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The Story of Bi Hyeong: Enchanted Master of the Goblin
7 people found this review helpful
by John Master
Fantasy and romance that works together...but do they still work separately?
To best appreciate the charms of this 12-episode series, a prior acquaintance with Korean folklore around goblins (dokkebi) and nine-tailed foxes (gumiho) will help.* The BL romances featured in The Story of Bi Hyeong: Enchanted Master of the Goblin King build out from a scaffolding of fantasy folklore. In fact, the series falls in line with other genre hybrids like Khemjira (ghosts), or Manner of Death (murder mystery), or Spare Me Your Mercy (legal/medical thriller) as a BL series where the romance unfolds in secondary moments because the characters’ primary objective is to resolve plot threads created for the OTHER genre to work. If the viewer understands the series is fantasy first and romance second, they are more likely to find it enjoyable.
Like so many other Korean entries in the fantasy pantheon, the story frame entangles a human with immortals. Rural country boy Guem Bok, an aspiring actor, moves to Seoul. The naïve youth finds himself overwhelmed with city life, victimized by shady real estate agents, shady street thugs, shady talent agents, and shady shades. Oh, yes, like the human protagonists in other dokkebi stories, Guem Bok can see ghosts—phantasms who threaten his life. Enter Bi Hyeong, the goblin king. A transactional dynamic emerges when Bi Heyong’s loyal dokkebi minion Gildal realizes the human has the unique ability to revitalize the goblin king’s waning magical powers. In exchange for supplying “essence” that reenergizes Bi Hyeong, Guem Bok can live rent-free in the nice Seoul home the two goblins share. As a bonus, the goblin king will shield Guem Bok from otherworldly dangers. This cohabitation soon draws the attention of Ji Gwi, a longtime rival of Bi Hyeonng. A gumiho who has camouflaged himself in human society as a plastic surgeon, Ji Gwi wants to respark a lost relationship with Gildal. Guem Bok’s sudden intrusion into their closeted lives (closeted, in the sense of hiding their true natures from mortals, mind you) reignites lingering passions and resentments among the immortals.
Vivid worldbuilding determines the success of fantasy TV series. Do the writers have firm control over the lore? Do the powers wielded by supernatural characters crop up consistently? Do the limitations? Do their backstories make sense, including a long reach into the distant past? Since these magical immortals tend to live (invisibly) in contemporary society, does the fish-out-of-water trope provide the expected amusement? Does the mortal human have a backstory (sob story?) that warrants drawing the attention of an immortal? The answers comprise a mixed bag. Episodes could and should have put more effort into fleshing out the circumstances that govern the lives of the dokkebi and gumiho characters, particularly as the ending left room for a second-season that would be even more dependent on the fantasy elements. The series’ best episode was the ninth, when the writers dispatched Guem Bok into the past, thereby playing many of the backstory cards concealed close to the vest up to that point. Finally, we gain a glimmer of understanding of the mysterious bond between goblin (Bi Hyeong) and human (Guem Bok). One suspects the writers felt constrained by having only six total hours to unspool their tale. While action moves along—the plot pace is brisk—events often occur for little discernible reason. More detailed unpacking of the supernatural world hidden in plain view would have remedied this deficiency. Leaving the viewer wanting more is not a bad thing; starving them on purpose is quite another.
The light touch on the fantasy story carries into the romantic plots. In early episodes plenty of physical contact ensues between Guem Bok and Bi Hyeong. But why? The touching is ambiguous. Does Bi Hyeong touch Guem Bok to illustrate sexual tension? Or, is the contact merely instrumental, to remind the viewer that the human can transfer essence that the goblin needs? Whichever, the constant contact creates a plethora of sweet moments—the lifeblood of any successful BL series—but without any definitive sense that either character has caught romantic feeling. The sweetness of their moments of physical interaction is therefore nearly superseded by the transactional understanding each has of their relationship (essence traded for protection). Because the fantasy story requires that neither Guem Bok nor Bi Hyeong recognize the reason for their unusual connection (until ep 10), neither interacts with the other from any motivation resembling romance. That dynamic improves in the final quartet of episodes, but viewers tuning in for the BL may already have bailed, while viewers enjoying the fantasy will wish for even more backstory. Rather more successful in the early stages is the long-simmering romance (centuries worth of simmer!) between Gwi Ji and Gil Dal. One does sense that these two lost something precious at some point in the past. But will they be able to regain it? Like the fantasy, the success of the two romances is somewhat mixed.
