Showing posts with label Kdrama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kdrama. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 11, 2022

Why Hellbound is the Standout Series for 2021

 An intelligent scripted TV series that holds a mirror to modern culture was never going to be widely embraced.

Hellbound is a South Korean 6 episode series that sees random members of the community receiving messages warning of their time of upcoming death. Bizarre creatures appear, brutally killing the condemned, before disappearing again, seemingly into thin air.

As expected, the increase in killings has severe ramifications on society. The plot starts just as the phenomena begins, taking us through the ensuing years.

Hellbound tackles hard issues, including religion, and government: the symbiosis that develops, and the way religious organisations generally adapt to the fears of the many, while benefiting the few.

South Korean dramas are often lauded for quality writing, and this is no exception. But while critics celebrate the series, less enthused reviews by the everyday global audience are showing more about the reviewers, than the material itself.

The anger of those who don't like to think beyond the obvious; the confusion of those who have lost the ability to process storytelling that isn't simply a spoon-fed linear narrative; the indignation of those made uncomfortable at the portrayal of judgmental and dogmatic mindsets.

The unease of those unwilling to consider the role of religion in their behavioural patterns; the boredom of those for whom television only entertains if it is truly empty of social commentary.

The discomfort of those who see aspects of themselves onscreen, and the outrage of those who want to live in a shallow world rather than imagine reshaping it.

…Do I sound critical? That's because I am. Entertainment doesn't need to be empty, or an endless visceral thrill. Contrary to today’s popular thinking, television that challenges are not inherently flawed.

The creatures of Hellbound are a metaphor for occurrences that humanity cannot explain. In response, society will always attempt to create a suitable narrative. This is the way it has always been. And often, when fear prevails, there is an ugliness embedded in the result.

Many have criticised Hellbound for plot holes, when they actually mean character inconsistencies that accurately reflect human irrationality, especially in the face of an existential crisis.

The pandemic itself has shown humanity’s obsession with choosing a narrative: creating a personal or societal mish mash of beliefs to uphold the idea of a reality they can accept. It can be argued, the discomfort and dissatisfaction with Hellbound arises from resentment at this subconscious tendency being placed under scrutiny.

The unknown has always fascinated writers. Hellbound offers us the result of a society dealing with the unexplainable. It also encompasses personal journeys within this context. Often gritty, and gory, it isn’t fun. It’s brutal, challenging, and riveting.

Characters grapple with existential dread, revenge vs justice, the definition of sin, and the complexities of family. While there are traditionally “good” characters, they are in the minority. Almost everyone becomes flawed and erratic under the pressure.

Equating death with “failed” living permeates the human consciousness. Hellbound takes that vague discomfort and moves it to the forefront. The point of life becomes avoiding premature death.

On the technical front, I loved the dark cinematography and the story’s structure. The cast are outstanding. My only real criticism was that the monster CGI wasn’t as disturbing in the way the story itself. I found the dementors in Harry Potter much more unsettling. I think if they had been amorphous, they would have proven more visually impacting.

Friday, June 9, 2017

Circle: Two Worlds Connected Is Must-See Sci-Fi

(Please note this post includes references to events that
take place in episodes 1-6 of Circle: Two Worlds Connected.)
The best science fiction marries emotion with speculation. South Korean TV series Circle: Two Worlds Connected taps into one of humanity’s basic fears; that science will tamper with the parameters of personality.


Thematically, science fiction television transcends language barriers and cultural differences because every society is curious, if not concerned, about the future, and the unexplained.


An uncomfortable relationship between tech, emotions, and memory is a popular trope in science fiction. Stories exploring the use—or abuses—of advancements in technology are more successful if the audience is tied empathetically to the characters.


Circle: Two Worlds Connected has a winning formula with dominant themes of memory, identity, and family. That most erratic variable—love—usually ruins the equation at some point in scifi, because audiences like to see the warmth of humanity trumping the dispassion of science.


Circle: Two Worlds Connected utilizes the tricky narrative tool of a split timeline. The first half of each episode is set in 2017, the second in a dystopian 2037. The risk with this kind of storytelling structure is events in the present seem futile because viewers have a window into a bleak future.


Creating an immediate emotive link with the audience is paramount. We know what our leads are trying to do isn’t going to work, but we need to care enough to keep watching.


