Missing brothers, the truth about the KPop industry, and endless cycles of reincarnation are just a few of the things Coop and Steve find when they open the lid of the K-drama box and discover the darkness within.
Disclaimer:The views and opinions expressed by the participants in this chatlog are not the views of Anime News Network. Spoiler Warning for discussion of the series ahead.
CONTENT WARNING: This edition of This Week in Anime features a discussion of titles that contain domestic violence, workplace abuse, self-harm, suicide, and other potentially upsetting subject matter. Reader discretion is advised.
Coop
Something’s up with my phone, Steve! This alarm I didn’t set keeps going off!
It says something about watching K-Dramas based on K-Comics? Between the offerings available on Netflix and Prime Video, I’d say we have plenty of choices… Not to mention that I’m recognizing a few names from Rebecca’s K-Comics coverage, too!
Steve
Right you are, Coop. Media from South Korea certainly seems to be having A Moment in the West right now, although it’s a moment that’s been going on for possibly a decade at this point. People have been on the K-pop train for a while. Even here at TWIA, we’ve been dipping our usual Japanophile toes into Korean waters. Last month, you and Lucas taught me about KPop Demon Hunters. Before that, Lucas and I ate up some toxic webtoons and lived to tell about it. My horizons continue to expand.
The unescapable buzz around KPop Demon Hunters has sparked an even wider interest in Korean culture and media. However, I’m curious how the general masses will react after going from this…
As soon as I threw on the first of the six series we’re taking a look at, I quickly learned that there’s an endlessly compelling, cynical edge to most of these works. And Bong Joon-Ho’s Parasite wasn’t just an outlier. This specific element becomes fascinating when I started to notice that the glitzy appearance put on by Demon Hunters is rather incompatible with the media it’s drawing inspiration from. All glitz without the grime.
This was an eye-opening experience for me. Like any aspiring film snob, I’ve seen and enjoyed a decent amount of Korean cinema in my time. However, the only K-drama I’d ever watched before these was, predictably, Squid Game. I didn’t know what to expect. But I guess it makes sense to start with Imitation, because its critiques of the music industry felt familiar.
I won’t lie, I couldn’t help but think back to what I heard while covering a K-Pop industry panel last year. Though Imitation is a dramatization, there’s so much in-depth discussion around how these talents are manipulated by their management, I have a hunch that some elements are ripped out of the headlines. It becomes even more haunting that these talents are kids who could have their lives ruined in the blink of an eye.
And let’s not forget the severe pressure and alleged abuse being thrown around at them, either.
As with the Japanese idol industry, I’m sure most of it is boring and quotidian. But there’s a good reason for Imitation to poke at the way it can be corporatized—even militarized, almost—and how that strips people of their humanity in search of profit.
To that end, there’s some biting black comedy in this. Like all of the suits, they treat a young girl’s tragic suicide as primarily a business inconvenience. Imitation knows writers who use subtext, and it thinks they are all cowards.
I also enjoy how the series calls out the hardcore stans for their bad behavior. There’s no “right” way to be a fan, dudes.
The show knows its stuff. There’s also the fact that three of the four lead actors began their actual careers in the music industry, as part of a boy/girl band, so you have the metatextual element, too.
Speaking of metatext, I couldn’t help but ask myself, “Is that director supposed to be a homage to Bong Joon-Ho?” He does have the hairstyle and fit down after all.
I thought the same! And it’s a reasonable assumption that was intentional, given that Jung Ji-so, who plays Ma-ha, was in Parasite. Which makes it even funnier when we cut away from the glamorous awards show to Ma-ha’s slightly humbler concert venue.
All in all, I like that the romance angle mostly takes a backseat in this premiere, because it clearly has a lot of other things to say.
Even though she’s not living an exactly glamorous life after Omega 3, I am glad to see Ma-ha doing her best to trudge along forward. However, I’m surprised she hadn’t bothered to get herself a new manager…and that’s even before he ditches her at a film set.
They want you to know that this smoking hot webtoon CEO is about to take a fleshy form.
Overall, Business Proposal is the most cartoonish of the bunch. I mean that figuratively, but also literally. From set design to actual cartoon inserts, it’s bursting with color in a way that sets it apart from the crowd. And stylistically, it’s a good fit for the ridiculous rom-com shenanigans.
This one has a refreshingly simple setup: Ha-ri is bribed by her best friend, Young-seo, to go on a blind date with a rich dude, claim to be her, and send him packing. But despite being as repulsive as she can muster, Ha-ri somehow charms the guy with her “authenticity.” Also, this guy is the new president of her company…
That cynical edge is still here, but Business Proposal‘s specific flavor of it reminds me of classic rom-coms from the ’80s and ’90s. As I said, it’s a refreshingly simple setup that makes way for an increasingly messy (in a good way) tale. Mr. President is going to find out sooner or later that Ha-ri isn’t the “Young-seo” she says she is.
