It's Okay not to be Okay (2020) Episode 14

As the show nears its end, everything is set up for the final showdown in Ko Mun-yeong's and Moon Gang-tae's own Sleeping Beauty story. Whether Park Heng-ja is really Do Hui-jae might still be up for grabs but it doesn't detract from the fact that she represents the malevolent force that has to be contended with. She might not be Mun-yeong's childhood Maleficent but she is the dragon that has to be slayed in Gang-tae's odyssey. It seems to be the show's contention that the abyss can't be sidestepped, it must be overcome step by step. Otherwise the happily-ever-after will remain a pipe dream. 

It does boggle the mind as to how Do Hui-jae could have survived that fall on such hard flooring and with all that blood loss. However, I don't hold out much hope for a logical scientific explanation for all that. :D If indeed Do Hui-jae has come back from the dead.

As an aside, the cover illustration of the monkfish reminds me of the ones that I've seen in Dr Seuss books and perhaps that's deliberate. A children's book with layers of meaning with lessons for the young and the adults alike. The monkfish story presents itself as an echo of the theme that runs right through the drama about parenting. It's the culmination of an ongoing conversation that Ko Mun-yeong has been having with her parents in absentia, all the time she has been writing children's books positioning herself and speaking through these chimeric characters. They have represented aspects of her self. She was raised in extreme fashion to be her mother's puppet, sculpture or empty vessel. The limbless child that's no better than a monkfish is an immobile beast that can't do her mother's bidding or function in the real world is discarded. The analogies are explicit in their condemnation that parents might bring children into the world to do their bidding... to be their "works of art" to show off to the world. It reminds me of Kwon Gi-do's siblings who can be shown off to the world with pride during an election campaign while the black sheep of the family has to be hidden in a mental institution never to be referred to in polite company. 

For me the most important reason why Do Hui-jae has to be the killer of Moon Gang-tae's mother or at the very least believed to be her murderer has more to do with Gang-tae's identity and understanding of what family means. I could say that it is important for Gang-tae to know how much he loves Mun-yeong... or for Mun-yeong to know how much he loves her to bear those wounds for her sake. For her to know that he would be prepared to overcome all the anger and hate to spend the rest of his life with her, is an enormous gesture on his part. It's mind blowing. It's absolutely inhuman. But it is meant to bear testimony to the transformative power of love. Whoever Park Heng-ja is isn't so crucial in the scheme of things. What is important is what kind of man Moon Gang-tae really is. Or who he wants to be. As he said in the last episode, he was forced to care for his brother and then to work as a caregiver but now being a caregiver... is really what he wants to be. That is... if you like... his true calling. His whole, better self. He wants to be the one who stands between the vulnerable and their darkness as he did for Seon-hae, Jung-tae and A-reum. His confrontation with Park Heng-ja is a vital part of that authentication of his truest self and his protection of his new family. 

Park Heng-ja who could be Do Hui-jae, wants him to run away from Mun-yeong. That's her goal undoubtedly. To remove the obstacle between her and Mun-yeong... her knight in shining armour... by ripping on his wound and dancing on it. He is the one standing in her way. So this is a test of his mettle. What he couldn't be to Mun-yeong as a boy... can he be that person now... as an adult and a man who is better equipped to rescue her from the clutches of her Maleficent figure. To the mind of Maleficent Gang-tae's influence is unwanted because he is gradually eroding and destroying the darkness that had consumed her by bringing light in. This is the fight of Gang-tae's life. His biggest battle wasn't finding out and processing the fact that Do Hui-jae killed his mother but to convince Mun-yeong that he loves her by what he does afterwards with that knowledge. This is the fight that will determine who he is and what kind of future they have.

