kalien

my god, baa...... i was with you. i was rooting for you, whether with fou4mod or bua. but then, man...... you did bua SOOO dirty in ep 6. bua was probably the character i felt the least sympathy for too, but damn. that was callous, cold, cruel, and other c-words...... and then you go be all emo, and i'm not forgiving you for being a contemptible B to bua, but then you go all emo on us, and it doesn't erase what you said and did...... ugh, you gelboys are exhausting!

i only read the synopsis and thought, yeah, probably not for me. talk about a surprise. it all made sense when i saw the creative team behind this also brought us i told sunset about you. i'll call it, i told siam about you. all this about being on the hook, the acting was off the hook. i don't know how i feel about the characters, but the performances were amazing. all four the leads had me about ready to hurl something at my tv at some point or another. not just gelboys, it hope the nadao creative team veterans keep it up.

this series managed to do things that either normally don't speak to me or that i downright hate and make them "fly higher." i don't find it groundbreaking or boundary pushing, but it may just be the pitch perfect realization of the average-joeXcelebrity/idol storyline. usually i think 12 episodes is stretching it for a lot of thai bl—even for the relatively consistent likes of gmm. they gave us 13 here, and i still want more. luscious cinematography, great performances from an inexperienced cast, and a spot-on soundtrack made this an incredibly memorable watch. it gave me the simple, magical feels i remember from watching k-dramas back in the day. seriously, gmm, give us more like this.

To Go to China or Not to Go to China: That Conversation at the Airport

That Yeong’s HIV status is the reason he does not go to China is only partly correct. The series’ 4-year time difference compared to the source novel, varying international attitudes and understanding toward HIV, and regrettably the series and novel’s maladroit handling of this plot point have garnered a lot of attention.

Yeong chooses not to take the medical exam, and lies to Gyu-ho. Yes, HIV is the reason he decides not to take the medical exam. But he never discloses this to Gyu-ho, and Gyu-ho took a medical exam in Yeong’s place previously.

I do NOT want to look at Yeong’s health history or debate the finer scientific points about U=U. The fact of the matter is, Yeong makes an active decision at this point to not go. Kylie is a reason, but is it the only one?

Yeong has always been vulnerable, looking for someone to love him in the way that he wants to be loved. Perhaps Gyu-ho was that person whom he met at a point of extreme emotional vulnerability. I’ve commented previously that they both go through many upheavals during their time together: Yeong’s mother has just died, Gyu-ho is relatively new splitting his time between Seoul and Incheon, Gyu-ho finishes his studies and begins working, Yeong starts work at a Korean company (Korean workplaces are not for the faint of heart), then they move in together. These are all big, life-changing events that are likely to cause tension in relationships of people who have a deep history together–let alone these two.

Again, I do NOT want to debate the science of PrEP and HIV. Gyu-ho couldn’t keep it up with a condom, and Yeong wanted sex. Of course we don’t hear Gyu-ho expressing the satisfaction since the story is filtered through Yeong–the issue, as far as is expressed to the audience, is less important to Gyu-ho. When Gyu-ho briefly breaks up and looks on Tinder, is it because of sexual dissatisfaction? Probably not.

I think the key to understanding their relationship, and the differences between them, is in their final conversation at the airport.

Gyu-ho is asking serious questions of Yeong, which remarkably it seems neither has discussed with any seriousness. Gyu-ho’s questions are genuine, and his first question implies that he is willing to wait for Yeong, but Yeong is incapable of responding directly. Gyu-ho’s next question on their relationship is more direct: are they breaking up? Yeong still cannot provide an answer.

Finally we come to their last exchange, and the English subtitles that I saw rather put a slightly different spin on it. Gyu-ho asks: “Will you be okay without me?” Looking only at the text, it looks like St. Gyu-ho is expressing concern about Yeong. The subtitle, combined with the tone and reaction might seem incongruent, because the Korean dialogue is much closer to “Don’t you care that I won’t be here?”–after the entire story of their relationship, Yeong is incapable of expressing what Gyu-ho needs to hear. Yeong, the writer, has no words. Gyu-ho storms off.

