Eiga Sai 2011

Kicking off a month's worth of events and activities designed to promote cultural exchange and understanding in celebration of the Philippines-Japan Friendship Month (PFJM) this July is the annual Eiga Sai sponsored by Japan Foundation Manila, the Japanese Embassy and other partner organizations nationwide. Among the films that will be screened this year is Departures which won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film in 2009, along with an interesting selection of heartwarming and dramatic features such as One Million Yen Girl and Villon's Wife. As always, the film festival is free and open to the public so do check out the screening schedule and the flyer for movies that you might have missed out on or overlooked.

It seems like just yesterday when I came across Waterboys at the university film theater and yet the truth of the matter is that Eiga Sai is now on its 13th year. The Japan Foundation Manila usually organizes interesting events, bringing over Japanese artists and hosting exhibits, but the one I look forward to each year is the film festival because through it, I get to catch something that I normally wouldn't see---I still regret not watching The Bandage Club last year, seeing that I can't find English subtitles online for the said movie. Anyway, I'm sure there's going to be at least one movie in there that would catch your fancy so if you have time to spare, don't miss out on this opportunity.

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The Maid

Those who've seen a television or movie adaptation of  "Nanase Futatabi"" or perhaps read the manga "Telepathic Wanderers" would no doubt remember its heroine being hunted down by a secret organization intent on eliminating those with paranormal abilities. This book features the same Nanase Hiita only earlier in the timeline, prior to the events narrated in the second installment of the series. What's interesting though is that while the second novel has been the subject of numerous television and movie adaptations, the first book alone had an English translation.  

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She didn't know when it started but for as long as she could remember, Nanase Hiita always had the ability to read people's minds. Knowing that her telepathic powers would earn the ire and revulsion of the people around her if discovered, she decided to work as a maid to remain transient and inconspicuous, moving from one family to another, going wherever her line of work would take her.

Through the years, she's trained herself to control her powers, ever careful not to let it slip that she knew more than what she was told. However with her extraordinary ability to peer into people's thoughts and hidden desires, it was inevitable for her not to be drawn into the drama---nay, the farce that made up her employers' lives. Each household carried its own tale and each member had his own secret, but Nanase could see through the lies; for she knew better, she knew what was going on.

 Described as a picaresque journey into the inner sanctum of the lives and psyches of ordinary Japanese people, Yasutaka Tsutsui's The Maid is a deceptively simple piece of literature that harps on the age old adage not to judge a book by its cover made possible by a touch of the paranormal. Divided into eight chapters, representing eight households that Nanase Hiita has come to serve, Yasutaka Tsutsui cleverly presents a somewhat dismal portrait of the modern family steeped in intrigue and personal turmoil as observed by a cynical, unsympathetic outsider.

Written in 1972, The Maid  isn't so much a paranormal thriller like its sequel but plays out more as an anthology that makes use of old-fashioned storytelling techniques in tackling a central theme. On the surface, it's about the lies that people tell to each other and the things that they can't say; to a certain extent, it also explores man's base desires, the ones that are kept hidden and suppressed under the social order. As a satire, it can be considered as an unflinching critique of a society where the appearance of propriety and the observance of niceties transcend any act of impropriety or moral transgression.  It can also be argued as a harbinger of the slow but steady disintegration of the family unit that plagues today's society as inter-generational ties get broken and people increasingly fail to commit and communicate with each other on a personal level.

Everyone in the family knew their roles. They'd roam through the house with malice in their hearts, avoiding physical contact at any cost, and adopting poses they had mastered from soap operas.

The book is essentially a bundle of contradictions---on one hand, there are aspects of it that remain oddly relevant and haunting despite some notably archaic touches to certain chapters, on the other, it merely rehashes familiar storylines with very little regard for style or exposition. All the characters featured in it are generally vile and atrocious, in the midst of a breakdown or in denial of the truth, making them easily recognizable as common domestic tropes. There's the philandering husband, the suspicious trophy wife, the restless elderly and resentful children just to name a few, and these assortment of characters serve not only to tell minute stories but also to highlight culture-bound concerns framed in such a way as to produce both tragic and hilarious results. The issues confronted by the characters in the novel are familiar, even a tad universal; where a woman's frantic quest to remain youthful, a married couple's longing for greener pasture leads them to contemplate starting an affair with their neighbors, and an painter's narcissistic attitude spills onto his artwork reflect the worse of man's fears, selfishness and ambition. And yet despite this tired scheme, this collection of stories is undeniably Japanese and firmly rooted in modern culture. The context in which these stories are told bravely whittles through traditional preconceptions, going as far as to call attention to the duplicity in the observance of time-honored values in Japanese society such as modesty, discipline and hierarchy.  