The pilot begins with a flashback to a childhood trauma experienced by two brothers in 2007, so the strength of their bond, even as children, is established. As adults, differing perspectives on that pivotal event creates an ever-widening rift, but their co-dependency persists.


Supernatural has shown a TV series can run for years on the fuel of dysfunctional familial relations. In Circle: Two Worlds Connected one brother studies neuroscience while the other investigates an alien conspiracy. The way the story unfolds aligns us firmly with the “sane” one: until it doesn’t anymore…


The present day timeline offers the possibility of an ageless alien and a number of associated mysteries, most notably the disappearance of our leads’ father. Clues also suggest experiments focusing on memory manipulation are causing student deaths on campus, till now viewed as suicides.


 In the future storyline, aka 2037, Normal Earth is polluted and the rich live in Smart Earth, a city boasting no crime. Smart Earth citizens have chips inserted in their necks, and yes that sense of misgiving specific to mind-control storylines is probably kicking in about now. (Plus the Smart Earth law keepers wear a lot of white: if there’s one thing sci-fi has taught me, it’s never trust the clean!)


At first, we’re unclear as to how the characters from the past connect to those in the future: memories have been manipulated, a violation revealed by the hacker Bluebird. But why? And by whom? How exactly did the Smart B system evolve? We’re also told the brothers became Missing Persons at some point during the time jump, so with each episode, our dread intensifies.


The show feels claustrophobic, no matter how spacious the setting, because the narrative is taking us inside the minds of the characters. Most are lost, searching for a person or particular truths, or looking to hide from memories. The show is seeped in desperation, making each episode increasingly compelling.


A number of characters in Circle: Two Worlds Connected are focused on the tie-in between memory and self. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can transform memories into tools of self-harm that impinge on decision-making and a person’s ability to function. But this scenario wonders if the removal or suppression of harmful memories is potentially more problematic?

Memory is the recall of experiences, but how the mind stores them and how the present day self views them, impacts their power. Are you really “yourself” when pieces of the puzzle that make up your psyche have been removed?


You may be at peace… But are you truly whole?


Scientific knowledge can create a delusional, God-like mindset, and that problematic perspective lies at the heart of the conflicts here: those empowered by knowledge are abusing that power. Deciding the psychological needs of citizen is a slippery slope, especially when you don’t gain consent.


Smart Earth seems a metaphor for humanity’s timeless response to complex societal issues: use wealth to hide from them. The story shows a safe haven can prove to be a type of prison if those in control have no qualms tampering with your mind—for your own good.


The drama is only twelve episodes long. South Korean television generally opts for a single season series, and as a result shows achieve a level of sustained intensity often missing from Western dramas. No story elements are held over for future seasons; the production team throws everything into the shorter format.


South Korean television is also fabulous at capturing emotive moments; the camera documents myriad emotions flitting across the actors' faces. South Korean actors excel at communicating complex wave of feeling just with their eyes, so prepare to be enthralled.


At the drama’s halfway point I’d guessed some reveals, and missed others. Even now, there are a few directions the story could go, and the set-up makes many plot options viable. I’m equally curious about the past and the future: how did the brothers lose each other? What sequence of events brought them to this tragic situation?


And the big question: who is Byul? Is the woman who mysteriously appeared and doesn’t age, an alien? Or are we seeing a series of clones? Can we even trust the brothers’ childhood memories? Can we trust anyone’s recall at this point?


What is really going on?


Circle: Two Worlds Connected is what brilliant sci-fi is supposed to be, packed with complex characters, exploring many ideas related to our relationship with tech, seeping paranoia and subterfuge, engaging and enthralling the audience with intelligent storytelling. The plot is beautifully crafted, the acting is incredible, and the cinematography is stunning. What more could you ask for?


Monday, July 25, 2016

W and its Two Worlds

*Please note this blog contains
spoilers for episodes 1 and 2.
Global sci-fi fans should tune in and check out new TV series W—Two Worlds. Storytelling genres like science fiction, speculative fiction, and slipstream fiction can cross language and cultural barriers: exploring meta concepts, wild ideas, and out-there possibilities in engaging, intelligent, and emotive ways.


The concept of the imagination fascinates me, and I think in the future there will be a test to measure a person’s imaginative capabilities. For a long time I didn't understand people who said they couldn’t “get into” a strange story. Once a friend tried to explain what happens when she reads a fantasy or futuristic novel: how the words on the page don’t create a clear picture, let alone a place that feels real in her mind.

