Casting is Key

The track record of popular anime/manga series being adapted into live action film and tv shows is a checkered one at best. The odds are that of a lottery when an overseas production team puts its hand to the plough and do their “remakes”. So when news spread that this iconic, long-running manga story was being adapted by Netflix, I couldn’t summon much enthusiasm for it. A tiny bit of curiosity perhaps but not a lot of confidence. Still the official trailer gave me the impression that it might not be quite as appallingly awful as Cowboy Bebop was and might even *shock, horror* capture the essence of the source material. Moreover the technology is certainly available in this day and age to do the series justice.

It might be a bit of a stretch to say to say that I belong to a One Piece family. But it’s not far off. My offspring follow the manga conscientiously and they’re all up to date with both the manga and the anime. I’ve seen hundreds of episodes of the anime (lost count) and I think the other half is far more ahead of the game than I am. All that to say, we pretty much know the characters and the lore. And maybe I might have something worthwhile to say.

My initial thoughts about this adaptation is that it’s a solid effort. It does a better than serviceable job in adhering to the spirit of the original. It's unabashedly whimsical, goofy and cheesy. And considering the terrible remakes on Netflix of late, this is surprisingly faithful. The casting has to be absolutely one of the highlights. The main characters like Luffy, Zoro, Nami and Usopp are well cast. Everyone in my clan loves the actor, Mackenyu, donning the bandana as Zoro. He couldn’t be more perfect for the role. More than that he seems to know his way around a katana. Or three. Inaki Godoy is rather good as Luffy, capturing his boyish enthusiasm and occasional cluelessness about the realities of life. Sanji is a little on the bulkier side than his anime counterpart but I'm not complaining too much.

One Piece at its core is a superhero-martial arts story where the characters sail around from place to place recharging, making new friends and battling powerful villains to level up. In that regard it’s not unlike a video game. I suspect that Eiichiro Oda was partly inspired by Marvel’s superhero Reed Richards when he designed the original concept of Luffy. In the anime he’s my favourite because he keeps me reliably amused. Furthermore the series demonstrates that it is well-acquainted with the golden age of piracy. As the Straw Hats’ notoriety reach newer heights, the greater the bounty on their “wanted” posters. It has a strongly libertarian streak running right through it and the pirates are the epitome of that spirit of freedom, for good or ill. Not all are ambassadors of goodwill like the Straw Hat crew and certainly not the dubious World Government which is the arbiter of law and order in those turbulent waters. Part of what the Straw Hats do is help inhabitants of these islands and villages regain their autonomy from minor and major tyrants taking a leaf out of the book of twentieth century dictators.

The decision to make the look and feel of this enterprise quirky in the manner of Tim Burton pays off here. Though Eiichiro Oda draws on historical events and figures, the One Piece universe is still a fantastical world where good versus evil is centrestage to some familiar locations populated by a parade of mythological races, bizarre personalities with the most unlikely abilities. There’s a sense that Alice has fallen down the rabbit hole one more time and it’s a brave new world that seems inviting on the surface but harbours a foreboding savagery in its underbelly.

Aside from the pacing, my other nitpick with this is the lack of spectacular rubber Luffy moves. While they’ve kept his personality more or less intact, his fight scenes don’t seem as exuberant or hilarious as they are in the anime. This is always my biggest beef with adaptations — the humour and action sequences don’t always transfer over well. That said, Luffy’s most important asset as it were, is his ability to inspire loyalty and affection everywhere he goes. Despite being on the naive side, he also has an uncanny ability to surround himself with the right kind of people and see past the facade. It is an achievement in and of itself that he is able to bring an arrogant loner like Zoro and an untrusting cynic like Nami into the fold despite all their protestations. The fact that the live action is able to bring that crucial factor to the forefront does check off a very important box.

Obviously the fact that the mangaka onboard is a producer on this is why this project hasn’t been a disaster. The most illogical thing they could do in the current climate is to disrespect a beloved IP and antagonize generations of fans worldwide in order to appeal to a politically correct crowd. No production house in their right minds would do that, surely?

