Some TP readers think I have a hair fixation since I tend to harp on the subject in my recaps or reviews. But the truth is I don’t notice hairdos unless they are weird or downright awful.
Take Emperor of the Sea which I’ve been watching spellbound the last two days. Nine episodes in (and forty-two to go), I’m in love with the story and soundtrack, and awed by the production values. But then Choi Su-jong appears (and the guy has a lot of screen time since he’s the lead) and I’m once again distracted by that THING which is supposedly hair but looks more like shredded rags hastily stitched together.
Ten-year-old Lee Woo-jin prefers to be called Andrew; it’s the name that his mother gave to him when he was baptized as an infant.
But no one calls him Andrew now. Not his uncle and aunt, the latter spitting out “Woo-jin” as though it’s a dead roach that had somehow found its way into her mouth. The sheer disgust. Years later he will learn that “Woo-jin” is a marriage of two names: his father’s Soo-jin, and his father’s best friend, Myung-woo. Perhaps one day he will learn, too, that both men loved his mom. And that both men married her.
For the past few days, a friend and I have been talking about dramas and why some mediocre ones move us, worming their way into our hearts despite decidedly lousy writing, directing and even acting. In contrast, an exquisitely filmed drama might wow us intellectually, but it does not make our hearts quiver in anticipation nor does it leave an ache that takes months to go away. Why do we fall in love with certain dramas when others scoff at it, giving it ratings as low as two out of ten?