It's hard to judge The Maid based on character and plot development because the novel in itself is episodic and choppy. Furthermore, very little is known of its heroine by the end of the story. In this regard, Nanase serves as nothing more than a conduit, a means by which the writer can cross the private and public divide and intrude upon his characters' thoughts and convey their feelings. There is an economy of words used, none of which would hit hard like a sledgehammer, but if there's one thing that can be said about this book is that the language used matched its indeterminate tone. Things are not always what they seem as every chapter often demonstrates the opposite of that which Nanase has come to expect would occur.

Writer Yasutaka Tsutsui utilizes an interesting technique to lull the reader into a false sense of reality, peppering the book with simple, seemingly inconsequential sentences that would eventually be discarded or negated, drawing attention to something and then dismissing it altogether, thus:

Red flowers were blooming in the front yard, but Nanase had no idea what they were; the names of the flowers did not interest her. 

Here's another example from the second chapter wherein the first sentence is dismissed by the one succeeding it, throwing the reader for a loop:

Every household has its own smell. Sometimes only the people who live there can perceive it; in other cases the reverse is true. Often the smell does not really exist but is only a psychologically induced association.

The language used is far from being descriptive yet there's a good amount of negation and misdirection involved if one were to pay close attention to the tight, conventional prose. Each chapter offers a premise that would eventually be shattered, as if to remind the reader that his telepathic guide is far from infallible and often guilty of misjudging people. Perhaps what's most interesting of all is that despite having some insight as to what motivates the characters to act the way they do, they can hardly be considered as predictable or manageable as Nanase can attest to---there's more to the floating landscape that makes up the consciousness of a simple housewife; an unspeakable fury locked within the saintly appearance of a neglected spouse; and a predatory instinct that burns inside a bored, seemingly harmless senior. The stories may appear drab and familiar but there's always that element of surprise, the possibility of discovering something new, for ultimately, human beings are complex creatures. 

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Down the Rabbit Hole We Go - Part 2

"Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore."

- Andre Gide

Some of you might remember a piece on this blog last year about my strange and unsettling [ad]venture into the world of JE idols after coming into possession of and doing a weekend "viewing" marathon of a couple of JE concerts. To  be honest, I really struggled to approach this with an open mind and while I found it hard to put my thoughts and observations into words, I was determined to follow through and finish up this experiment last December. The only hitch was that things got stranger and weirder the more I looked into things, and this excursion had way too many twists and turns, that at one point, I was tempted to just forget about it and scrap whatever draft posts I had on the topic. Unfortunately for me, the sheer horror of it all got trumped by my curiosity and before I knew it, my little brain-attic got stocked with way too much furniture on the subject than I could ever manage to use or care about, let alone fully understand.

Short and desultory though it was, I found the whole idol experience to be in part revolting and fascinating. From fastforwarding thru the theatrical spectacle that was Takizawa Enbujo to taking a sneak peek at random JE concerts, to stumbling upon distressing sound bytes of Sakurai Sho's unfortunate rendition of Can't Take My Eyes Off You to a video clip of SMAP's most recent yet pathetic attempt at singing along with a foreign artist like Taylor Swift [or Justin Bieber]---this so-called journey to the land of JE idols was an auditory and visual assault like no other; one that left me feeling cold and empty, and slightly annoyed at myself for diving into this. I've been wracking my brain, thinking of a way to present this in a fairly organized manner, before realizing that I had no other choice but to settle with a rambling post. Because dammit, there has to be an end to this madness and the best way I can go about this is to walk you through how things went down in this addled head.

If you're still with me, then kindly extend a little patience because I'm afraid part 2 of this series will come out as one big mess for my approach was less than systematic (which goes to say I skimmed through the material in the same way that a person might carelessly leaf through a glossy magazine while awaiting his turn in the dentist's office). Bored, fidgety and utterly clueless how to proceed, I did manage to discover a few things about these prized idols from Japan, some of which, I would like to place on record that I wish to be wiped away from memory; while some others, I must admit, turned out to be surprisingly illuminating in a sense that if one were to draw inferences and follow things to their logical conclusion, one would most likely be saddened and disturbed by the implications of this frivolous, nonsensical query.

As much as I wanted to provide an overview on the Jimusho which launched an army of idols that now lay siege in countless homes through various forms of media, I realized early on that I wasn't interested so much on the groups per se or the different personalities that made up the company's stable of talent as much as I am about the inner workings of the agency. My primary concern was really looking into how things worked, which meant spotting bizarre unique attributes or elements within the industry that may or may not make sense to an outsider/non-fan like me and gathering enough data to come up with a hack[-unified] theory. 

