Showing posts with label In Retrospect. Show all posts
Showing posts with label In Retrospect. Show all posts

Saturday, March 05, 2011

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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Friday, November 05, 2010

Off a Bridge, Into the Mist


"It must be exciting to be a fighter, to be totally free." 

Stuck in a hotel room out of town, without a laptop and any internet access, I ended  up watching a  documentary on cable entitled The Art of Action: Martial Arts in Motion Picture. Filmed in 2002, the said documentary provided a general overview of the martial arts genre-- tracing its origins and influence  back to the Peking Opera, citing iconic figures and films of note, showcasing clips of classic and modern movies, along with various interviews of directors and artists.

At that time, the genre was at the height of its popularity, it figured prominently in Hollywood movies, and slowly found itself a new audience, one used to the high-octane action and the colorful frenzy offered by MTV. Jacky Chan was on his way into becoming a household name in the West, wire-fu was in vogue and of course,  Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, being one of the most celebrated films from the East, became a frequently discussed topic.

Impressing both critics and audiences worldwide, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, represented the best of Chinese cinema, and therefore it was no surprise that the documentary singled out this movie for its breathtaking images, gravity-defying fight sequences and most of all, its tragic love story. The movie in itself might not have had the same success and recognition it enjoyed in the United States as in its native country, but Ang Lee's first entry into the wuxia genre certainly made quite an impression on the industry and the  general viewing public. Everyone had their own take on the film and basically everyone had their own personal reason for loving [or hating] it. And while Chinese audiences initially shunned the overly romanticized elements of it and treated the martial arts sequences as standard fare for such films, the fact that it took home an Oscar and became an acclaimed box office hit abroad made a lot of people sit up and take notice.

Director Tsui Hark attributed the film's success to its story and how the issues confronting its characters, specifically that of a rebellious teen, remain relevant in contemporary society; Donnie Yen, on the other hand, effusively praised the poetry of specific scenes; critics and film analysts adjudged it to be a prime example of how arthouse cinema successfully crossed over to mainstream; and just about any martial artist/actor/stunt man harped on Yuen Woo-Ping's unparalleled skill in choreographing fight scenes that matched a  film's aesthetic.

"Whatever path you decide to take in this life... be true to yourself."  

There's certainly much to appreciate about this movie, for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon appealed to everyone's sensibilities, providing a potent mix of action, romance, political intrigue, and social commentary in one beautiful period piece. To some, it's a love story of epic proportions, to others it's a carefully crafted tale about three women's struggle for identity and honor in a male-dominated society steep with stifling conventions and outmoded traditions. Within a decade of its release, numerous interpretations have been made regarding the movie's underlying theme(s), fans and netizens have come up with their own theories, but very few really focused on tying everything up with the movie's ending.

Artistically rendered with care to the very last frame, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon admittedly gives way to a bittersweet ending-- Jen (Zhang Ziyi) tells Lo (Chang Chen) to recall the legend that he told her in the desert about how a faithful heart makes wishes come true. She then asks him to make a wish before slowly falling off the bridge of Wudan, descending into the mist; in calm surrender, in atonement for her sins. It  seemed like a fitting end to a tempestuous maiden who deprived two people of a chance at happiness but speculation soon surfaced as to whether or not the legend in the film held special meaning... was it merely a device inherent to the genre or was there actually a message behind it?

So Jen gracefully disappears into the mist on account of a legend, with the intention to right past misdeeds, leaving the audience wondering about the reason behind her actions and Shu Lien's reminder, "to thine own self be true".

Watching the documentary made me think about this part of the film, particularly when Ang Lee only gave a statement about how it was a dream of his to film a female character drift serenely into the clouds, without so much as a word on what he meant by giving Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon such an ending. I've read quite a few reviews over the past years and have encountered countless musings on the movie's source material, its connection to Eastern philosophy and how characters' names corresponded to the title of the movie, but none of them captured my imagination as Matthew Levine's thought-provoking article in Bright Lights Film Journal-- Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: The Art Film Hidden Inside the Chop-Socky Flick -- which argued for the presence of strong feminist themes with the fearless postulate that Jen, in all humility, did not only seek redemption by throwing herself over that bridge; she also wished with all heart to be reborn, to be free. When I first read this article, I couldn't believe how much this single line of thought changed the way I viewed this movie. It shifted my attention away from Li Mubai and Shu Lien's love story and permanently drew  my thoughts toward Jen and her dilemma; and there it stayed indefinitely. Five years later, I'd still catch myself thinking about Levine's thesis, others might have reservations about it, but every time I see a Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon clip, I can't help but feel sad for Jen and a part of me would always wonder whether she got her wish.


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Special thanks goes to patrick at http://psdragonfly.livejournal.com/18661.html for the beautiful screencaps that accompany this entry.  
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