Run On (2020 - 21) Episodes 13 and 14

To be frank, I have mixed feelings about the two recent episodes. Episode 13 more than 14. In fact I would probably go so far as to say that 14 renders a lot of the Mi-joo induced angst unnecessary. I don't object to angst on principle. There's a time (and place) for everything even in storytelling. Lessons can be learnt from trials and tribulations but Episode 13 felt like a filler episode (at least for the primary couple)  in light of 14 and something of a head-scratcher for me personally. They patched things up rather quickly and then went straight for the bedroom. I'm a little hot and bothered because of what the show is saying about Mi-joo more specifically. I never thought the temporary separation was even necessary even if Mi-joo has deep-seated abandonment issues because Seon-gyeom has been nothing but dedicated and reassuring. Why use such a trite parental objection trope in a show like this to create this seemingly artificial obstacle that is meant to generate tension for the briefest of moments?

I should be relieved. It could have been a lot worse. We could have had a lot more of Assemblyman Dad's frustrating meddling. He's certainly successful in driving his entire family up the proverbial wall while gleefully thinking that everything is within the palm of his hand as he sets his sights firmly on the Blue House. He's a veritable nuisance but a nuisance whose agenda has been clear. He wants things, people stand in the way so he maneuvers his way as is his custom as a man in politics. In that regard he's been consistent. 

So why did Seon-gyeom and Mi-joo have to be saddled with a faux break-up only to reconcile within an episode? I have my suspicions in that regard. Perhaps it's to allow the other coupling time to catch up in terms of character development. For a show that has been clever and witty, the temporary setback seems like a concession to those who need some kind of makjang to satisfy their Kdrama checklist. Otherwise it's a detour that feels out of sync with the rest of the storyline. More importantly it suggests to me that Dad's interference wasn't that big a deal... certainly it didn't warrant giving us a morose and mopey Seon-gyeom.

I've been playing a board game called Tokaido with the kids. It's a visually pleasing work of art that sees the participants sauntering through the road from Kyoto to Edo in old Japan as tourists. The aim is to collect as many victory points along the way as possible in order to be the one who has the best time ie. to win. One can do this by donating money to the temple, shopping for souvenirs, having nice local cuisine, jumping in the hot springs, meeting people and enjoying the scenery. It's a simple game except for the fact that you can only go forwards and you can't go on to a space (unless stipulated) that someone else has already occupied. Because of that rule it can be a profoundly frustrating experience and that's where being strategic and/or easy-going can be helpful.

This is how I read Run On. It's not a convoluted story. So far it doesn't pretend to be although there are moments where the temptation to veer off in that direction is there. That said, some of the characters arguably lead complex lives. Da-na is definitely one of those. Seon-gyeom, is quite possibly another. Being offsprings from wealthy households tend to do that to someone. The more you have, the more is demanded of you apparently. Mi-joo from what I've seen especially in these last 2 episodes likes to think her life is more complex than it really is. I suspect she's deliberately written this way because there is no where else the show can really take her otherwise. Added to that she has a love of the dramatic because it's an escapist mechanism for a lonely life. Clearly there's a tug-of-war going on inside of her. She is drawn to confrontational moments (because she sees herself as the underdog as well as a champion for those who fit in that category) and yet at the first sign of trouble she retreats. Why? Because it's just plain easier to go along with the status quo than to negotiate a place at the table. I struggle a lot with Mi-joo's characterization particularly in Episode 14 because for some reason she comes across inauthentic as someone trying too hard to be the star of her own show.

The conversation between Ji-woo and her husband the assemblyman is very telling. She's determined to be her own woman and to her credit she's never pretended that she's been any kind of maternal caregiver or wife. Her priority has always been her career and its maintenance but as her husband's ambitions reach new heights, the simplicity of sticking to her lifelong goals has come under full-scale attack. She's threatened to pull out of the game (divorce) but that's not an option for a man who thinks he's in a winning position. It isn't just some kind of clash over aspirations either. Certain underlying assumptions have been present in that dynamic from the start. She was an actress who married for love and gave the man she loved a family. However, he married in large part to grow his political career over time. In the past he could have let her have her career to humour her and I don't doubt he saw advantages to marrying a celebrity. But now, her career aspirations are increasingly a problem. While it makes for some delightful farce, those are core existential issues being contested. She represents rugged individualism and he represents conventional wisdom about family roles. Whence shall the twain meet?

In recent days Mi-joo feels like such a underdeveloped character compared to say, Da-na. What's also obvious is that her romance with Seon-gyeom has very little narrative meat so much so that someone saw fit to inject an overused makjang trope to the mix to create tension. All that really happened between them was that they went backwards and then moved slightly forward. And I question now if moving backwards was really even necessary because the consummation of their relationship lost something of the anticipated impact. I would go so far as to add "jarring" to the list of impressions I experienced. 