To be clear, it's not like I started from scratch going into this. I was first introduced to jdoramas in 2002, vaguely aware of the fact that most of the "actors" featured on the dramas recommended to me would write down the word "idol" as their main occupation. Indeed, any fledgling viewer would no doubt have encountered at least two or more of these creatures in his or her initial foray into the dorama world before eventually taking a peek at infamous performances---which in my case turned out to be a black-clad SMAP singing Lion Heart, wiggling/knocking their knees... err... dancing around mic stands, and a fancam clip of  a skin and bones version of a Chippendales number, popularly known as Tackey's Ero-ero dance. Whether you take to them or not is a whole other story; it's first and foremost a question of taste and in most cases, a matter of how receptive or open you are to fangirl (or boy) indoctrination.

Personally, I tend to agree with this blogger who described Japanese idols as all cut from the same mold; they generally do sound alike and dance as if they're fighting a rhythm impairment disorder, most of all, they do have a limited shelf life. And while idol groups come and go, what's painstakingly clear in all this is the immutable influence wielded by Johnny & Associates, which appears to have an unholy alliance with television executives. Rocked by scandal and often accused of deploying unsavory tactics to promote and discipline its musically/artistically challenged progeny, the agency known as Johnny's Entertainment has done one thing right through the years---it's positioned itself to maximize product visibility, taking care to provide sufficient media exposure for its idol picks, in turn utilizing the most basic and effective form of mind control on an unsuspecting public.

Repetition, that's the key.

When the company was said to be suffering from poor record sales in the 90s and public interest in their new band SMAP fell below expectations, the top dogs decided to make their boys into multimedia stars; in other words, bombarding folks with the sight and sound of its cheeky troops became its standard operating procedure.

Switch on the radio, turn on the t.v., walk by a newspaper stand or get a soda from a vending machine, these boys' faces will be there, make no mistake about it. You don't like their latest single? Well, tough luck! You'll be hearing it every week because it'll be the theme song to a drama that will (you guessed it--) star one, maybe two idols in need of additional acting practice. You don't like watching dramatic features? Well, you can always opt to watch one of many variety shows tailor-made to showcase each boy's personality and have you picking your favorite[s]. You think they look and dress kinda funny? Stick around long enough and I assure you one of them will eventually grow on you.

In some ways, it closely follows the same precepts enunciated in Barnee Stinson's Mermaid Theory, such that an idol's appeal---as measured in units of how much you love, adore and cherish him by means of shelling out moolah for JE concerts and goodies, amount of time spent squeeing and/or flailing, surfing the net, blogging and sleepless nights watching everything and anything said idol has appeared in---increases in direct proportion to the time exposed to him. In expanded form, it can be written thus, where k stands for the mode of transmission  (e.g. dramas, PVs, CMs, variety shows, etc.) and x being an unknown variable that determines the limit or threshold of exposure:

If an Idol's Appeal  α  Time of Exposure (ToE) → Degree of Fandom = k*(ToE/x)

[To illustrate, it takes a fraction of a second for a person to accede to the fact that Takizawa Hideaki is a good-looking man; a little more time to warm up to the likes of Nishikido Ryo and a far longer period to appreciate someone styled like Tanaka Koki. Now suppose, the very same person catches Boku dake no Madonna or Orthros no Inu and gets bored to death, then Tackey's appeal would significantly diminish while conversely, one might experience an increased interest in someone as skittish as Aiba Masaki or dopey Ohno Satoshi (pun intended) after watching some variety shows they appeared in.]

Far from being foolproof, the above postulate does in part explain an aspect of fandom however it fails to account for the good number of people immune to the phenomenon, more so, it does not completely explain how others outgrow this j-pop malaise and break the idol spell to eventually become normal and productive  individuals (i.e. bone-tired members of the working community). It's also interesting to note that fandom is something that is nurtured and best appreciated in online groups, giving those who live outside of Japan enough access to fuel their idol-crack addiction; this, despite the company's [and JASRAC's] strict policy and efforts to prevent the unofficial distribution of its precious merchandise. Casting aside the difference in the quality and impact of the medium by which an idol is branded or made known worldwide, what remains constant in all this though is the Jimusho's ability to promote and keep the groups under its management in the public eye---which alone makes for solid marketing.