It’s the ol’ swaperoonie with all of the ensuing misunderstandings and silliness we know and love. Still, there’s nothing wrong with playing the hits, and Ha-ri makes for a charming lead, especially with her actress’ readiness to mug for the camera.
Genre-savvy grandpa is a sure sign that Business Proposal is equally sure of itself. Although this is probably the premiere where I was most aware of the hour-long runtime per episode. I think a straightforward rom-com is better suited for brevity, but that could just be me.
The runtime was something I noticed, too, and this wasn’t the only show I felt myself looking at the clock with, either. I feel that Business Proposal‘s premiere really got going in its last thirty minutes. Perhaps the series would’ve been better suited to a broadcast hour (around 48-ish minutes) rather than a full hour, so it could get into the meat of its hijinks sooner. The bits with Ha-ri’s crush and her family felt as if they padded the runtime a bit.
It’s also possible we’re both weenies whose attention spans are too used to 23-minute anime episodes where 3 of those minutes are taken up by the OP and ED. But who’s to say?
You have a good point… Though I did manage to sit through my viewings of Drive My Car and RRR (both are three-and-a-half hours long) without taking a break, if that’s anything to consider.
At least none of these premieres felt like they lasted a lifetime. Although one of them did last multiple lifetimes.
I forgot that Truck-kun has a live-action appearance here! The presence of this des-truck-tive icon aside, 19th Life goes out of its way to dazzle with striking imagery right out of the gate.
It has a vision—and a budget!—compared to some of our other samples. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see them wreck the shit out of this car. That’s cinema right there.
I’d say this premiere earned its runtime, as it has quite a bit to explain while keeping the plot going. Years after the aforementioned crash, Ji-eum is reincarnated as a nine-year-old living in poverty. However, her first thought upon regaining her memories is whether her friend in the crash, Seo-ha, is still alive.
She’s quick to use her eighteen lifetimes of experience to escape her situation and find her friend. Heck, she even reconnects with her niece from a past life while she’s at it!
19th Life has a vision it’s going for and executes upon it quite well at that. The structure of this episode reminded me of Oshi no Ko‘s feature-length premiere—setting up everything the audience needs to know ahead of the story proper. The same could probably be said for Imitation as well now that I think about it.
It also continues the trend of cynical social commentary. At first, Ji-eum’s lifetime of experience only netted her fame as part of the cheesy variety show circuit. And her parents are deadbeats who immediately leech her earnings away anyway.
I wish the show spent more time on this angle, both to deepen this thematic exploration and because it’s funny when a little girl acts like she’s an old man.
There’s definitely more to pull on regarding Ji-eum’s relationship with her niece. Even though she proves herself to be the genuine article, it would be hard to believe that a little girl off the street is actually your uncle. There’s a bit of complex grief to process there, too, which seems to be more at play in Ji-eum’s new relationship with Seo-ha.
She might be the same soul, but she’s a totally new person in his eyes—not the one who died in his arms.
Unfortunately, this is where 19th Life kinda falls flat for me. The reincarnation angle is interesting, but I don’t buy the romance between Ji-eum and Seo-ha. She met him when he was a snot-nosed little rich kid, and the writing doesn’t do enough to sell me on their relationship. Some of that is because it’s hard to establish a compelling romance between two children, but it makes for a rocky foundation for the main plot.
But at least it’s easy to see that the series’ production designer loves themselves a little Baz Luhrmann.
My brain instantly went there, too. And overall, I think it’s nice that the show uses water to signal their relationship. A little consistent visual language goes a long way. Even if it’s not quite as far as I’d like here.
Well, at least it’s better than suddenly reappearing after twelve years and being immediately rejected by your sister… Then again, I don’t know if this guy is the “Hongrang” he claims to be.
Dear Hongrang was the first of these K-dramas that I watched, and also the only historical drama of the bunch, so I had to throw out most of the expectations it gave me. Regardless, it certainly earns its keep on its own merits. You’ve got complicated familial politics. Wailing mothers. Weird demon ghosts. Dog. Lots going on.
The slights and insidious insults that were flying here kept leading me to say, “Oh, I see what you’re doing, and it’s making me wince so hard.”
Court politics, baby! On that note, I’ll readily admit that I know pitifully little about Korean history, so it was really interesting to see the similarities and differences when compared to analogous court dramas from Japan and China.
Same here, honestly. I appreciate, even if it may be a small window into Korean history, that Dear Hongrang allowed me to peer into part of a culture that I’m interested in familiarizing myself with.
Of course, the more some things change, the more others stay the same.
Everyone loves to hate a hysterical matriarch. Although I like that Hongrang is also pretty much an asshole when he shows up, in a different way that feels believable for someone who earned their keep as a sellsword. It’s a good layer of friction on top of the central mystery.
The premiere keeps its cards close to its chest, though. It’s more about establishing the setting and family dynamics than digging into what a creepy white-haired spectre has to do with anything. Which is fine. That’s how they get you to watch more, after all.
On that note, it’s a neat touch how the supernatural elements of this one reappear as a stinger to cap off the episode. After the first five or ten minutes, you quickly forget about the specter you saw right as the title card hit.
