It's So Hard to Say Good-bye: Crash Landing On You
Review of Crash Landing On You (Netflix)
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I wanted to write a very wry review of this drama demonstrating my frustration at its meandering and repetitive plot. I was so bored by all the good-bying that I wanted to give up on watching the drama early, and often. But I won’t write this review like this….because when I finally began to understand the drama’s narrative (which I admit only happened at the end of episode 15), I felt a little ashamed at my initial reaction. I realized that the “goodbye” forms the bedrock of melodrama. It is the stuff bittersweet dreams are made of. Sometimes good-byes feel like emotional manipulation designed to engineer audience obsession over a character or plot (think Dr. Romantic 2, my next review). But Crash Landing On You is an exception. The drama’s repetitive goodbyes serve a succinct purpose….to remind the audience of the goodbye that the Korean people never got upon their country’s partition.
I realized that I didn’t like the drama at first because I only took it at face value. The first twelve episodes played like saccharine melodrama that I interpreted as yet another spin on the Romeo and Juliet narrative. This approach is not so far-fetched. It is hard to imagine a more divided house than Korea given that the peninsula remains under the imminent threat of war and international interference at all times. Yet, it is with sadness rather than fear or anxiety that this story of contemporary Korea is told. The mournful backdrop demonstrates an important contradistinction: despite the South’s access to unprecedented international cultural acclaim and capital accumulation, South Koreans remain completely separated from those that they are closest to. The people who share their language, history, culture and even genealogy.
But before this review gets too crushingly sad. Let’s go back to the beginning. The main reason I was eager to watch this drama is that I am obsessed (pretty sure that is the right word) with Park Ji-eun. I believe her to be one of the great drama writers of our time, if not the greatest. Her previous work, My Love from a Star (2013), was a gorgeous piece of writing and marvelously executed to boot. An epic defying the rules of time and space to make the viewer feel the most intimate emotions, both filial and romantic. Her follow-up Producers used a small workplace setting to ponder the very meaning of life and nature of belonging. Both titles remain on my top 10 dramas despite having watched nearly 100 Korean dramas at this point (did I mention I am 41 and single?).
Yoon Se-Ri and Jung Hyuk. What are the odds these two gorgeouses found each other outside a movie set? (tvN still)
Then, who could forget 2016? When Park’s Legend of the Sea and veteran Kim Eun-sook’s Goblin were pitted against each other in a battle of the ages. While the ratings matched in numbers, Kim would emerge the clear winner as cable audiences were much smaller than network audiences at the time (a trend that is quickly changing). Kim would then re-emerge at the beginning of 2018 with Mr. Sunshine to match her previous attempt with the latter drama just narrowly failing to overtake Goblin’s popularity. In my opinion, Legend was good but it was not great. I bid my own farewell to the drama after episode 9 and have looked back with neither wonder nor regret since my departure. With Crash, I feel that Park Ji-Eun mixed the histrionics of Goblin and the political intrigue of Mr. Sunshine. But she did it better and now she has the ratings to prove it. The drama earned a whopping 21% in its final episode, placing it second only to SKY Castle, the 2018-19 juggernaut from JTBC on the list of most popular cable dramas of all time (see Wikipedia Korean Drama).
Back to the sadness. The repetition of South Korea’s traumatic political reality is mirrored in the main character Yoon Se-ri’s (played by Son Ye-jin) traumatic backstory. I have never really been a fan of this actress (which is sacrilege as a K-enthusiast, I know) but her ability to perform poise to disguise quiet desperation is truly something to behold. Her bravado as the CEO of a successful beauty company is contrasted with flashbacks of several suicide attempts linked to her mother’s attempted abandonment and her brothers’ resentment of her business acumen and inheritance of the family corporation. The story opens with her chasing a photo op for her company when she is caught in a freak storm while paragliding. She finds herself lost in North Korea and ends up being taken in by a stoic soldier, Jung Hyuk (played by Hyun Bin), that is totally immune to her charms….for approximately one day. Hyun Bin is one of the most lovely looking men in existence and his quiet and contemplative performance seems perfect for a doomed romance. He plays his character with such economy so that Ye-jin always remains the centerpiece of the drama. In doing so, they model a truly supportive and equal heterosexual partnership that is not always common to Kdramas where male characters often function as the main decision-makers and movers of plot.
While residing in North Korea with Jung Hyuk, escape plan after escape plan fail and Se-ri is “found out” by his neighbours and village leaving the beleaguered duo to fake their engagement. Heterosexual fantasy rarely allows fake lovers to avoid becoming real lovers and Crash follows suit. Yet, Park Ji-eun makes this trope work by creating a love story about two lonely people who are terrible at interpersonal relationships except for the one they are forced to fake. Through the couple’s deception, Se-ri is able to find a family that she never had which is both heartwarming and foreboding because the more she charms and falls in love with this community, the more the painful good byes start to pile up.
At first she feels smug and superior to the countryside ladies and only infiltrates their social circle to ensure that Jung Hyuk receives a promotion to help aid her escape better. Yet, when Jung Hyuk’s real-life and statuesque fiancée Seo Dan (played pretty masterfully by Seo Ji-hye) returns from abroad, the ladies stan for Se-ri pretty hard. She interprets their support as condescending at first (and it is!) but realizes that it comes from the deepest loyalty and respect which is very “foreign” to her experiences in life thus far. As the self-proclaimed “picky princess”, she spends very little time showing love and affection to others or herself until she spends time with her newfound friends. There are great scenes with the women supporting each other in Se-ri’s absence which also demonstrates the strength of women caught in difficult positions as they try to make a life under an oppressive military regime. Se-ri (whom they only knew as an elite spy) is only able to say good-bye to the women in a note but she uses her new beauty line as a tribute to their kindness by employing each of their likenesses on the product boxes. This touching acknowledgment also reinforces the pervasive myth that the most beautiful women in Korea hail from the North (see Hong 2014).
