Reviews

If this mini-series were a Beatles song, it would be "Everybody's Got Something to Hide 'Cept for Me and My Monkey."

This reminds me of "Macbeth," in that everybody's guilty of something and/or cynical or too self-absorbed to realize their actions are criminal. One of the least blame-worthy characters even commits a crime to protect someone she thinks is innocent, and she does not think she's a good person.

This uses a lot of fragmentation of time to tell the story of two violent crimes in a non-linear way. If you don't know Korean*, some of the nuance may be lost in translation and result in confusion, but there's a great degree of intrinsic confusion to the narrative, I think it's worth watching several times just to see where I missed clues the time before, and also because it's a lovely bit of storytelling.

The lead character, tough, whip smart Miss Lee (the "She" in the Englist title, and "Miss Lee" in the Korean title), is played by Kang Sung-Yeon. The last thing i saw her in, she played an insufferably virtuous damsel in distress, and that character really got on my nerves, so it was refreshing to see her play a well fleshed out complicated human being. All the characters are that well written.

*I don't *know* Korean, but I've picked up enough to recognize words like "bro (hyung)" and "sis (unni)" which can indicate literal older sibling of yhe same sex or pal whom the speaker regards as an older sibling. Neither one is translated as bro or sis in the English subtitles, but as "you" or the person's name, thus depriving a non-Korean speaker of some clues.

A beautiful mess, completely constructed around plot holes. What happens when teen romance comic book supporting characters become self-aware? It's an emotional rollercoaster, like real-life adolescence is, itself, as well as a comment on the nature of reality.

The music is a character, poignantly reminding us that adolescence is not about superficiality, even as the kids get up to a fair amount of stereotypical high school goofiness.

The embedded comments on the nature of reality sneak up in the form of kaleidoscopic changes to the main character's (an extra in the comic book who rebels against her fate) school uniform that don't seem to show up on anyone else. (I'll have to watch again).

The explicit theme of an unseen cosmic force negating free will and the defiance of individuals against it is the one consistent character-driven plot thread.

it throws almost every Kdrama cliché into the story: Amnesia, half-sibling rivalry, life-threatening illness, not one but two love triangles, school bullying, marriages of convenience, class conflict, plus a big dose of time travel. THIS IS NOT NECESSARILY A BAD THING, especially since all of these tropes are dealt with self-referentially.

It sure takes its time making its point that there may be no point, but least it does so beautifully.

No spoilers. The reason I gave it a 9 and not a 10 is the last episode forced a lot of loose ends to be tied up somewhat hastily and implausibly. It could have benefited from three more episodes to maintain the dramatic tension and the integrity of the plot. That said, the other 20 episodes did not disappoint.

Korean jurisprudence differs from that of the U.S., so it may take a few episodes for an American viewer to understand what the characters' roles are on the Incheon Public Safety Prosecution team that is the centerpiece of this story. I'm still not entirely clear on how they were able to stay on the cold case homicide that is central to the plot, not even counting the obstructions thrown in their way by shadowy figures in the fictitious chaebol (megacorporation), Hwa Yeong.

I find myself watching this repeatedly, looking for clues hidden in plain sight that I'd missed previously. It's in Korean, a language I don't know, with English subtitles. I've been watching on broadcast TV and a couple different online platforms, and the style and quality of the subtitling varies from one platform to another, so that's also a driving factor in me watching it repeatedly. However, the main reason for me to watch it more than once, is that it's eminently watchable.

The cinematography and editing are more like a movie than a TV drama. The performances are terrific, especially Choi Min-Soo as the lead characters' boss, Mun Hui-Man. The music complements the visuals, the script and the acting superbly.

My only caveat with this show is make sure you have the time to give it your full attention. Your commitment will be amply rewarded if you do. If you don't, you may find yourself hopelessly confused.

On a scale of full-sun to trapped-inside-a-coffin-smothered-in-burnt-toast, this is as dark as comedy gets. Kind of a modern-day retelling of Chekhov's "The Seagull," with Michael Keaton's character standing in for most of the major roles in Chekhov's story. That's a lot of crazy for one guy to absorb.

Who would dig it? Anyone who's ever worked in the theatre, people who can't abide NYC cultural snobbery, people who find Hollywood types annoying, people struggling with or recovering from co-dependent relationships, Orson Welles fans, whom am I leaving out?

Who probably *shouldn't* see it? Suicidal or reality-challenged people. There's just a little too much romance with self-slaughter. The film makes its comedy bones on really bleak and sometimes cringe-worthy situations. There are only four flat-out sight gags that I counted, and even those aren't cheap laughs.

I gave it a 9, only because I don't think there was enough of Lindsay Duncan's character's arc to power her conflict with Michael Keaton's character. Duncan was terrific, as usual, even with such a limited amount of screen time.

Re-watching this 10 years after seeing it the first time and 31 years after it was made, with more Japanese under my belt, I don't see a fundamental stylistic difference between the humor in this movie from that of "Battle Royale." There's just a shift in emphasis. Both movies are equally misanthropic and mordantly satirical. I get the feeling that the core of both is a disappointed wish to find something lovable about at least two people and a hope that they connect with each other without screwing things up too badly. There's a lot about the three principal characters-- Ginshirô, Yasu and Konatsu--that is cringe-worthy that, if you don't buy it as satire, will repulse you. I get the feeling that Fukasaku couldn't have cared less about audience discomfort. Of course, if you're a nihilist, it won't make you squirm, at all.