fyra

If you are a woman with any career ambitions, you have probably heard of the saying, "Work or family. Pick one, because you can't have it all." That is something Seo Munju is all too familiar with. When her husband, Assemblyman Jang Junik, decides to run for president of South Korea, Munju makes the ultimate sacrifice by stepping down from her position as an ambassador to the UN in order to support his political career. She dons a classy white skirt suit, puts on a gold cross necklace, and wears a smile on her face. On the surface, she is a doting wife standing in the shadows behind a perfect politician and God-fearing man. However, the path to the top is paved with danger, corruption, and uncertainty. Munju becomes the witness to a political assassination, and she finds herself in the midst of an international conspiracy that could potentially turn her country, and maybe even the entire world, upside down.

"I had a dream. And in the dream, I was a man." This very first line in episode one immediately hooked me into the world of Tempest. I loved the way it perfectly embodied the overarching theme and set the tone for the entire drama: strong female characters being underestimated and overlooked in favor of the men in their lives — the men that they helped build and uplift. It was the very reason why I was drawn to our protagonist, Seo Munju, who was one of the several formidable female characters in this story. She was complex, relatable, and sympathetic. As always, Jun Ji Hyun did a fantastic job bringing her character to life. Watching Munju step away from the spotlight to assume a traditional gender role for the sake of her husband's political career was painful and infuriating, which made her decision to reclaim her ambitions all the more powerful and inspirational.

One of my concerns about intricate political and conspiracy plots is that, while I love them in theory, I hate how they always consist of unnecessary filler. Tempest only had a total of nine episodes, so I had high hopes that the drama would stray from focusing too much attention on irrelevant subplots. I wanted the drama to prioritize the espionage storyline. For the most part, the drama did just that. It was thrilling to watch Munju piece together the clues she had gathered and try to figure out the reasons behind the political assassination she witnessed. The suspense and intrigue left me mindblown and craving more... that is, until the love arc took front and center.

I am a firm believer that not every story needs a romance, and Tempest is a great example of this. The romance was sudden, with the first intimate scene being so awkward and uncomfortable to watch. While I have a soft spot for a powerful woman and a protective bodyguard dynamic, I found Baek Sanho's obsession with Munju to be unsettling. I liked the tension and chemistry they had in the beginning, and I wish their relationship had just stayed the same as before. The plot started to derail and the pacing started to drag once these two characters got together. After Munju escaped the chaos at her campaign rally, there was a change in the tone, not just in the narrative, but also in Munju's character. For once, she was supposed to put herself and her dreams first, but instead, she ended up getting distracted by a man she barely knew.

When the writers finally shifted the focus from the underwhelming romance back to the main espionage storyline, they ran out of time to properly resolve all of the plotlines that they previously introduced. The final two episodes of Tempest felt like a confusing and rushed departure from the compelling narrative that the drama started with. Plot twists that should've been shocking revelations ended up feeling out of place, failing to make any logical sense to me. It was as if the writers carelessly threw them into the story just for shock value. I wonder what kind of story Tempest could've been if so much time was not spent on forcing the romance down our throats. Would the writers had put more effort into creating a cohesive finale?

What made Tempest so disappointing to me was its wasted potential. Somewhere along the way, Tempest got sidetracked from the very premise that initially captivated viewers like me: What if a woman chose herself for once and put her dreams first? I wanted this idea to be explored more in depth. The way the underdeveloped romance hindered the momentum of the more interesting political storyline was frustrating for me to watch unfold. The writers flawlessly set up a powerful story of female ambition and liberation from the confines of traditional gender roles, only to let these themes fizzle out. In the end, Tempest proved that sometimes, even in fiction, women can't have it all.