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Observational Report #2: The Pure, Sexy Beast and Other Stories

I was going over Tackey and Tsubasa's 2002 Hatachi Debut Concert when I realized that it was the very same concert I saw years ago that made me swear off JE productions. To me, watching it was the equivalent of wandering into a dark, seedy club where young boys dance in thrall of a cult leader or an unspeakable ancient religion. I wasn't thrilled to relive the experience but somehow ended up watching snippets of it to complete my idol regimen long enough to notice how Yamapi and Ikuta Toma were singled out from the Juniors and  how Taguchi Junnosuke clearly resented the fact that he had to carry Tackey on his shoulders back when the members of KAT-TUN merely served as backdancers. I believe there was also a point during this screening where I kept wondering why Tackey couldn't keep his shirt on and how a lot of the costumes worn appeared to have been stolen from Elvis' and Liberace's Vegas wardrobe, but we'll get to that later on...

Anyway, between hearing NEWS sing about the days of the week and contemplating whether to grant my sister's request to take another look at the Arashi Anniversary 5x10 Concert while providing real-time commentary, I started wondering about how ordinary boys relinquish the joys of a regular childhood in favor of being molded into cosmetically-enhanced and sexed up bubblegum pop sensations. So how does one join the ranks of JE?

Based on a cursory review, it appears to be a five-step process:   

• Step 1 : Get into the program.
• Step 2 : Learn the tricks of the trade.
• Step 3 : Pay your dues, stand out from the crowd and get noticed.
• Step 4 : Pray that you debut.
• Step 5 : Be a model artist and strictly abide by JE rules.

From what I understand, boys all over Japan send in applications and audition to be admitted into the Jimusho. Now the default story is that most if not all the boys that form part of the idol groups currently promoted by the company were prodded or encouraged by a friend or relative who "secretly" filled up and sent in an application form thinking that they'd be perfect for the part. There were also those who were actively recruited and therefore form part of the "elite" and some who were asked to join by parents who wanted their boy[s] to have an after school activity---making Johnny's Entertainment sound as if it were a daycare center or a summer camp for kids. In this regard, it can be likened to an East Asian version of Nickolodean or Disney's the Mickey Mouse Club, except that it has a wider breadth and scope but the objective's the same, which is to produce/discover the genuine article, something referred to in the industry as a triple [or quadruple] threat.

Once a boy gets in, he learns the essentials: he gets to sing and dance like everyone else, act all cute and innocent; he'll grace magazines posing with anything from sporting goods, flowers, potted plants to cute, furry creatures; he'll get to dance behind his seniors, wear flashy clothes, get made over and placed in sub-units until the powers that be decide to give him a break and let him debut. It all sounds simple enough but the road to stardom in such a big company is no different from being in Fumi Yoshinaga's imagined all-male Ōoku, where all the aspiring young boys' first task is to get noticed. Exactly how they get chosen out of hundreds, nay, thousands is still a mystery but it seems that once an idol debuts, he's doomed to become a creature of myth---one I'd like to refer to as the "pure, sexy beast".

He becomes an abstraction, a jumble of contradictions. He's supposed to exhibit a boyish charm and yet be sexy and desirable. He's to remain pure and chaste in the public's perception which is why it's almost unthinkable for him to admit that he's dating someone without the company's permission. And even though no person in his/her right mind can be made to believe that these boys remain innocent, they just go on with the charade and pretend for the sake of the fans that they're romantically unattached, available.

The chastity belt might be imaginary but the vice like grip that Johnny's Entertainment has over its boys' testicles public image and persona is ludicrously real and undeniable. What's bizarre is that the policy extends way beyond the boys' teen years, and therefore what you get are mixed signals and an even more ridiculous situation where you see grown men feigning ignorance when it comes to relationships, inevitably cultivating a system or culture of mendacity. You have SMAP members pushing forty still playing bachelors who don't know what love is; Arashi members peddled as boy-next-door types who've done a sexy pictorial and/or have been embroiled in a scandal and yet still do tight-lipped kissing scenes; a former KAT-TUN member whose rakish behavior would lead one to believe that he's taken his skills in hip thrusting off stage and to the bedroom; and a member of NEWS made out to be the next hot, sexy thing to draw attention away from his expressionless face to his abdominal muscles. I'm not saying that the company should do away with image-marketing, it's just that it should be a little more flexible in handling its artists, allowing them to tackle stuff that's more age appropriate; cutting them enough slack  to appear and behave closer to the mean. Placing too much emphasis on image-building, fanservice and media streamlining just validates claims of exasperated viewers that these idols are nothing more than manufactured goods---cheaper by the dozen, highly consumable with a short expiration date.   

As I was left to ponder the fate of those who entered show business via the Jimusho, a few more questions regarding the idol trek to fame came to mind---What happens to a Junior if he doesn't debut? What happens if an idol gets caught breaking the rules? What happens if an idol decides to quit at the height of his career? What happens to those who are past their prime? Would it still be possible to pursue a career outside the protective blanket of fandom and JE machinery? If this were a game of Jeopardy, the possible answers would be---Who is Ikuta Toma? Who is Uchi Hiroki? Who is Katsuyuki Mori and Kohara Yuki? Who is Sato Atsuhiro? Who is Motoki Matsuhiro?---but these names would represent only a few of those who got lucky.  It doesn't even begin to cover the countless names and faces who've gone on to obscurity; those who would most likely be forgotten once a new generation comes in.