I am reminded here of the Do Hui-jae's final manuscript... The Murder of the Witch of the West Vol. 10. With that my thoughts turn to Dorothy, the Lion, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow all heading towards Emerald City to fight the Wicked Witch of the West and free her slaves. Whether Gang-tae represents the Lion, the Tin Woodman, the Scarecrow, or even Dorothy it probably doesn't matter much. Mun-yeong calls him a "coward". He has to stand his ground. He has to stand firm against the onslaught of the malevolent Park Heng-ja, the doubts of Mun-yeong and his own fears.

It isn't just Gang-tae who has stepped up to the plate but Sang-tae too. He leaps into the role of the older brother with great gusto. He notices when she's lying. He notices when she's scared. He brings her food and feeds her. He is no longer the monkfish. He now has hands and legs to be a support to others around him. 

Do Hui-jae, in the flesh or in the spirit... whatever form she takes... is contrasted with Kang Seon-deuk (Ju-ri's mum). Her goal was always to tether her daughter to herself by shaping her into her own image. To keep elements and threats out. But the kindly Seon-duk brings people into her circle by her genuinely inclusive disposition. Her castle is welcoming of those who need a place to stay and hang out. She adopts strays as a matter of habit. She mothers them with her wisdom and her cooking. She wants her daughter to meet a nice man and encourages it. She brings cheer and light. She is loved by giving love not by demanding it. She is the quintessential Mother archetype. She is the Good Witch of the North. The true north where all lost ones gravitate towards. The true north that those who have lost their bearings find their way back to.

It's Okay not to be Okay (2020) Episode 13

As always the show doesn't disappoint. Grim as it may seem, it stays true to its vision.

The abyss remains the abyss for now. Gang-tae must continue to look into it and deal with all its horrors. But it's burden he has to share. It isn't his to bear on his own because the past that involves the three of them is the legacy of their parents that they have to denounce and conquer together. Ko Dae-hwan's death bed confession certainly fingered Do Hui-jae as the culprit for the death of Gang-tae's mother. At least Do Hui-jae made no attempt to deny her role in it. There are no easy exits out of the desolation apparently. The protagonists are compelled to stare into the abyss and navigate their way out. Gang-tae hoped and believed that he would be able to keep the secrets of the past to himself in order that all 3 of them could make a new start as a new entity. However, the past continues to haunt them unexpectedly. Someone who has detailed knowledge of what happened is determined to rake up the past and expose it. To what end? Why can't they let sleeping dogs lie? At this point in time we are led to believe that it's the head nurse who plastered the image of the butterfly on the wall which would beg the question as to her agenda in this entire sinister affair. The end of the episode sees her speeding off all made up with her hair down, dressed to the nines with the same butterfly brooch that Do Hui-jae often wore. This throws up new questions. What is her relationship to the Ko family? Whoever it was that painted the crude butterfly on Sang-tae's mural seems to be an agent of chaos determined that Mun-yeong and/or the Moon brothers remain in the wilderness a while longer even when they're doing their best to find their way out of it. 

My own view from the beginning was that Do Hui-jae was attempting to fashion Mun-yeong after her own image. Perhaps the famed mystery writer had been diagnosed with psychopathy at some point and was adamant that her daughter follow in her footsteps by taking every step to make her life a misery. Genetics be damned. Of course it's a very extreme example but there's a lesson there for parents everywhere: Children aren't a blank slate for parents to exploit and reimagine after themselves. Of course it would be easier for parents if their children did everything they wanted and turned out exactly the way they wanted. Mental clones falling off the family assembly line. That seemed to be the case for the mania patient Kwon Gi-do. He didn't fit the family mould and couldn't, so he rebelled to his detriment. 

It is worth mentioning that Mun-yeong became a writer too but not of (adult) crime fiction but of children's books. Although the mother's influence on the daughter was palpable, the daughter resisted and held on to a piece of her childhood that she remembers with fondness. The one time her father read Sleeping Beauty to her and called her a princess. It was the one time she felt loved and had a sense of belonging. Mun-yeong clung on to that memory like it was her lifeline to some semblance of sanity and it came through in her books which were a cry for help all these years. She was Sleeping Beauty who was waiting to be rescued. She was never an empty can but she was forced to be an empty can to be filled by her psychopathic mother. Except that she managed to salvage a sense of self and is now waking up to the possibilities of belonging to a loving family. 