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An Unexamined Life

A young graduate (Seo In-guk) doing it very tough in the existential scramble for jobs, has come to the end of his tether. After several years of juggling part-time jobs and not achieving that holy grail — a corporate position at Taekang Group — he concludes that his life has been an absolute failure. From the top of a high rise, he takes the plunge, ends his life, leaving behind a loving single mother and his longtime ex-girlfriend. It is important to note that his despair is exacerbated by a particularly bad day that culminates in a break-up with his girlfriend which he initiates after seeing her with another man. One thing after another he believes that his death is the solution to all his problem and will end all the agony that paralyzes him. That is until he wakes up and finds himself in a kind of purgatorial location face to face with Death herself played by a suitably menacing Park So-dam. This begins a drawn out debate between Death and our protagonist about the value of his life and life in general.

I went into this not knowing much except the bare essentials and on hindsight the surprises increased my engagement with the plot. The element of surprise pumps an extra layer of enjoyment as there are plenty of thrills in the offing especially in the first 4 episodes aka Part 1. Be warned: It’s not for the faint-hearted. The crime elements are unyielding in this and there’s bloody violence all about in precarious situations. If violence is no barrier to entry, this can be an amazing adrenaline rush as the viewer embarks on this seemingly convoluted journey of discovery with Yee-jae who reluctantly… and often defiantly takes on each challenge to prove his case.

From the perspective of a seasoned viewer, it’s undoubtedly one of the more creative K drama endeavours I’ve seen in awhile. The plotting here is everything. On the surface it appears to be just another one of those transmigration stories that have become K drama staple but from the way it blends genres, it’s a superior work of art to all the others.

The other highlight has got to be the top tier cast. Plenty of familiar faces and the director certainly used the best of the best to optimize the storytelling. It’s also good to see the underrated Kim Ji-hoon getting a lot more work these days in these bigger high profile productions. But the star of the enterprise is the script begging the question... when was the last time a K drama had plotting this good?

My analysis — best read after viewing and not before… Spoilers ahead.

Somewhere between the third and fourth episodes, it occurs to me that Death’s Game is a darker, certainly more violent reimagining of Frank Capra’s It’s a Wonderful Life. And while we’re at it, why not throw in Charles Dickens’ great classic, A Christmas Carol for good measure? We know which inspired which there. So what do these stories have in common? For one they are second chance stories but the protagonists in these stories aren’t necessarily aware that they are being offered a second chance at the start. They undergo an arduous punishing journey of self-discovery that on the surface is more excruciating than edifying. If Death is to be believed, then Yee-jae is being punished for committing suicide.

But is he, really? Should we really take Death at face value or are her threats strategically made to egg him on to play the game game and force him out of his despondency? Is she manipulating him with reverse psychology. Hell awaits if he fails and it’s a terrifying thought now that he’s seen what it looks like. If punishment is really the endgame, then why take Yee-jae on this journey to solve a matter of grave injustice but to give him a glimpse of what’s life like for those who are left behind? If he was the burden he believed himself to be, why are his mother and ex-girlfriend, Ji-su still grieving for him?

Because the first “body” belongs to the second son of Taekang Group, it signals immediately that these challenges are somehow linked to Yee-jae’s life before death. But how do these pieces of the puzzle fit together? Why can’t he see the forest for the trees? Corporations in K dramas are seldom portrayed positively and yet it seems to be the dream of every university graduate to seek employment in these detached monoliths. Yee-jae attends two interviews at Taekang. The first is a write-off as a result of his encounter with a suicide victim on his way. In the second seven years later he interacts with Park Tae-woo (Kim Ji-hoon) the oldest son and CEO of Taekang Group and mistakenly assumes he has had a positive encounter with his potential employer. It’s an illusion. One of many. Park Tae-woo is a double-faced psychopath with violent tendencies. He’s a fraud. His benign public image is a cover for something far more sinister. He uses his clout as CEO of a corporation with deep pockets to pay off corrupt officials to cover up his crimes. He can use his infinite resources to engage organized crime. He sets himself above the law. He styles himself as Milton’s Satan ruling in hell. No one can get to him. Except through a miracle.