The role of HIV in their break-up is questionable and complicated. HIV is inextricably linked to their relationship: their first meeting, their sex life, and the health exam for a Chinese visa. Ultimately Yeong’s failure of honesty, why he didn’t take the exam and his reasons for not truthfully telling Gyu-ho cannot be denied. That they made it to the airport without having discussed their future prospects is curious, though understandable. At the end though, it’s clear that Gyu-ho just needs Yeong to communicate clearly and honestly, and Yeong is incapable of doing so, becoming a nuclear weapon.

Gyu-ho can’t perform with a condom leaving Yeong’s need for physical intimacy unfulfilled. Rightly or wrongly, it becomes a major source of dissatisfaction in Yeong’s view of their relationship. Yeong’s need. Yeong’s view. Make of that what one will!

The sex situation, yes, there may have been a solution. PrEP would have been available in the TV timeline in Korea (though probably not during the novel’s timeline), but I read recently that very few in Korea get prescriptions for it, and it’s frequently ordered from abroad, which is illegal without a prescription. I don’t know anything about HIV treatment or living with HIV in Korea, nor do I have any idea what he got in Thailand–a lot of blanks permeate the series. With the differing timelines between the series and the novel, maybe the series should’ve handled this plot point differently, or with more explanation. Everything related to HIV in this series has received a lot of questions and criticism on here, and I can totally understand why. Personally, as a gay man in Korea, even though I have not been in this specific experience, something about it makes sense to me. Even with an undetectable viral load, would I want to put my partner at risk? Would my partner feel comfortable getting a prescription for PrEP here?

They're talking about someone else. His friends don't know he has it.

Undetectable is not HIV-negative, just to be clear.

This series doesn’t discuss HIV in detail. We don’t know Yeong’s treatment, whether or why PrEP was not an option for them in Korea. There’s too many variables and it’s hard to get any clarity, and I'm skeptical it contributes to any understanding of the story.

What is clear is that Yeong does not want to risk transmitting HIV to Gyu-ho, and HIV stigma affects Yeong’s life.

I'm not sure why you're asking me. I only commented earlier to say that 1. Korea had more Protestants than Catholics; 2. Korea does not have a religious majority; and 3. Protestants and Catholics are not the same. I only commented in response to inaccurate information. And I specifically did acknowledge that Korean media is reluctant to depict same-sex romance, and that Christianity probably does contribute to that reluctance.

Your question is interesting, and I'd also point out the queerness of Coffee Prince in which Gong Yoo's character believed he was falling in love with a male.

The essence of your question is why don’t name-recognizable actors in Korea take on same-sex romantic roles.

Starting from this point, maybe some would if given the chance, just as others wouldn’t. An actor's choice in roles is probably based on personal preference and availability of roles and their quality. Hypothetically, it's not difficult to imagine if offered a role, like Yeong, they might be inclined to turn it down fearing backlash.

It’s also important to consider the industry landscape. I’m not an avid watcher of Korean media, but as far as I’m aware, same-sex romantic roles are pretty rare. The quality of roles is likely uneven too, as would be the production’s budget. There’s a difference between Love in the Big City with its serious depiction of gay life in Korea versus the more recent output of “traditional BL” in Korea.

Don’t get me wrong. I love BL. But a high-profile actor is unlikely to appear in a low-budget, light BL. And an unknown actor will have an uphill battle to get into a big-budget project. Western media is in an era of splendid diversity, but it wasn’t always that way.

And Korea is not the US.

Before moving on, let’s also consider that actors and media companies are incredibly risk-averse. Journalistic integrity might not be up to the standards of Western media, and netizens are vicious. For this, the entire production of Love in the Big City should be celebrated.