This is in large part a show about people naturally gravitating towards families and forming their own families when the ones that birthed them fall short. It may be true (I haven't done the research admittedly) that mental health issues that plague our communities are predominantly (although not always) the result of dysfunctioning families. Child abuse reared its ugly head again today when the spotlight fell on the normally acerbic Yu Seon-hae reverting to her eight-year-old self. She suffers from dissociative personality disorder and her father shows up to cajole her into donating her liver. It seems rather galling (no pun intended) on some level that he would do this after abandoning her. Of course she doesn't want to as she suffered horrible abuse under her mother's hand and her father stood by and watched. In the end she was sold to a shaman because it was believed she was possessed by spirits.

Yu Seon-hae's story is meant to parallel that of Mun-yeong's. Two dads who stood by and did nothing. They failed to protect their daughters from their mothers' destructive influence. The thesis for this comparison is that those who stand by and do nothing while tragedy unfolds is worse than the one who inflicts the pain first-hand. The implication being that cowardice or indifference are among the worst of all sins because turning a blind eye gives oxygen and credibility to immorality. They are more culpable in that they remove all sense of hope for the vulnerable. In a world where bad things are a reality, the only hope for the victim is to experience justice. But it's doubly cruel to deny the victim their grievance their right to justice.

I don't want the show to take the easy route. It shouldn't because it would completely undermine its own messaging. Life is filled with tragedy. There is real evil in the world no matter what words we use to name it. Human beings do terrible, irreversible things to each other that have long-term ramifications, that do permanent damage. I don't want Do Hui-jae to turn out to be misunderstood especially after the fact that Ko Dae-hwan confessed to killing her in response to her cavalier behaviour about Gang-tae's mother's death. As far as the past is concerned there should be no deus ex machina. Because that would be consistent with the rest of the show. It would tie in with every other patient's individual arc. Ko Dae-hwan got no "last minute" reprieve even if his actions could be interpreted as being protective of his daughter. Mun-yeong didn't go to see him. He didn't ask for forgiveness and she didn't give him any. Perhaps his guilt was somewhat assuage in his confession. Still it's a bleak, existential universe where individuals wrestle their way through thorns and thistles to eke out a bit of meaning for themselves. There's no certainty that complete healing will be found by everyone before they "shuffle off their mortal coil". It would be cheating if Do Hui-jae was really a nice lady who was unfairly demonized by her husband and her daughter especially after the world-building that's taken place. It is possible that Park Heng-ja, the head nurse found her. It is possible she is impersonating Park Heng-ja. She could be a relative. Whatever the case maybe... I'm not especially concerned about that... the key thing is that Mun-yeong sees her as a haunting, painful, malevolent force.

Fairytales may have their happily-ever-after endings but before that can happen evil must be fought and overcome. From within and without. That's often forgotten. Happiness in this universe doesn't come without the battle scars to show for it. Dragons and deadly butterflies must be slain first. Gang-tae has begun to understand that. Happiness doesn't get served up on a silver platter and families don't just happen... they need to be made and protected. 

It's Okay not to be Okay: More on Episode 12 and Tone

This post contains possible spoilers. It assumes knowledge of the drama up to Episode 12.