Furthermore the purpose of Taekang Group in the narrative is not only that it represents a festering merciless evil behind the facade of wealth but it is a symbol of a larger critique of materialism that drives the rat race and the participants to despair. The society in which these people live define success in terms of wealth, status, possessions. Yee-jae mentions this more than once that everyone has the same goals — a good job at a large company, marriage, children who do well at school, financial security. The reality however is that not everyone can achieve all of this. Nor might they want to. It is in the interest of these corporations with the help of governments to turn men and women into economic units — slaves of a system that tethers them to the economic engines of the nation with no regard for their spiritual, mental, physical well-being that make up the whole person. Big Business is first and foremost about profits. Governments are about control. They don’t see their clientele or electorates as individuals but entities to be exploited managed.

This perspective is given added merit by the fact that when Yee-jae finally realises that the people around him are more important to him than clinging on to wealth that’s not even his, he finally has clarity about the nature of Death’s game. It isn’t punishment per se but revelations/insights into his life that were not available to him previously. These insights serve a dual purpose insofar as they offer him an opportunity to re-evaluate his life and a compelling reason to exist. He didn’t have much by way of material wealth. In the order of things he was a “nobody” but he loved and was loved. His life had value by virtue of the fact that he was born.

In his case Yee-jae’s depression arose from unrealistic, unhealthy social values that just don’t account for individual differences and the unpredictability of life. Working for Taekang isn’t that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow but it has become a lie perpetuated in his world to prop up a class based social system that devalues the “losers” based on their monetary value. This is also reiterated in the other highlighted suicide where unlike Yee-jae, the individual makes it at Taekang for a while and lives the South Korean dream only for the bubble to burst in middle age when all his accomplishments and attempts to climb up the corporate ladder are rendered meaningless in a single moment. The problem with material possessions is their transience and lifelong pursuit of them is meaningless. Our ability to cling on to them in life is tenuous at best. And no can take it with them when they die.

At the core of this is the question of what makes us human. Are we just mere bodies to be “filled” by a soul? Are we just a sum of our memories? Like in Neo in The Matrix, Yee-jae is able to “download” abilities ie. access the abilities of his “hosts” and use them for a far greater purpose that transcends the lives of any of these morally dubious men. He is able to co-opt their memories for a greater cause — justice for victims of heinous crimes.

Hence the analogue to It’s A Wonderful Life and to a lesser degree A Christmas Carol. Instead of Clarence the angel or the three Christmas ghosts, Yee-jae’s instructor and messenger is the hard task master Death who brings out the whip and cracks it with unholy glee to keep him on his toes. As with the case in these second chance stories, these men come to realise that material prosperity isn’t everything but the relationships, the people we leave behind when we die are the true legacy of our lives. It’s not punishment at all but compassion to be shown how you’ve been led astray and be given another chance to refashion one’s life not governed by the materialistic impulses of our culture.

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Watchable Rom Com Falls Prey to 11th Hour Problems

Having Yoo In-na and Yoon Hyun-min spearheading this was a major incentive to jump on the bandwagon. Especially Yoo In-na who is so much at home in rom coms. So after skipping ahead for a sneak peek, I decided that this might be fluff worth wasting time over. I was sold after watching Episode 3 and my heart went out to a very humiliated (and devastated) Bo-ra who was being mercilessly gaslighted by her ex and social media.

This show covers plenty of subjects close to my heart — the complexities of courtship, marriage as well as differences between the sexes. Not everything works for me but there are nuggets of gold everywhere and the gleam of gems even when episodes don’t light up. What’s become evident is that Kdrama rom coms are gradually turning into parodies of the genre which would account for the histrionics, hijinx and odd foray into toilet humour. This accounts for why the genre that catapulted SK dramas to international glory have become very hit and miss. Here there’s a dual purpose in that because the show needs Yoon Hyun-min’s character Lee Su-hyeok to see the very worst of Bo-ra and still somehow manage to fall in love with her. Why? Because everyone defaults to hiding behind masks and facades in public. In a society where status and respectability holds incalculable currency, one’s public face may bear little or no resemblance to one’s private realities. This fact has ramifications for how dating and marriage is viewed in the wider population.