I probably sound like a broken record using the word "unnecessary" yet again but that's how I felt about the push and pull of 12 and 13. It was unnecessary precisely because all the cards had been put on the table as far as Mi-joo and Seon-gyeom were concerned. Whereas in the case of Da-na and Yeong-hwa, the mountain that they've had to climb is far higher and the terrain much more challenging parents not withstanding. Da-na's antisocial tendencies are humorous because she elevates herself above social norms with that slightly confused look on her face. She might be a parody but she doesn't know that she is.

The characters of the drama are undoubtedly wrestling for agency in this battleground of agendas, ideals and aspirations. On the surface, there's an acknowledgement that rocking the boat isn't worth the trouble and yet due to circumstances out of their control they keep doing it. To my mind the Tokaido metaphor works really well. Everyone wants to get somewhere fairly specific but there are impediments -- mostly other people who also have objectives but they are most inconveniently in your way. This could be parents, politicians and rivals. However, there is something called timing also. What can't be achieved immediately might be achieved later on down the road with a bit of calculation and strategic utilization of the rules. Roadblocks are inevitable in everyone's journey and smart gamers, I suppose, know how to make the road blocks work for them rather than to see them as purely obstacles.

With so much left to resolve, I'm of the view that these more recent episodes dabbled in far too much noise. I imagine what we're seeing are the usual third act issues where all the threads will at best be tied up hurriedly.

Edited to add:

After some reflection, a potential fanfic made its way into my ruminations. I would rejig the end of Episodes 12, much of 13 and even 14. Instead of Assemblyman Dad bullying Mi-joo and making her cry, a more Machiavellian thing to do would be to engage an intermediary to offer her a job as an interpreter/translator interstate or overseas. Because that dilemma would be far more convincing. The temptation to walk away from would have weight. She might take the job because it's a once in a lifetime opportunity and then the break-up (or the impracticalities of long-distance romancing). After all it's practically a mantra that her job is really important to her and that she values herself. The scenario will really force the hand of an independent working woman. And it's not ridiculously makjang. More importantly it's actually consistent with the rest of the storyline and avoids a Kdrama cliche entirely.

Run On (2020 - 21) A Matter of Agency

It is a truth universally acknowledged that in every K drama populated by characters of considerable means that there has to be at least one unlikeable parent stirring the waters, strutting their stuff. Whether or not the parent/s in question believe/s that he or she is undesirable, they are a constant thorn in the side for the other players.

In a South Korea that's gradually transforming, the likes of Assemblyman Dad is being stealthily rendered irrelevant in a world where the individual and personal choices is fast becoming a la mode. Conventions that he has clung to for much of his life is gradually being called into question by his own children. He is caught between the old world of which he was a progeny and increasingly it seems that a new one that might not have a place for him. Assemblyman Ki is a fearful soul who reflexively senses that the ground from under him is shifting and he's losing control. He's ill-equipped for this brave new world in which the young don't toe the line and reject the intervention of their elders in the fine details of their lives. It's a lonely and frightening place particularly for a man who has played by the old rules his entire life. So he lashes out predictably.

It's not a pretty moment when Ki Jeong-do finally fronts up at Mi-joo's place and blurt out his threats. While she puts on a brave front, he successfully shakes her resolve which has already been weakened by the knowledge of Dad's behind the scenes activities. Behind a close door, her bravado quickly collapses. The reality is that while Mi-joo likes her dramas on the screen, she is ill-equipped to deal with them when she's dragged into a fray where she might be the tragic leading lady. Romance, in her mind, shouldn't have to be this hard. It shouldn't have to be a battleground of wills when all she wants is to hold hands, kiss and watch movies. She craves the simple life out of the spotlight except that the man she likes comes with a ton of baggage in tow. Plus the spotlight follows him everywhere. That's what is commonly meant, I think, when they say that "love is not enough". My feeling whenever that's invoked, love is seldom what's meant here but "good intentions". If that's the case, that's probably truth in that. Intentions and feelings can only take you so far but when the trials emerge (as they surely will), real actual effort is necessary. No one achieves any proper goals without hard work. The question to the individual at the centre of this tragicomedy boils down to this... is this something worth fighting for? 