It fascinates me that there are theories floating around the web suggesting that despite what we were given in Episode 12, Do Hui-jae, mother of Ko Mun-yeong, was not responsible for the death of Gang-tae and Sang-tae's mother. I certainly don't dismiss them in any form because the possibility always exists that the facts that we've been given thus far isn't the complete picture of what actually occurred. It's a strategy common to K dramas in order to spring surprises and undermine expectations. But what really got my attention is that many of the theories are predicated on the idea that it's too dark and depressing for a mother of one party in a canon pairing to have killed the other's mother. According to this line of thought, it portends a bleak future for the one true pairing and stifles their ability to have their happily-ever-after while being saddled with this inter-family homicide. As I reflect on the possibilities, my initial reaction would be... so why the reference to Romeo and Juliet?  Is the drama trolling us then? Is it a misdirection regarding the mystery around Do Hui-jae's disappearance or the endgame? I dunno. I tend to think that the Romeo and Juliet reference is meant to tell us something significant about the pairing's dynamic. My view based on what we've seen so far is that Gang-tae and Mun-yeong are meant to persevere through these kinds of insurmountable obstacles to forge their own future. It never occurred to me that the show would back down from the abyss that it's created by mitigating the circumstances under which Gang-tae's mother died.

It could be that I'm a simplistic sort of viewer (and I am) but I've always understood this drama to be shrouded in darkness practically from Day 1. Not only because of Mun-yeong's own violent tendencies and nightmares, or because of references to fairy/folk tales but because of the kind of books that she writes. The thing about Mun-yeong that I've always accepted as a given is that she is a grim angry female lead that breaks the K drama stereotype. That's what makes her unerringly intriguing to my mind. Her relationship with her mother always seemed to me rather dysfunctional. It is true that Do Hui-jae is an enigmatic figure still and it could be that her husband and her daughter are unreliable eye-witnesses. She could have been a sadly misunderstood creature. However, this doesn't really help me understand Mun-yeong's nightmares and upbringing. To my straightforward way of looking at things, it feels contradictory. I don't discount the fact that although Do Hui-jae might have been a psychopath and it doesn't necessarily follow that she killed Gang-tae's mother. That's certainly a possibility. But I want to know why in Mun-yeong's mind, Mother Dearest is such a tyrannical figure. A Maleficent type that invades her nightmares.

When I consider The Boy Who Fed on Nightmares and The Zombie Kid, in all honesty, I don't want the show to go the convenient route of justifying Do Hui-jae's parenting or softening her up to be a tragic and misunderstood figure at the 11th hour. For children's books, they are deeply disturbing. Both books come from dark places and go to dark places with very little light shining into the tunnel. There are no deus ex machina for the characters in these stories. In fact all of Mun-yeong's stories to date have no happy endings.

In so far as what the show itself has been doing, it has never backed away from dealing with difficult subject matters as far as what human beings do to each other, or what they do to themselves. Take Kan Pil-wan for example. The man has debilitating PTSD. He can't function in the real world because of his painful memories of the Vietnam War. He did kill people... that's not in question at all. He can't forgive himself even though he did it under orders in a combat situation. He's stuck. Or as he says himself, he's trapped in the past. What about the mother who was quarreling with her daughter before her daughter was killed in a car accident minutes later? There is no hidden letter from the daughter for instance to alleviate mother's suffering. Nothing that would soften the blow. It was an entirely regrettable situation that cannot be reversed or mitigated. The show was unerringly realistic about the mother's guilt and the consequences of what unfinished business does to people.

The world where It's Okay inhabits is a harsh and troubling one where people have to navigate through thorns and battle enchantresses or dragons.

I submit that there's an underlying existential tract in the show. Pain and suffering is real... whether it's what we do to ourselves or what others do to us. There's no getting away from that. But they don't have to define us or our future. We can incorporate our suffering as part of our arsenal and allow it to make us stronger... to give our lives meaning when meaning is lost to us a la The Boy Who Fed on Nightmares.

To me that's the lesson that the show wants to extrapolate from Romeo and Juliet. The pain and suffering... the senseless deaths... the feuding... all of that was idiocy and ultimately meaningless. There was no need for Mercutio, or Tybalt to take sides and die for their troubles. Both were loved ones of the couple. It was an utter waste of life in the scheme of things. Yet... the couple were able to move on from that because they prioritized their love for each other to try and forge a different future for themselves. Ultimately they failed but at least (according to the drama and maybe even Shakespeare) they tried to leave the past and all its baggage behind. This is what I see to be the significance of Gang-tae's decision to show up at the photo shoot in light of the Romeo and Juliet template. Despite the ugliness of the past, he doesn't have to be trapped by it because his love for Mun-yeong is much much bigger than the implication of the murder of his mother.