Out of the ones mentioned above, Ikuta Toma would no doubt have made an interesting case study. He was one of the more popular Juniors in his day, he belonged to a number of temporary sub-units and yet got cut when it came right down to launching idol groups. I initially wondered why until I heard him sing Love Together in that Hatachi Concert and saw him perform White Christmas only to realize it was a stupid question. He's said to be one of the few idols under the JE banner that concentrated on his acting career but then again, it's not like he has anything else to do but focus on his acting career. Some people would refer to him as the omega of the pack formerly led by Tackey and Tsubasa but I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.  So off I went to google and see what this boy's been up to this past year when lo and behold the trending led me to this April 2010 issue of An-An Magazine which in turn led me to this photoshoot comparison picspam by scankychops on LJ, which torpedoed me back to the concept of the pure, sexy beast. I found it funny how they keep shuffling back and forth, donning a mature persona and at the same time insist on maintaining an almost childlike appeal for public consumption. It doesn't really make much sense to me but hey, that's what sells.

I understand fans have raved about this particular magazine issue so I decided to check out the short interview and like others, one line stood out to me as well:

Some sempai actors say, ‘“Experience with women enriches the skill in your art, so you should gain a lot of experience,” but it makes me want to object. I think that rather than the number of women you experience, what makes a man mature more is to deeply love one woman. At least that’s the way I want to be.

Far from going, "awww, shucks," the first thing that came to mind was that I had to amend my 5-Step Program on how to become a JE idol. It seems that I missed a crucial step, a rite of passage between steps 3 and 4 which can be denominated as the baptism of hoochies, a personal quest to the isle of AV actresses or a crusade on the neighboring country of gravure idols and starlets. There are signs everywhere and it's quite interesting to see what one can discover when one takes the time to read between the lines.

* End of [Jumbled] Report on JE Idol Culture triggered by An-An Magazine Photos dated 4/14/2011*

Further research on the subject matter terminated.
Objective as to why this series is still ongoing remains unclear.
Researcher can definitively say that she does not like where this is going.

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Main photo/screencap taken from:  GodessCarlie.com- Ikuta Toma in Hana Yori Dango 2
Additional photos and magazine courtesy of: The Sound of Light, ----JiNg----, 寝ても覚めても嵐, Lucywho.com, menchie007's album and JpopAsia.
Ikuta Toma's AnAn April 2010 article translated by enshinge 

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Spring Cleaning Blues

A new season's approaching which means another batch of jdoramas will be gracing the small screen and yet I don't even remember catching any of the ones that came out earlier this year. Can't really say I'm excited about the upcoming dramas because blurbs tend to be misleading and as experience would show, watching a drama on the basis of who's in it doesn't always do the trick. So I've decided to lower my expectations and watch things at my own pace, let all the hype and hoopla die down, before attempting to review whatever I've seen in earnest. I can no longer afford to watch anything and everything like I used to, in fact, I find it increasingly hard to motivate myself to sit through any drama just for the sake of watching a drama.

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A Foreign Perspective

An offshoot of watching Japanese dramas and movies is an increased awareness and/or curiosity over things that are Japanese. I suppose it's the same for anyone who's been exposed to a segment of Japanese culture or have fallen in love with an aspect thereof---be it art, literature, fashion, or  music; whether you're a manga or anime fan, or even a gaming enthusiast, it's not unusual to develop an interest in the country and the people from which your favorite pastime originated and flourished.  A good number of books have already been written about Japan, covering everything from the nation's history, the state of its economy, even going as far as to discuss pop cultural trends and social problems as identified by social scientists and journalists but out of everything that's available out there, I find reading blogs and informal works by those who've stayed in the country itself to be equally informative and entertaining. There's a lot that can be derived from reading personal accounts and observations unhampered by a need to prove a thesis or maintain a stance that isn't ethnocentric. They impart information that might not be readily available to those who are merely on the outside looking in. 

Of Rice and Yen is an ebook that I came upon last year after reading an article in Things Asian by a journalist who wrote about the Japanese herd mentality and how the same can be seen in their obsession over things like branded goods, pachinko and vending machines. It was a short and trite article, limited in scope and arguably faulty for making a sweeping generalization, but the things discussed and cited therein does not necessarily mean that they're wholly untrue or baseless. Keeping that in mind, I started reading up on gaijin accounts of their stay in Japan, no matter how subjective it may be, which led me to this compilation of notes by David Mosley.

