, after all. What now seems like a flaw may turn out to be the best thing about the show, when looked at as a whole. Or vice-versa. In the meantime, each episode keeps us wanting to come back for more, and many of us are in agony from the impatience to see the next installment. Mission accomplished for the writing team, no matter how you slice it. As a bonus, the audience is fangirling over a show about fangirling, which is a nice little reality-fiction pretzel.
Very enjoyable show. The non-obtrusive focus on acceptance and affection between various characters--with or without a romantic undertone--is that subtle, unifying theme that touches the heart. Its warmth is addicting.
If I dare a prediction, I would say that the last scene in the episode 9 preview is cut to seem confrontational, but, following the writer's MO so far, may turn out to be the step towards the real kiss/hug/confession.