(If I'm pressed to speculate further, I'm inclined to think that Do Hui-jae is no longer among the living. She was killed by someone possibly not by her husband (possibly the head nurse) and then buried somewhere behind the cursed castle.)

It's Okay not to be Okay (2020) Episode 12

Romeo and Juliet is often touted as this great tragic romance between star-crossed lovers... an ill-fated encounter between a couple of young people thwarted by the sins of their fathers. But to cynical o'l me, the actual story is lesson in idiocy from start to finish. Beginning with the ridiculous feud between the Capulets and the Montagues... nobody even remembers what started it... to the Prince's mismanagement of said feud to sword altercations leading in death and the secret marriage. Everybody made such terrible choices that I don't wonder if Shakespeare meant for this to be a farce or satire. Of course there is literary value in the play. Many of the lines are pure poetry... the balcony scene for instance while others have become a fixture in the English language. For eg. "A plague on both your houses"

Of course these days Romeo and Juliet has become much more of a literary prototype for other tragic love stories of couples caught in the crossfire of opposing sides. It is a well-worn narrative trek in K drama plots especially of the melodramatic variety.

On some level it's not entirely far-fetched to insist that Gang-tae and Mun-yeong's predicament has parallels with the Bard's most famous love story. Gang-tae can hardly be blamed for feeling distraught that the mother of the woman he loves is very likely his mother's Butterfly Killer. What is he to do? He's much too involved and has made too many promises now to do a back flip. Indeed one could blame him if he did. Except that there would be plenty of hurt feelings and Mun-yeong would feel abandoned once again. Plot wise it feels as if a typical push-pull strategy is in the air. But the show doesn't quite go there. And this is why I have the utmost respect for this show. It lurches into melodramatic territory but it never wallows in it. Gang-tae punches a wall over recent revelations (he must vent somehow) but one thing that's different now is that he has a mentor and a confidante in Director O. 

It is part of his gradual reclamation of his own sense of self in this new dynamic that Gang-tae has the capacity to look beyond the devilish details to want something better for the three of them. Whether he is able to hold it together of course remains to be seen. There's little doubt that Gang-tae has been plunged into his abyss. It is a terrible secret for one man to carry on his own and yet we expect that secrets have a sneaky way of coming out into the open despite all best efforts. It's not what he believed he signed up for but there's no doubting that it was. As he himself acknowledged in this episode, he is a man drawn to challenging people and situations. In all of this and other bleak moments the show continues doing stellar things with the cursed castle trio. Each is on his/her own journey of growth... to be just that little bit better than what they were yesterday. Sang-tae's drawing which has become Mun-yeong's inspiration for her next book supports that assertion that all three are going somewhere. Whatever dark truths await them... these have to be faced separately or together as is reiterated by the reappearance of The Boy Who Fed on Nightmares. Nightmares are a given in this world. Suffering and pain are par for the course so rather than avoiding them, they should be confronted head on.