Containing loads of trivia and anecdotes detailing his over a decade-long stay, I found this e-book an easy read, perfect for those averse to material that are too technical or scholarly. Best of all it's free. The author himself even encourages you to share it to others and welcomes any feedback on it.

Download Link [MF] :

Of Rice and Yen 

 An Englishman's look at the best and worst of Japan: the pleasures and pains, the gems and the jaw-droppers by David Mosley 

Copyright © 2009

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Jungle Fish

 

Most if not all the Korean dramas that land on foreign shores are sageuks, makjangs, or trendy dramas,  and while they're indeed quite popular, and very entertaining at that, seldom will one encounter a production that would speak of an ongoing issue or make an effort to address something that has some social relevance. Breaking away from the usual kdrama offerings is KBS2's Jungle Fish, a youth drama which came out in 2008. Winner of a Peabody Award for excellence, this drama special provides a prudent look at the issue of cheating, depicting the stiflingly competitive climate in high schools suffered by today's Korean teens.

I don't really intend to write reviews of kdramas, except maybe for the occasional blurb or rant, but seeing how this drama special's existence might have been overlooked by some or overshadowed by its more controversial sequel, I couldn't help but devote some space for it in my blog. A friend of mine would always point me in the direction of what's worth viewing and I remember her mentioning something about how this television special should be on our watch list. I haven't gotten around to watching her other recommendations,  among which include the likes of Shin Don and Sanada Taiheiki  but I did, however, manage to take this baby out for a spin.

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We are like fish in a jungle that adults created.

Jungle Fish follows the lives of four teens embroiled in a cheating incident. High school students Eun Soo (Park Bo Young), Dong Hee (Jang Ki Bum) and Mi Rae (Seo Hye Jin) find themselves in a bind after taking a midterm exam wherein the majority of the test questions were a repeat of the ones found in the test questionnaires given to them by their hagwon. Shocked and afraid of what their classmates might say, the three decide to keep their mouths shut and remain ever complicit with the apparently shady arrangement entered into by their parents and tutors. Another student, Jae Ta (Kim Soo Hyun) accidentally learns about their dilemma, but he's equally lost as to what to do in order to help them get through such an ordeal.

When news of the exam leakage begin to surface, the whole school is set in a tizzy, with teachers being called in for questioning and students being on the lookout for the culprit(s).  Tension fills the air as members of the whole student body cast a suspicious eye on each other, and the three students involved in the cheating scandal try to act like everything's normal despite being bothered by their guilty conscience.

Jae Ta wants to offer his support to Dong Hee but he doesn't know how to approach his friend without directly confronting him about cheating. Meanwhile Eun Soo wants to desperately confide in someone but her fear of disappointing her mother and being ostracized by others prevent her from coming out in the open.

Based on a cheating scandal involving a hagwon that graced the news in 2007, Jungle Fish examines the issue of cheating by inevitably drawing attention to the highly competitive yet arbitrary standards by which today's society measures someone's worth and defines personal success. The subject is handled with a certain level of delicacy, as one can see it told through the eyes of the aggrieved, which in this case are the four  cornered teens. It's not exactly a hard-hitting documentary, neither does it provide easy answers to the problem at hand, but its simple, non-judgmental approach in telling the story delivers a strong, loud message that the kids aren't all right. In effect, it goes beyond portraying the scheme as a mere question of ethics, indirectly reminding adults of their social responsibility towards the next generation.

What should a child do when something that he knows to be wrong is condoned, if not instigated, by an authority figure? Who can he run to for support when the person he should rely on the most can not be prevailed upon to listen? Who can he turn to when he's taught to treat his peers as his enemies? What is the true measure of one's worth? Without sounding sanctimonious, this one hour feature gets to effectively raise the following concerns, not through heavy dialogue or an obvious display of emotion but through the solitary moments endured by each character or the times when they appear to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, forced to abide by the rules that the adults have set. It's at these times that the viewer gets to truly understand the severity of the problem, it's at these times that one realizes how trapped and alone they are, just like jungle fish in search of the ocean.

Watching Jungle Fish, one easily gets a sense of unease---not because the characters in this special are young, insecure and awkward teenagers, but because they're in their own way crying for help, balking under pressure. The overall presentation of the special is simple yet somber, it carries with it the sad realization of the kind of environment that the youth are being raised in, as well as the cruel manner in which they're taught to survive and "get ahead" in life. In some ways it's like a stripped down, diminutive version of Shunji Iwai's All About Lily Chou Chou in terms of showing the characters' isolation and inability to make an outright personal connection, only with less visual style and musical pizazz, and of course, without the shocking display of violence.