The first 7 episodes are a mixed bag. Some segments contain sparkles of brilliance and insight into the fallen state of humanity while others leave behind the sour aftertaste of second-hand embarrassment. The lifeline during those moments are the leads’ banter which is always a delight to behold. Whatever the show’s flaws there’s no doubting the quality of the dialogue. But from Episode 8 onwards when Bo-ra finally bids the duplicitous ex-boyfriend farewell and the leads share an intimate moment in a karaoke booth, a switch in the show’s engine is turned on.

By about the third or fourth episode it becomes clear that this show is about endings. The end of a relationship doesn’t have to be the death knell to one’s existence. It can be the beginning of something else. Perhaps something better than what came before. Out with the old, in with the new. Hence the jalopy vs Mercedes analogy that is referenced in Episode 11. The very best part of this show is reserved for the leads and rightly so. From the first they are set up with parallel journeys and in walking together, groping around for answers, their eyes are opened to what’s been there all this time. The ending of a relationship doesn’t have to be a tragedy regardless of how it ended.

It occurs to me that this story really begins with the exes — Ju-hwan and Yu-ri. The leads are going on their merry way more or less maintaining the status quo. Bo-ra who is the talk show queen of dating and author of three books on the subject gets mugged by a rude shock when she finds out that not only was Ju-hwan messing around with a close family friend on his busy days, he had long since given up on their relationship. In his words, he felt smothered by Bo-ra but I’m inclined to think that in his case there’s a lot more than that. Yu-ri on the other hand was fed up with Su-hyeok’s reticence and was already looking elsewhere for security and solace.

Infidelity, an immoral act, is usually an expression of a much deeper problem that hasn’t yet been laid bare. It’s also a case of wanting your cake and eating it. A lack of communication is often blamed for break-ups and no doubt that plays a integral part. However, it goes much deeper than that. The death knell of a relationship is the consequence of unspoken, unmet expectations much of which are unrealistic.

The show swims along nicely for about 5 episodes and then it falls apart with the last two which are almost a reversal of what transpired in the two preceding episodes.

Do I really want to know what was in the kimbap or fried chicken in the writers’ room when ideas were being pitched for Episodes 13 and 14 of Bo Ra! Deborah / True to Love? I was fervently hoping that they wouldn’t screw up the resolution but alas they just couldn’t help themselves. Episode 13 in particular aroused something in me that few dramas are capable of doing. It made me want to punch the screen. What the show did to Su-hyeok’s arc in particular was sloppy and asinine. All in service of a push and pull that had to be until about 10 minutes before the end. It was a resolution in search of a conflict… and a villain. And even now I’m puzzling over who that might be.

Is it the insufferable Ju-hwan — the pompous egotistical ex who was caught red-handed cheating on Bo-ra? He seems to be the front runner. The classic bad guy and the quintessential obstacle to true love and happiness. The guy has no shame and the show is shameless in exploiting the very worst aspects of his personality. Or is it the gutless wonder that is the male lead who somehow loses his nerve when the destable Ju-hwan confesses on public radio that he wants another chance with Bo-ra. So what does Su-hyeok do. He caves. Accordingly Su-hyeok backs down from a fight because he says during a drunken stupor that he “doesn’t want to be the bad guy in somebody else’s romance”. It’s easy to believe that someone else wrote Episode 13 because the Su-hyeok in the last two episodes underwent a brain or personality transplant. He became a different man. In my exploding head I can just hear Jeremy Northam’s Mr Knightley saying to Gwyneth Paltrow’s Emma. “Badly done, Emma, badly done.”

Another candidate for villain here might be Bo-mi who sinks to new lows in terms of churlishness and stupidity. Gee “Sister, thy name is gaslighting” was out in full force. I’ve never liked Bo-mi who has never been much of a presence in this drama but all that defensive tantrum throwing in the final episodes is very hard to watch.

In a way I’m glad that I didn’t invest weeks on this show only to be left feeling vaguely defrauded by the production. To put a positive spin on this I can see how the show runners who are tethered to the ratings system are terrified of the leads coming together too early because the complaint has traditionally been “oh the show is not interesting once the leads come together.” This kind of thinking has incentivized bad endings more times than I can count with two hands and ten toes. A moderately good show can’t have a clunky ending because a clunky ending has a detrimental effect on the entire shape of the narrative.

Adapted from two posts from my personal blog.

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