I've been wondering for a while what it is that's brought Kan Pil-wan (the director's favourite "mole") to the facility as a patient. On the surface he demonstrates a high level of affability and functionality. But he is unable to navigate in the "real world" because of the horrors he was a party to in Vietnam as a combatant. (I had no idea that Koreans were involved in Vietnam) The real world with its sights and sounds can't hold new possibilities because he is trapped in very specific old memories of it like the boy who fed on nightmares who eventually becomes the witch's plaything. In similar fashion, Kan Pil-wan may exist but he can't live meaningfully. It is no accident then that revelation of his PTSD and survivor's guilt intersected with Sang-tae's new found confidence as "an adult" and "older brother". I thought it was delightful that he was bragging to Ms Kang about what he'd done. Instead of being just someone who needs to be taken care of, he is now someone who can care for others. It clearly must have felt good on some level to have arrived at this place as a newly minted adult. This opened the door for him to talk about his trauma related to his mother's murder because of his realisation that he is stronger than he thought. He has now attained the resilience of adulthood and can now face up to his greatest fear. For Mun-yeong to call Jae-su for his advice instead of badgering Gang-tae as she might have previously, is also an incremental step in her learning how to deal with others on their terms, not just hers. It was a visible sign of growth now that she's part of a functional family.

Storytelling is powerful medium of communication. Not just to instruct or to reveal truths about the human condition... as the show has repeatedly done referencing well-loved folk tales. Everyone has at least one story to tell. The telling of their stories can be cathartic... as it compels us all to reflect on life, the universe and everything in it. It can provide a door to understanding someone else's motivations. It's an ancient form of interaction that continues to provide insight but shapes the way we see ourselves in the world we live. The Bible contains numerous stories rooted in historical events. Jesus told parables to his followers to help them understand God and the supernatural world. Moreover the stories about Jesus' doings have been preserved for posterity because of the underlying belief in his uniqueness. History is stories about the past. We study history for the purpose of learning from the past and hopefully to prevent the repeat of mistakes of the past. The show wants us to see that storytelling occurs at every level of life. When someone talks about their trauma or worst nightmare... it's done in the form of a story. When Jae-su counsels Mun-yeong about Gang-tae's modus operandi, he tells a story. When Lee Sang-in talks about his monthly event to keep his dad happy, he tells a story. That's why something like The Boy Who Fed on Nightmares can be a far more effective didactic tool than counselling. And as the drama has demonstrated all throughout, storytelling is a crucial part of counselling or what we often call "therapy" today.

The Romeo and Juliet story in its original was a tragic tale not of ill-fate but of poor choices. Judging from what is being done in the drama, I don't think it's just me that thinks that either. It's not that the titular characters were entirely devoid of personal agency or were victims of larger cosmic forces. The reality is that human beings often do thing for short-term gains and so undermine their own long-term self-interest as well as that of their loved ones. Gang-tae and Mun-yeong can't do much about the past. That's something out of their control. It's done. But what they have is the future to reshape if they have the courage to face the past and learn the right lessons from it.

It wouldn't surprise me with all the foreshadowing and hints if Mun-yeong and Sang-tae are indeed birth siblings. It causes me, not for the first time, to wonder what manner of woman Do Hui-jae really was. Was she really Maleficent in the lives of all the people she touched?

It's Okay not to be Okay (2020) Episode 11

This drama undoubtedly deserves all the praise that it gets because there is much to praise but the best part of it is the layered storytelling or to use a fairytale analogy... the princess and the pea storytelling. There are all these mattresses that sit atop the pea but the pea is unmissable because the core of the show never gets lost in all the cleverness. Even while the storytelling is smart in how it weaves together various elements, it retains its heart.

Elsewhere I noted that the drama follows the traditional monomyth -- the hero's journey. Gang-tae has embraced the call to adventure. He has crossed a number of thresholds. The latest is the acknowledgment that he can find a way to live with being his brother's brother as well as to love Ko Mun-yeong warts and all. He has had his mentors in the form of Ms Kang (Ju-ri's mother) and Dr Oh the quirky head psychiatrist from the mental health facility to aid him in this acceptance of this call to a move from the familiar. His latest challenge is to lead the way... to teach both Sang-tae and Mun-yeong how all three of them can co-exist. But first, the onus was always on him to make that decision to build a new family with Mun-yeong in tow.