Headlined by a young, talented cast of relative newcomers providing believable performances,  Jungle Fish is not only a welcome respite from the usual kdrama staple but also a good example of how television can be utilized to cover more serious and relevant matters. Furthermore, what's great about it is that it doesn't take too much of your time to get its point across.   

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A Star's Lover in Pictures

No matter how maudlin, humdrum or disappointing a drama may turn out to be, people would often walk away from them remembering a specific thing that either struck their fancy or something that came off as somewhat odd or irritating. It might be a touching scene, a memorable line, an outrageous outfit or a striking motif; a person might eventually forget about the structure of the story or struggle to remember every detail of how things unfolded in the course of the series, but he will never forget something that captured his heart, more so, if that something rankled his nerves and even made him regret investing so much time on a drama that failed to deliver the goods contrary to expectations. Dramas viewed five or eight years ago might seem like a distant memory but key scenes and images do linger on. They remain vivid and strong, as do the emotions they invoked upon one's encounter of a memorable episode.

Who here can forget the quiet longing of Commander Hwangbo for his lowly servant, Chae-Ok in Damo? Or that kissing scene between Lee Byung Hun and Choi Ji Woo in Beautiful Days that signaled an OTP change? Who could forget Rain's colorful array of v-neck shirts that scandalously dipped down his chest in Full House? Or how some of the set pieces in Jumong shook every time a stuntman took a tumble, or how a whole army could be concealed behind sparse foliage without being discovered?

Love 'em or hate 'em, kdramas do have a way of leaving behind pretty pictures and sickening music tracks that go on and on in your head. No matter what the outcome, they leave quite an impression, so I decided that instead of dwelling on the long, exasperating and technically uneven journey that was  A Star's Lover, I'd rather focus on the parts of this series that piqued my interest and celebrate the creative touches that I would [or  rather should] remember in years to come.

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When A Star's Lover came out in 2009, a part of me was curious to see it because it featured two actors you rarely see on television and yet a part of me was also apprehensive upon learning that the drama itself would be another adaptation of Notting Hill. Having seen Star no Koi a few years ago, I already could imagine how difficult it would be to stretch the material culled from a 2-hour movie to a full length series, and while true enough that the Japanese version was not without its own charm, the story staggered towards the finish line mid-season. I[t] barely made it.

So imagine my surprise when I learned that the Korean re-imagining would span 20 episodes instead of the usual 16 and that it would have the reigning queen of hallyu dramas in the pivotal role... well,  let me tell you, it didn't look very promising.

Not quite ready to miss out on Yoo Ji-Tae's return to television, I checked to see the writer in charge of the said series and found out that it was Oh Soo Yun, who's best known for Autumn in My Heart and Winter Sonata. Right then and there, I knew that A Star's Lover was a bad bet. Known for producing overly sentimental dramas dipped in angst and despair, this writer owed much of her success [abroad] to the gravitational pull of the stars featured in her works and her ability to engage audiences with simple, heartfelt scenarios. And though not the best when it comes to developing a story (anyone who's seen an Oh Soo Yun drama knows that the conflict in them often defy logic and are dragged on till kingdom come)---she can be credited  for  drumming in memorable sequences by craftily setting up scenes accentuated by a central theme, a design, even a product placement.

A boy who became a clump of weed and a girl who became a star in the heavens. Two persons, living at two ends of the world. Will they have the opportunity to be able to recognize each other?

So disregarding the agony that her "Season Dramas" brought me and keeping in mind fond memories of little Joon-suh and Eun-suh riding their bikes in the country, along with that scene wherein an overaged Bae Yong Joon tried to pass himself off as a high school student, playing First Time to Choi Ji Woo in an empty classroom, I checked out A Star's Lover thinking I'd at least have 3 to 6 decent episodes to work with before the whole thing  proceeded to torture its viewer (i.e. me) with recurring issues that would eventually be resolved through the simplest of means. As it turned out I wasn't far off the mark, seeing that all they needed to wrap up the story was to declare their love to each other before the paparazzi and they chose to accomplish this towards the end, around the 19th episode tsk tsk.

Thinking back, the series started out quite nicely. I've never seen Choi Ji Woo quite as luminous or Yoo Ji Tae so attractive. Heck, this was the first series wherein Choi Ji Woo actually looked confident and comfortable in her own skin, and perhaps the only series where she had leading men who towered above her and made her look more feminine. The scenes shot in Asuka, Japan were beautiful to say the least and it was obvious that attention was placed into making each encounter between regular joe Chul Soo and superstar Mari extra special to complement the fairytale finish. There was an undeniable chemistry between the leads, a sense of familiarity and comfort that would make you root for this OTP. It's quite unfortunate though that they tried to stretch and complicate such a simple story. The fluffy, dreamy appeal of this series soon disappeared as the whole business on ghostwriting kicked in and auxiliary characters figured their way into the story. Indeed, it was quite a journey. I would not have been able to make it through without my remote in hand.