Stepping further back, what is the contemporary Korean stance on LGBTQ+ issues, and why? Unfortunately, there’s no satisfying, simple answer.

Yes, Christianity does play a part. But that’s not the whole part. Ingrained Confucianism probably plays an equal, if not greater part, as does the purity of the race in a country with low birth rates. Same-sex love also upsets the natural gender roles that the ethnic nation state requires for its existence. There’s also the fact that Korea was very, very isolated throughout most of its history. It has a complicated relationship with the West, and having never considered same-sex love, flipping the channel and seeing a Modern Family rerun is going to be quite a shock. Same-sex love is only recently a burgeoning mainstream presence. Christianity has played a much more active, recent part in Korean society, but as a previous commenter mentioned, there’s a lot more going on.

Protests happen all the time on small scales and large scales on every issue, and some even make worldwide news. For context, Koreans love protesting. It’s important to put things into perspective.

I’m not writing all of this to dispute that Christianity influences Korean society. I’ve acknowledged this here and previously. But I think it’s simplistic to point merely to religion as the reason for actors not taking on more same-sex roles, the lack of availability or roles, or the source of any potential backlash. There are so many socio-cultural and historical factors that need to be taken into account within Korea even before comparing to other countries and their socio-cultural environments.

When it comes to sex, there’s something interesting about the size and scale of Japan’s pornography industry versus Korea, where I believe only softcore pornography is legal. The internet here is also pretty censored as well. I’m not sure what this all says about Japan's versus Korea's attitudes toward sex, but it definitely says something.

Please note that I wasn’t contradicting the idea that religion may play some role in anti-LGBTQ+ sentiment in Korea. In fact, I agree that religion may play a part in the reluctance of Korean media to depict same-sex romance as asked. I was clarifying that we’re not a country with a Christian majority, and that as far as Christianity goes, Protestants are more numerous than Catholics.

In relation to LGBTQ+ issues, while the Catholic church may have a more fixed stance, there is a wide range of opinion throughout the many Protestant churches–just as there are fundamental theological differences between Catholics and Protestants, and within Protestantism. And even though a church may have a stance on a certain issue, its members may have differing views. I know many Christians, Catholic and Protestant, with progressive views on LGBTQ+ issues. I also know many Christians that aren't.

not speaking to the original question, but i think there are more protestants than catholics, but i don't think there's a christian majority in korea.

Yeong was diagnosed in early February 2014 based on the date shown on his medical report. This definitely would've been before Yeong-su, but the timing isn't clear in relation to Nam-gyu.

Ep. 2 probably ends in early 2017 since Yeong calls Mi-ae at the end of December 2016, and learns of Nam-gyu's death which is also dated to that month. Ep. 1 does cover 2014, but it's really hard to work out when exactly it starts, and it's unclear how much time is passing between many of the events.

Episode titles as per Wikipedia and the Novel:
1-2
TV: Mi-ae
Novel: Jaehee
3-4
TV: A Piece of Rockfish, a Taste Out of This World
Novel: A Bite of Rockfish, Taste the Universe
Korean: 우럭 한 점 우주의 맛
Word for word: rockfish a/one piece/bite, space’s/universe’s taste
5-6:
Love in the Big City
대도시의 사랑법
Word for word: big city’s love rules/method
7-8:
TV: A Vacation in the Late Rainy Season
Novel: Late Rainy Season Vacation
Korean: 늦은 우기의 바캉스

I think there's even more depth to it than that. Looking at their relationship: Gyu-ho transitions from a student to working a lot, wanting to save money, initially living quite a ways away. Yeong begins the soul-crushing life of a typical Korean worker while working to pursue his dreams of writing. Then they move in together. That’s already a lot. Plus, Yeong isn’t an easy person to deal with, even for St. Gyu-ho.