The show hasn't disappointed so far because it demonstrates a respect for its characters despite lapses of judgment here and there. When challenged to make hard choices, they often choose the long-term best after a time of angst and deliberation. After a few missteps, Gang-tae learns very quickly that he must find a way of navigating his long-time relationship with his older brother while trying to locate his blossoming romance with Ko Mun-yeong in the overall scheme of things. It is heartening to hear Gang-tae admit to his closest and oldest friend that he is finally being himself. No one is making him act outside the script. After many years of self-denial and being on the run from an unseen threat, he is gradually living the way he wants to. It's clear to the people around him that change has come to him. Dr Oh notes that he is finally showing his "true colours". These new developments aren't about Ko Mun-yeong as such but primarily about Gang-tae broadening his horizons and redefining his relationship with his brother. He has no intention of abandoning his brother as he explains to Mun-yeong but it doesn't mean that he doesn't want one or can't have a relationship with Mun-yeong. As I've said this elsewhere, his dilemma wasn't an either or situation. That was always a false dichotomy. The unpredictability of life often calls for changes in relationship dynamics which may bring about different levels of discomfort in the short-term while the negotiations take place.

Mun-yeong is learning the benefits of eschewing instant gratification of her darker impulses. It's bleakly hilarious on some level to see her acknowledging the advantages of not stabbing Park Ok-ran, the escaped patient, who came to her place in the middle of the night because she realises the benefits of keeping her emotions under wraps. Especially when Gang-tae visits afterwards and confesses all over again. Like a child she needs to learn patience while dealing with Sang-tae who is navigating his own learning curve that his brother isn't his property to command at will. Luckily for her and the audience, Sang-tae manages to grasp a few home truths within the time limitations of the episode. Behind this is the assurance that he isn't losing his brother but gaining another family member.

Lee Sang-in is a bit of surprise package these days. Not only is he humorously likeable for the most part, he's demonstrating that he really does care about Mun-yeong. Maybe a change is as good as a holiday. I am particularly enjoying the way the show sets him up with Ju-ri because she needs to know the possibilities and what being liked by a man looks like. The problem with unrequited love, particularly in the way it is depicted in dramas, the person who is doing all the liking often tethers their self-esteem and identity to the object of their affections. She needs to know that Gang-tae not being interested in her romantically isn't personal...  it certainly isn't about any character deficiencies deficiencies. Because what one man can't see, is another man's delight. Lee Sang-in, if he does nothing else right in this drama proves that Ju-ri is a person well-worth liking.

Over time Andersen's The Ugly Duckling story has been interpreted in a couple of different ways. It's often recounted as a story about late bloomers and even as a parable about finding one's true place in the world. Here Gang-tae reinterprets a familiar tale often associated with childhood to teach and to exemplify to Sang-tae the human need to belong in families and for the elders of families to have that inclusive spirit. He also looks to Sang-tae's favourite cartoon character as an exemplar of this family maker.

It's Okay Not to be Okay (2020) First Impressions

It amuses me no end that I left a medical drama behind only to find myself in another. I had no indication of that from the trailers that I saw. To be honest it didn't matter all that much what this was about as I came to it because of Kim Soo-hyun. Thankfully these first two episodes show a great deal of promise.

The premise of the show seems to be centered around an almighty clash between a nursing aide who is also caring for his autistic brother and a children's book author with ASPD. From the Burtonesque preamble we are led to assume that the two had a childhood encounter. A well-worn Kdrama track. However, what's different here is that the memory is not a pleasant one.

What I took away from the trailers that I saw was a strong Great Expectations vibe. And even after two episodes, the feeling remains. It's not a deal breaker just an observation largely of the lead female character and the glimpses we have to her backstory.