On a final note, I cannot make sense of the subtitle. The English grammar suggests that “enchanted master of the goblin” refers back to Bi Hyeong. But Bi Hyeong is the goblin, not the goblin’s master. The master is Geum Bok, whom I would not have described as “enchanted,” as that description better suits the supernatural ability of the goblin. Except maybe Geum Bok is enchanted with how handsome Bi Hyeong is? But I don’t think that’s the sense of “enchantment” the title bespeaks. Anyway, perhaps something was lost in translation, or there is some Korean nuance I failed to discern. Or, like the rest of the series, perhaps the title’s wording serves to intrigue without fully paying off.
Like so many other Korean entries in the fantasy pantheon, the story frame entangles a human with immortals. Rural country boy Guem Bok, an aspiring actor, moves to Seoul. The naïve youth finds himself overwhelmed with city life, victimized by shady real estate agents, shady street thugs, shady talent agents, and shady shades. Oh, yes, like the human protagonists in other dokkebi stories, Guem Bok can see ghosts—phantasms who threaten his life. Enter Bi Hyeong, the goblin king. A transactional dynamic emerges when Bi Heyong’s loyal dokkebi minion Gildal realizes the human has the unique ability to revitalize the goblin king’s waning magical powers. In exchange for supplying “essence” that reenergizes Bi Hyeong, Guem Bok can live rent-free in the nice Seoul home the two goblins share. As a bonus, the goblin king will shield Guem Bok from otherworldly dangers. This cohabitation soon draws the attention of Ji Gwi, a longtime rival of Bi Hyeonng. A gumiho who has camouflaged himself in human society as a plastic surgeon, Ji Gwi wants to respark a lost relationship with Gildal. Guem Bok’s sudden intrusion into their closeted lives (closeted, in the sense of hiding their true natures from mortals, mind you) reignites lingering passions and resentments among the immortals.
Vivid worldbuilding determines the success of fantasy TV series. Do the writers have firm control over the lore? Do the powers wielded by supernatural characters crop up consistently? Do the limitations? Do their backstories make sense, including a long reach into the distant past? Since these magical immortals tend to live (invisibly) in contemporary society, does the fish-out-of-water trope provide the expected amusement? Does the mortal human have a backstory (sob story?) that warrants drawing the attention of an immortal? The answers comprise a mixed bag. Episodes could and should have put more effort into fleshing out the circumstances that govern the lives of the dokkebi and gumiho characters, particularly as the ending left room for a second-season that would be even more dependent on the fantasy elements. The series’ best episode was the ninth, when the writers dispatched Guem Bok into the past, thereby playing many of the backstory cards concealed close to the vest up to that point. Finally, we gain a glimmer of understanding of the mysterious bond between goblin (Bi Hyeong) and human (Guem Bok). One suspects the writers felt constrained by having only six total hours to unspool their tale. While action moves along—the plot pace is brisk—events often occur for little discernible reason. More detailed unpacking of the supernatural world hidden in plain view would have remedied this deficiency. Leaving the viewer wanting more is not a bad thing; starving them on purpose is quite another.
The light touch on the fantasy story carries into the romantic plots. In early episodes plenty of physical contact ensues between Guem Bok and Bi Hyeong. But why? The touching is ambiguous. Does Bi Hyeong touch Guem Bok to illustrate sexual tension? Or, is the contact merely instrumental, to remind the viewer that the human can transfer essence that the goblin needs? Whichever, the constant contact creates a plethora of sweet moments—the lifeblood of any successful BL series—but without any definitive sense that either character has caught romantic feeling. The sweetness of their moments of physical interaction is therefore nearly superseded by the transactional understanding each has of their relationship (essence traded for protection). Because the fantasy story requires that neither Guem Bok nor Bi Hyeong recognize the reason for their unusual connection (until ep 10), neither interacts with the other from any motivation resembling romance. That dynamic improves in the final quartet of episodes, but viewers tuning in for the BL may already have bailed, while viewers enjoying the fantasy will wish for even more backstory. Rather more successful in the early stages is the long-simmering romance (centuries worth of simmer!) between Gwi Ji and Gil Dal. One does sense that these two lost something precious at some point in the past. But will they be able to regain it? Like the fantasy, the success of the two romances is somewhat mixed.
On a final note, I cannot make sense of the subtitle. The English grammar suggests that “enchanted master of the goblin” refers back to Bi Hyeong. But Bi Hyeong is the goblin, not the goblin’s master. The master is Geum Bok, whom I would not have described as “enchanted,” as that description better suits the supernatural ability of the goblin. Except maybe Geum Bok is enchanted with how handsome Bi Hyeong is? But I don’t think that’s the sense of “enchantment” the title bespeaks. Anyway, perhaps something was lost in translation, or there is some Korean nuance I failed to discern. Or, like the rest of the series, perhaps the title’s wording serves to intrigue without fully paying off.
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