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And though I was wont to let this series go, without breathing so much as a word, I also felt it necessary to commemorate the fact that I finished watching it after stalling for two years.

Seeing that I have the tendency to remember stupid, frivolous things about kdramas like how Hyun Bin was sweating through his pink shirt at the last episode of My Name is Kim Sam Soon or how Jo Hyun Jae had a small band-aid stuck under his eye for the majority of One Mom and Three Dads, I figured, why not make a list of things that I would remember about A Star's Lover instead of straight out ranting about the disconsolate route it took to see its ending? I mean, people out there would probably do a better job at writing a review or discussing the finer points of this series, so why not revel in the bits and pieces that made me go "ooh", "ahh" and "grrrr"? 

 So here are 6 things that stuck out for me in this series:

1.) Chul Soo and Young Hee

Given its plot, I didn't expect A Star's Lover to begin the way it did. The series, in fact, opened with a vignette; a thoughtful commentary on how love was the most common and yet the greatest of all sentiments, and how the ever changing world made the notion of loving someone more complex as society progressed. Deriving inspiration from the movie Amélie and the defunct American series Pushing Daisies, the kdrama was able to establish a dreamlike atmosphere, albeit without the same touch of whimsy, in telling the backstory of Chul Soo and Young Hee.

The overall concept was to make the series out into an urban fairytale, unfortunately, the narration and visual styling of the first few episodes did not make its way to the end of the series. It got watered down and subsumed into the existential drama that devoured the characters that by the time I reached the last episode, I almost forgot about its unique opening sequence. 

2.) Learning to Cross that Line

Young Chul Soo, being the ever obedient son, did not dare cross that line that his mother drew on the ground. With tears in his eyes and a crumpled bill in his hand, he failed to chase after his mother because that line created an invisible barrier, one that no human being could cross...until the gorgeous Lee Mari, in her pretty black boots, stomped her way through and taught him how easy it was. So yeah, I reckon it was used to show how Chul Soo was a straight-laced individual and how he was the type to color within the lines, but the very idea of him drawing a line on the ground to prevent both Mari and Eun Young from getting close to him was just a load of crap.

3.) The Color of Sadness

If one were to  go by this series, the color of sadness and longing would be a mix of sepia, auburn, sienna, and burnt amber with touches of  indian yellow, set against a murky shade of cadmium red and vermilion. Yes, old memories came with a color scheme. No one's allowed to look into the past without a change of color.

4.) A Room Full of Books

Chul Soo must have been one lonely boy. There were books everywhere---they were on the shelves, on the floor, they lined his walls. Was there ever any reason to doubt how literate and well-read our humble hero was?

5.) Vanilla Ice Cream

Ah, the Yonsama look-alike that disappeared after going out to get vanilla ice cream...Who would have thought that a frozen dairy product could cause so much pain and torment? (Hm, serves her right for sending her lover out in the dead of winter for vanilla ice cream.) Believe it or not, this little story device had a very brief appearance. Aside from being mentioned like 4x, Mari's fixation with it melted when Chul Soo came around. It served its purpose the moment the man Mari was fated to be with appeared before her, carrying 32 flavors and then some.

6.) Pride and Prejudice

So Chul Soo reluctantly travels to Japan to ghostwrite Lee Mari's travel diary and what book does he bring with him? He brings the tv-movie tie-in paperback edition of Pride and Prejudice. Yep, the one with Keira Knightley's face on it. Ach, the horror! Major fantasy overload! Can anyone say overkill?

He was charming enough as the literature professor who thwarted his student's advances by correcting/editing the love letter given to him as if it were a test paper, but was it really necessary to depict him as someone engrossed in Jane Austen? And in public no less. I don't freakin care about what people say about the character being sensitive or romantic but (darn it!) grown men do not lug around Pride and Prejudice. He has a room full of books to choose from and he picks Pride and Prejudice?

So okay, maybe he was reading it in preparation for a class or something but considering the series went on and on about how cultured and well read he was, dropping random book titles from The Great Gatsby to Eugene Onegin, would it really have been too much to ask for him to read something safe and appropriate by say, Hemingway or Dostoevsky?

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You know what's sad about all this is that I'll probably end up forgetting numbers 1-5 on this list but I'll always remember Yoo Ji Tae pretending to read Pride and Prejudice. 

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