Kylie obviously affected Yeong’s sex life with Gyu-ho, and Yeong directly expresses dissatisfaction. But with everything else going on between them, I think it’s hard to blame everything on Kylie. Gyu-ho looks at Tinder after he briefly leaves their home, but I read this as anger at Yeong rather than purely Kylie. Plus their “break-up” at the airport is far from straightforward.

On the other points:
1. Yeong doesn’t take the test, and doesn’t tell Gyu-ho the truth either. Yeong does not want to risk HIV showing up on his health exam for his employer sponsored visa.
2. Yeong was diagnosed in February 2014. He’s had Kylie for five years by the time he meets Gyu-ho, so we’re roughly in 2019. PrEP was approved for use in Korea in 2018 (novel was published in 2019). Technically it would have been available.
This article (https://www.koreabiomed.com/news/articleView.html?idxno=23620) outlines the current situation.

I need to stay away from this page, but I’m still reeling.

I agree with the people who cannot appreciate this: this is not a good Korean drama. This is not a good BL.

Without going into the complications of trying to define genres, this certainly is not what one would normally think of when they think of either a Korean drama or a BL.

This is an 8-part TV adaptation of a Korean novel, comprised of four sections, dealing with a gay character’s primarily love but also life experiences throughout his 20s and 30s.

There are aspects that overlap with both Korean dramas and BL beyond being a Korean TV series that shows male-male romance. Even light Korean dramas can play for heavy emotion. And BLs can touch upon deeper themes.

There are many experiences that LGBTQ+ people likely find in common with this work. There are plenty of other human experiences with family, religion, work, finances that many people can relate to.

I totally get how Yeong can be very off-putting, which puts this work at a disadvantage since it’s about him.

Everyone is made up of different experiences that are shared with others in some way or form, and the end result is a unique individual.

Consider how small a country Korea is, how much smaller the LGBTQ+ community in Korea is, and then some of the other situations in Yeong’s life. Yeong is not an everyman, fully relatable character, nor is he meant to be.

For me, Yeong is valuable. I’ve shared so many similar experiences, some so similar that made this a very hard watch. I’m not Yeong. If only I looked like Nam Yoon-su! Yeong is a fictional creation. Yet this work captured so much of my 20s and early 30s that I can’t help but to appreciate it, painful as it is.

I love this work for capturing the ephemeral so harshly and so eloquently, and representing an experience so very specific.

At the same time, I would also caution against looking for meaning that isn’t there. Showing gay characters in military uniform? Check X, ex-Twitter. Enjoying some PDA in a Itaewon or Jongno? I don’t see what’s so special.

That Korea is conservative is true. That there’s rampant, constant persecution? No, not really. Yes, there were some pre-release controversies, and this work does shine a light on external, societal obstacles in their various forms. But this work isn’t a political statement with an agenda. It’s a reflection.

Seoul is a beautiful, lonely city. I’ve drunkenly stumbled down the same streets as Yeong, impulsively looking for love, however fleeting. I’ve been chased, I’ve chased, I’ve let go, I’ve hurt myself, I’ve hurt others, I’ve needed, I’ve given up, I’ve tried again–all under the shadow of Seoul Tower through an endless cycle of wet summer nights and winter snowfalls.

It’s so hard to find love. A lot of times we don’t love ourselves, and it’s not hard to see why. Life is exhausting to navigate. But to all the other Yeongs out there, like me, it reminds us we’re not alone. And that’s what makes it special.

Given Yeong's lived experience, he carries a lot of emotional baggage and this manifests itself in some pretty negative ways. I don't think the series intends to portray him negatively as much as it recognizes his negative qualities in as neutral of a way as possible. By affection, I mean the author must see the character with some affection in order to create him, send him on his journey, and have him end up in an arguably okay place.

I'd go so far as to say that the series doesn't care what the audience thinks. This is the story that the production team wanted to tell with the novelist as screenwriter, and it feels pretty uncompromising with little handholding or explanation to the audience. I haven't read or watched any BTS info. That said, Yeong feels to me like a creation of affectionate contempt.