Loving the lighting/set design/cinematography
in both worlds.
For me, and many fans of strange stories, what’s happening in a book, television, or film setting is as real as what’s happening somewhere in the world. I’ve been like that since I was a kid, while mistakenly assuming everyone around me is having a similar involvement with storytelling. To only be able to truly experience the place you live and the life you have is a limitation I can’t comprehend.

When the female lead recognizes a character
from the webtoon, this happens.
W—Two Worlds extrapolates that feeling. For a while, the audience isn’t clear who in the show is “real” and who is fictitious. Viewers are presented with two narratives to follow (albeit one more dramatic than the other) and before long we’re invested in the lives of the male and female leads. By the time it’s revealed one is a webtoon character, this supposedly important fact seems oddly irrelevant.

That moment when you realize your life is now surreal af.
The Korean series screens two episodes a week until September. More meta elements are mixed with intrigue, romance, humor, tragedy, and comedy. To heavily summarize the plot, our female lead Oh Yeon Joo is in the real world, and our male lead Kang Chul is the main character in a bestselling webtoon created by her father. 

When dad decides to kill off the webtoon’s famous hero, Oh Yeon Joo is pulled into the story to stop his death. This places father and daughter at loggerheads, as dad is determined to exterminate the imaginary Kang Chul one way or another.

#writerGodcomplex
 Our female lead Oh Yeon Joo is a bit of a ditz. Strange, considering she’s a surgeon? But her confusion on entering the webtoon world is well played. What could be more traumatizing for a pragmatic person than this experience?

Korean TV often utilizes the linear elements of a location.
At heart she’s a good person, and actress Han Hyo Joo conveys empathy and kindness with her performance. The character’s calling is to save lives even if the blood on her hands came from an illustration program. I love that she’s a terrible liar, and not really creative, so having to come up with plot points and dialogue on the spot inside the webtoon isn’t working out so well for her…

The supporting cast are fab.
When you're the only one outside the time lapse.
Kang Chul is a larger-than-life webtoon character: a teen Olympic gold medalist framed for murder, who grows up to become a rich tech genius slash playboy. Actor Lee Jong Suk is considered beautiful by Korean standards, in that he has very white skin and is tall and slender (previously a model). He’s got the right look and onscreen charisma for the role, but he’s also a great actor, and manages to humanize this exaggerated ideal.

Surgery, webtoon-style.
Obviously we’re on the road to romance, but at this point Kang Chul treats Oh Yeon Joo as more of a puzzle piece he needs to see the whole picture, and she treats him more like an idea she’s protecting, rather than a person. It’s a nice setup.

Girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do
(to get out of a webtoon).
Dad is like a wrathful Old Testament God here, determined to wipe out the character he’s created. For some reason he believes Kang Chul is “eating him up” and wants to destroy him first. You get the feeling dad’s been in the webtoon as well, and knows more than he’s letting on.

Webtoon workplace worries. 
The first two episodes are fabulous at world building, partly because they abide by the created rules, and also because the writer has thought a lot about "reality" within the webtoon, and how the imagined world would interact with the "real" world. Maintaining that framework is so important with fantastical narrative, and writer Song Jae Jung's quality world building stands out.


I think the show won me over when Oh Yeon Joo was sitting at a bus stop in the webtoon for half an hour, while months went by high speed in the webtoon. The story was moving to the next plot point (i.e. after Kang Chul recovered from the latest assassination attempt). So while it had been months for our male lead, only thirty minutes passed for our female lead, adding an unexpectedly comedic element.

Spinning watch hands are never a good sign.
Omg awkward.
The edits between the webtoon and the real world in the show are well done. The music fits nicely, and the cinematography is as lovely as ever. (Korean television takes a lot of care with the technical aspects.) I’m expecting to see an offshoot W manga hit shelves in the next few months—why waste the fabulous illustrations?


Very cool.
Only two episodes in and the show sets up many interesting ideas to mull over. Why is dad determined to kill Kang Chul? How come Oh Yeon Joo is the one crossing over? Is the webtoon like a storytelling version of AI, what with rewriting itself in the computer to keep the webtoon's lead character alive? Most of all—can Kang Chul cross into reality? And if he comes to Oh Yeon Joo’s world, is he officially “real”?

Or is he already real enough?

Yes, he's on a newsreel being watched
in a webtoon inside a tv show. Any questions?