Mi-joo could be naive in believing or stating that she alone should take care of things. Of course it could be deliberately provocative, high minded speech to make Seon-gyeom go away. But it's ultimately untenable especially as he's already given his promises to persist. Nobody can tackle life on their own.  It can also be the easy way out to avoid dealing with some deep-seated issues. Far be it for me to play the schoolmaster here but I do think she's being a tad unfair to him. That said, I'm not unsympathetic to her predicament -- I've been there myself on some level -- but I don't think this is something she can decide on her own. There will be other challenges ahead. The comfort zone is named as such for good reason. There is safety but there's no growth... no build up of stamina to deal with the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Fights once chosen (hopefully wisely) need to be embarked on with single-mindedness and strength of will.

That's why the training metaphor that pervades the show helpfully guides us in thinking about the storyline. Training isn't only applicable to sports but all areas of life. To maximize what life has on offer and to stand firm against the storms of life, training is vital. Personal choice has to be accompanied by taking responsibility for the consequences of that choice. Given her former attitude Assemblyman Dad should be irrelevant. Even if he's not a threat there will be some other challenge or obstacle awaiting Mi-joo. This is one fight she's not meant to handle on her own.

It's telling that Woo Sik is making huge strides in his recovery partly because he has Seon-gyeom by his side coaching and helping in his rehabilitation. And the added presence of Young-pil in his life undoubtedly helps. But he is progressing because of the training. This is in contrast to Mi-joo who is struggling alone. Her job isolates her from what goes on outside anyway and the hours she keeps ensures that her physical training can't be maintained regularly. Furthermore hearing that Assemblyman Dad is keeping tabs on her frightened her into her shell which ensured that she was ill-prepared to deal with the blowback that was coming her way.

It is commendable that she doesn't want to be the source of conflict or division in that family. But the truth of the matter is that the fissures were already there. The discontent was bubbling underneath the surface. Only in Ki Jeong-do's domineering deluded mind could the family be considered a happy one. As long as he was happy with how things were going, this presumably meant that all was well with the world. From everyone else's perspective, it was clear that something rotten was already brewing in Denmark from the start.

Da-na and Yeong-hwa's push and pull comes from a place of reluctance and uncertainty. From the outside it looks to be an unequal relationship and one that might not go anywhere. But what Yeong-hwa lacks in wealth and/or status, he makes up for in determination and playfulness. The negotiation process is humorous but it makes sense that he actively avoids being on the losing end or the at the very least the one who has to shoulder all the suffering or inconveniences of being in a relationship with her. In other words, what he really wants is a little give and take. Some show of vulnerability. If there's any "losing" to be had, they should both experience their fair share of it.

It seems to me that Yeong-hwa is good for Da-na because he is a ray of sunshine in her otherwise sterile, bleak existence of routine and family dysfunction. She's running a successful agency but he's meeting a need in her otherwise lonely life.

Run On (2020 -21)

At long last... a K rom com I can get excited about. Hallelujah. I've caught up with all 6 episodes and haven't felt the urge to FF or drop it. In fact, I eagerly await the coming episodes. Will the leads continue their gentle push and pull or will they take the plunge and go with the flow? It's been obvious since the beginning they're not destined "just to be friends".  To be frank, I don't think the show does anything original but its merits lie in the characters being likeable and humorously depicted. Unfiltered. Better still, I'm seldom bored by the antics of all concerned even if they faintly resemble some character I've seen somewhere else. It's always nice that a show is smart enough not to take itself too seriously

Although the chemistry and set-up of both sets of major pairings work for me, the real star of this drama is the dialogue. It's almost as if the drama speaks with one voice through differently modulated microphones. Sometimes it's the purely random gems that fall out of characters mouths unfiltered. At other times it's a humorous understated but catty bickering especially between the women. On other occasions, it's the matter-of-fact frustration of Seon-gyeom who blurts things out with a straight face. Maybe he can start playing poker now that he's officially unemployed. On some level it seems to be doing something different but then on another, it's really just an old fashioned rom com remixed with 21st century verbiage. One gets the sense that everyone knows they're playing a role in this farce... in the original sense of the word... there's more than a little nudge, nudge, wink, wink in those irresistible pearls of self-expression. Especially in the form of Soo-yeong's Da-na. She's smart, she's sassy and she seems to enjoy playing the sociopath. I suppose it's a survival mechanism, a cry for attention and a demand for respect from certain quarters... close to home.

Seon-gyeom who's a non-conformist male lead, is wired in a completely different way. He seems to on the one hand have a martyr complex because of his perceived privilege but on the other hand, I do think there is something wonderfully genuine at the core of his dilemma. His manners are impeccable and he's a veritable sweetheart. He wants to change... not the world... but how his particular niche does business. Maybe it's the way Im Shi-wan plays the character with unmitigated earnestness. Rather than being a truth seeker, he's in search of authenticity. It's no accident that Oh Mi-joo mutters to herself that he is Peter Pan because in a real enough way he is the boy that hasn't grown up. His life until the bullying scandal has largely revolved around competitive running but by the time we get to Episode 6, he's out in the real world mixing it with other bodies that aren't athletes. It's a whole new ball game he must navigate to find his raison d'etre. The question that follows him as he ventures out in the great unknown is this: Is there life after the track?