Now, if you want more consistent ghosts and ghouls action, then look no further than Tomorrow, which is about a guy who gets roped into working odd jobs for the afterlife after a freak accident. Something about that sounds so familiar…
Huh, this randomly started playing… What a wild coincidence! _
Well, maybe we’ll need to put an asterisk on that while we’re here, actually.
There are plenty of anime-related jokes and references we can make here, but that’s not what Tomorrow is truly about. Tomorrow asks a far more pertinent question: what if Beetlejuice was a baddie.
I’m not joking. There are too many similarities. She shows up in that red sports jacket, like Beetlejuice‘s tuxedo at the end of the movie. She later wears a black-and-white striped shirt like his other outfit.
Wow… I can’t unsee Ryeon as “Baddie Beetlejuice” now. But honestly, she’s probably the aspect of this show that brings viewers over right away. Speaking for myself, I was like “oh, cool girl with red hair and copious drip” when I first saw Tomorrow pop up on my Netflix queue.
Lots of death and suicide in these K-dramas! Fun! To Tomorrow‘s credit, though, its core conceit revolves around suicide. Ryeon is a former demon from hell who now co-runs an understaffed afterlife department (again, the Beetlejuice comparisons run rampant) tasked with stopping suicides on the surface. Unfortunately, her M.O. is more along the “scared straight” line of rehabilitative philosophy.
And I mean, fair’s fair, if she threatened my life, I’d listen to what she had to say, too.
I had a feeling that she’d be right up your alley… To Ryeon’s credit, she does seem to have a deeper understanding of the feelings that could lead someone to self-harm. Much more so than any of her colleagues, who’d love it if her department were dissolved.
Tomorrow does an excellent job blending comedy into its serious subject matter. Like, Jun-woong finding out he lost a job to an executive’s relative is played for laughs, but the show also understands the despair of job searching.
And as if there’s not enough already going on, the last part of the episode introduces an arc about school bullying with Inception-style memory setpieces.
Between Baddie Beetlejuice and those visuals, I’m confident I’ll probably watch another episode or two of Tomorrow. A cool character can take a show a long way in my eyes.
Ji-won has been left alone to fight a losing battle with an aggressive form of cancer. Meanwhile, her dirtbag husband is off having an affair with her best friend. But when Ji-won discovers the affair and his plans to run off with the insurance money, the ensuing fight results in her death. That is, until she wakes up ten years in the past with all of her memories intact.
One of the funniest ways they could have established the date, for sure. Well, that and mentioning the president who got impeached, arrested for corruption, and sentenced to prison.
Incidentally, that could have something to do with the strain of cynicism we’ve seen running throughout these series.
I felt that as well, considering that current flows through every minute of this premiere. Be it Ji-won’s would-be hubby threatening her for breaking up with him, his awful mother, why many victims of domestic violence don’t go to the cops, or a whole lot of sexism in the office.
Marry My Husband gives you no shortage of things to chew on. The first act is so over-the-top it almost feels satirical. Like, the husband and his mom make Cinderella’s family look like soup kitchen volunteers. But when we go back in time, it clicks into place how Ji-won would have felt trapped.
I also think the main time travel mechanic is interesting. Ji-won can’t change what happens, but she can change who it happens to. For instance, a wound she’s supposed to get ends up on her hunky boss instead. It’s like history is a zero-sum game, so she chooses to maximize her gains by pushing losses onto the people around her, most relevantly by setting Min-hwan up with Su-min and letting them be disasters together. It’s an intrinsically cruel setup, and that’s what gives it narrative and thematic potential.
But other than his good looks, Ji-hyuk quickly shows himself as a compassionate figure in Ji-won’s life. Though I do wonder if that scar is just a preview for the potential misfortunes that might be inadvertently transferred to him. Also, I found the role that Ji-won’s father plays in her second shot at life to be incredibly sweet. I could easily see myself tearing up at these moments depending on my mood.
It’s a good kind of corny. The taxi driver, being some angel or something, was immediately obvious, and his being her dad honestly raises more questions than answers, but none of that really matters. The intriguing part is seeing how far Ji-won’s morals will go. Down the line, is she going to make someone else have stomach cancer? Can she even do that?
At least we get the standard time travel stock market stuff out of the way in the first episode. Though seeing the Tesla logo in there gave me a good laugh.
Haha, I missed that. Clearly, a woman of refined taste.
Well, nobody’s perfect.
And that’s it for our look into these K-Comic adaptations. After this, I’m curious to break into more Korean media. Because even when you think it’s not there, that biting edge is ever-present.
I also dug this little experiment. And like all successful experiments, I have plenty of better-informed follow-up questions for my next foray into K-drama. Anime is still my forte, of course—ANN isn’t getting rid of me that easily—but it’s always valuable to have as wide a perspective and as cosmopolitan an art diet as possible. Plus, now I know Baddie Beetlejuice is real. That’s its own reward.