There's a lot to like in this but it's the characterization of both the leads that's really at the heart of things. It's always gratifying to see shows break the mould in fascinating ways especially with regards to the female stereotypes. My suspicion about the female lead here, Mun-yeong is that she's more a monster made than hardwired that way. She seems to me a lonely soul with a larger than life persona to shoulder in search of someone who can cope with her idiosyncrasies. I think Gang-tae intrigues her because he doesn't play her game or dance to her tune. It's both a challenge... to see if she can break him most probably and a need for meaningful companionship. I believe that she does want him to succeed on some level... for him to be found "worthy" after all the testing because she needs to know that there's someone in this bleak world that can cope with her claws and thorns. This is particularly important for someone like her who has no profound connections in her life. To know that there's someone who don't mind taking hits for her is likely her holy grail. More than that, she is aware that there's no one who really cares about her. It's merely transactional. She does what she wants to and gets away with it not only because she has a "disorder" but she commands the loyalty of people who want something from her. Maybe Manager Lee does care about her because he does put up with a lot but maybe he's just in it for material benefits.

I can't help speculating that she's been the subject of a rigorous behaviourist experiment. That's where the Great Expectations angle comes in. It feels like there is/was a Miss Havisham controlling her from a scene of her standing on a balcony in a location surrounded by torn drapes. That reminds me of Satis House. And then there's the gorgeous wardrobe... which also shouts "look at me I'm outrageous". There's also something about her behaviour that leads me to conclude that she's a deliberate caricature. She scares kids who are her bread and butter. She plays with knives. She lashes out. But then there's this vigilante streak: She stabs bad men because they deserve it. Where does this sense of justice come from? I'm not entire convinced her ASPD is a case of "born like this". She's comes across as someone who is trying to play a witch because she's read all the right books when she's probably not really one. On some level she's probably having fun being unconventional. Although I sense fatigue as well.

The contradictions in her character are curious. I imagine that's what the attraction for Gang-tae might be. In a medical drama he is the archetypal Caregiver but with battle scars. He is drawn to the weird, needy and dangerous people. He jumps into a fray without hesitation. The operative word here being "giver". Maybe it's innate. Maybe it has become a force of habit from looking after his brother. Whatever it is, it has become an all-consuming occupation for him. Whether or not he is gainfully employed as a caregiver, it is what he defaults to.

So it's deeply moving and really sweet when Sang-tae, his autistic older brother, tells him that they should go home and that he'll be the one looking after him. For the longest time he has been giving giving giving and running running running. It must be exhausting. Despite being such an obvious archetype, his energy fascinates me. I keep wondering how he manages to keep it all under control, what is it that he wakes up to every morning. Is it just his brother that he's living for?

But surprisingly I think, underneath all that niceness, lurks a renegade. On some level he isn't that different from her. His life can't be said to be conventional by any stretch of the imagination. He definitely doesn't do safe. He lives life like he has nothing to lose. Just like her. I don't believe he's a coward as he thinks he is but he's so used to running that he doesn't know what else to do.

As I've mentioned elsewhere I find the literary references noteworthy. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland was certainly highlighted literally in blazing lights. Heh. Hans Christian Andersen's The Red Shoes. The red shoes also made me think of Dorothy's ruby slippers from Wizard of Oz, her ticket to going home. The Boy Who Fed on Nightmares which is the in-house literary resource seems to be based on the Faustian pact. The boy who makes a deal with a witch to be free from his nightmares only to find that he's not happier for it. When the time comes, she takes his soul away. I'd also certainly be very keen to see if the Great Expectations vibe continues throughout the drama.

Because we're told that this is a healing drama, I find The Boy Who Fed On Nightmares a pivotal key to unlocking the philosophical underpinnings of the show. It's not just about facing traumas head on but about incorporating pain and suffering in one's toolkit to dealing with everything that life throws at you. In short, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. In order to mature, one has to first experience suffering. It's not a deeply original idea. But it is an idea that does have currency especially in such times that we live. However, just from a cursory of observation of people, it's clear that pain and suffering by themselves don't make anyone happier. It can but it can also destroy lives and minds. It's an existentialist proposition. The book doesn't address a cure or the element of hope. It seems to be all about memory. "Remember it all and overcome it" The implication is that memory is the cure rather than the problem.