To help him make sense of this brave new world, isn't his very public family or his former agency but interpreter and translator, Oh Mi-joo. Mi-joo who purports to be more worldly-wise lives with her friend May and has no family. It's clear early on that Mi-joo and Seon-gyeom are attracted to each other but for one reason or another they've held back. Mi-joo's initial excuse could be a reluctance to mix business with pleasure and Seon-gyeom wants to be get a lot closer but feels vaguely rebuffed. Their repartee might seem desultory on the surface but the words gradually come to hold deeper meaning for both as they interact in all kinds of troubling (sometimes comedic) dramatic contexts.

Part of the charm of the primary leads is their unerring directness with each other. There's an always that sense of unpredictability in how they respond to each other. The confrontation outside his hotel room where he asks her about being paid by his father to "keep an eye on him" was especially well played. It was done with surprising calmness. The show chooses its lighter tone by eschewing the histrionics. She anticipates his response and resigns herself to the fact that it marks the end of any kind of future interactions. Except that it doesn't. Except that she gave back the money and consistently takes it on the chin that she took a bribe from Despicable Dad. Why? Perhaps she doesn't want to excuse herself or make herself out to be a better person than she feels that she is. She perceives herself as the grown-up that takes responsibility for her actions.

Episode 6 sees the two embroiled in a cohabitation scheme. A familiar and well-used romance trope that seldom feels old. Seon-gyeom emerges from his hiding place in his grandfather's hotel and gets willingly conned into moving into Mi-joo and May's place after hearing a cock and bull story about a neighbourhood mugger. I want to pinch his cheeks for his cluelessness in taking things seriously but I'm sure after that jogging session with Mi-joo, he's won't be too unhappy at being white-lied to. Mi-joo is strangely aloof at first, keeping to her room and odd working hours until she is reminded that there's an attractive young man taking solace in her living room dying to spend more time with her. When Mi-joo comes to her senses, the two head off to the beautiful rural Korean countryside to recruit his former coach to take up the coaching position for a non-profit. Mi-joo makes her drunken backhanded confession and he makes his matter-of-fact response of mutual attraction but she finally succumbs to the effects of alcohol.

The plot thickens for Da-na and her art student, Lee Young-hwa. She's intrigued by his artwork and for a busy person who plays up the role of someone who is above it all, she seems unusually fascinated. He is unabashedly smitten at first sight and takes her prickliness all in his stride. She amuses him and he humours her. It's all part of the charm for him. Young-hwa is also responsible for cheekily and randomly throwing up a piece of my childhood with the ET reference when he meets Seon-gyeom for the second time. This time they're at the supermarket. It might not be that random of course because it's the drama saying that Seon-gyeom is an oddity ... a fish out of water... an alien that doesn't belong in this world that the so-called adults inhabit and make their sandbox. Seon-gyeom doesn't do politics or business as usual. 

The potential pairing between Da-na and Young-hwa feels like a modern K production of The Taming of the Shrew. When she patronizes him (in all senses of the word), he plays along and toys with her. It's  water off a duck's back, Yeong-hwa takes it one step at a time. He knows that compared to her he's a penniless student but that's no deterrence. In fact, he savours the challenge. Besides, he has something she wants. Something that her conspicuous wealth can't buy. He's also perceptive enough to see through a bit of her haughty rich girl act. 

The rich people's families here are deliberately dysfunctional. They suffer from the usual rich people's malaise. Seon-gyeom is routinely reduced to a prop for his father's political ambitions and Da-na's half siblings have more dollars than sense. Myung-min constructs her as his rival for the family coffers. Tae-woong is ridiculously possessive. Her father, on the other hand, wants her married off despite all her protestations. It seems to be a hobby of his.

Assemblyman Ki is the typical K drama Despicable Dad. Except that he is cartoony at the edges. In other words, he is a caricature. He is the stereotype to a T and he is being gently mocked not only by his long-suffering unreligious spouse but the show itself. He seems to have stepped out of a Charles Dickens novel. His religious zealotry isn't just a role he plays for his electorate, it also blinds him to the extent that he cannot be the husband or father that his family needs him to be. His wife, the actress, plays along to keep the peace but to her credit she doesn't pretend that she's Mother of the Year. At least she knows that she's on display, playing the roles that she's been designated by life to do so.