Trouble not only arrives with Seo Dan but Se-ri’s ex boyfriend Goo Seung-joon (played by scene stealer Kim Jung-Hyun….remember that name, people!) who attempts to find safe haven in North Korea after conning Se-ri’s power-hungry brother. At the outset, he seems inconsistent, as a bossy and domineering individual but then is shown to be easily intimidated by almost everyone as it is slowly revealed he is not a man of means and is not used to the trappings of wealth. It is actually revenge rather than greed that has led to his malfeasance. Se-ri’s brother swindled his late father (the same brother also orchestrates a nefarious plot to “keep her in North Korea”…he’s a real charmer) and his connection to Se-ri is an attempt to control the family fortune. This is all forsaken when he meets Seo Dan. As she becomes increasingly distraught by Jung Hyuk’s disinterest in her and his loyalty to Se-ri, she slowly warms to Seung-joon. He falls in love with her in the most devoted and verbose way and in protecting her from the Chinese mobsters on his tail, he misses his only chance to leave North Korea and eventually perishes in a fire fight. Goo Seung-joon’s multiple confessions and his final good-bye in the back of an ambulance provide Seo Dan with the adoration that she craved from Jung Hyuk. Theirs is the true tragic tale but this experience gives Seo Dan the strength to go forward on her own instead of locked into a loveless arranged marriage that she endured for the decade prior.
Seo Dan and Goo Seung-joon (tvN still)
For me, the ultimate good-bye was between Jung Hyuk’s mother and Seo Dan’s mother when they agree to break off the couple’s betrothal. Seo Dan’s mother reveals that she loves another man and that he loves her in return. The heartbreaking reality that only Seo Dan’s mother and the audience knows is that her love has been killed while protecting her. It is one thing to witness a good-bye between two individuals but it is another thing to witness someone’s pain being narrated by another. The narration of Seo Dan’s loss by her mother makes this one of the most heartbreaking moments I have ever seen in television history. While initially committed to her daughter’s marriage at all costs, as a method of comfort she asks her if she would like her to seek out another arrangement after the bethrothal is broken. Seo Dan asks to remain single, like many other women fighting sexist confines of marriage in Korea (see ‘Til Death), because as one of the most fashion forward women in the North she wants to follow “trend”. Can you hear her in the back?!
One of the most touching good-byes in the drama is between Jung Hyuk and his villainous nemesis, Cho Cheol-gang (played by Oh Man-seok) who upon being shot by multiple South Korean bullets lies to Jung Hyuk about his destiny in order to convince him to “leave” the world with him. After betraying his home country through the illegal excavation of graves (as well as murder and extortion using military time and resources etc.), he escapes to South Korea to enact his revenge against Se-ri believing that he will be exonerated for his efforts. He is foiled by an adept Jung Hyuk and a history of building and burning bridges with disloyal people only to realize that he cannot return to the North and cannot stay in the South. He is without family or comrades or a home. His attempts to manipulate Jung Hyuk in this crucial moment are not an act of malice or revenge but a pitiful bid to avoid being alone after living such a miserable, and violent, life. Despite his vile nature, his fate is the tragedy of a misguided soul who has no one to mourn his loss.
Alongside the women in the village, Se-ri is cared for Jung Hyuk’s battalion of four men who witnessed her crossing into North Korea. The four (played by Yang Kyung-won; Yoo Soo-bin, Tang Jun-sang; and Lee Shin-young) are all very different in character, one self-assured (for no reason), one who is obsessed with the South, one who is an innocent youth from the countryside and one who is known to be handsome and shy. They eventually travel to South Korea to help Jung Hyuk protect her from his errant captain. The good-byes between the battalion and Se-ri seem unending as every failed escape plan requires one. The final moment at the DMZ is brought on fast and impromptu (in demonstrating some newfound motherly love, her mother races her to the border before they leave) and she is unable to embrace her new “brothers”. They call to her wishing her luck and health in restrained and stoical ways. They are all in tears and talk among themselves about how much they miss her making this reserved good-bye all the more painful even at its most sincere. The resignation of the North and South’s separation is most pronounced in this exchange.
The romance between Yoon Se-ri and Jung Hyuk is told chronologically through a set of good-byes, a device that routinely gestures to the ending of love as opposed to its genesis. When she finally returns to the South, they have an awkwardly sad (and chaste!) moment at a grassy alcove (where you can walk across the border?!) most likely due to his engagement and the reality of permanent separation. The romance ramps up when despite his reserved nature and affinity for rules, he crosses the border briefly for an honest and glorious kiss. When he later finds out that she is in danger in the South, he crawls for 20 hours through a tunnel to reach the southern peninsula to ensure her safety. When the situation goes awry and he is taken into custody by the South Korean police, he is offered a chance to stay but he chooses to return to the North to ensure the safety of his parents and battalion (his only remaining family). To ensure that Se-ri does not get in trouble aiding him while in the South, he testifies that he kidnapped her and used her reprehensibly. While incarcerated, their good bye is strained as he fakes insincerity to “protect” her from the law and from further trauma of being abandoned. Protection such as this erodes both choice and honesty and generally only leads to regret. Such is the case in Crash, when despite doubting his testimony, Se-ri falls gravely ill and almost leaves this world with little more than his performed indifference. In her illness (and without her knowledge), he stays by her side and departs happily when she regains consciousness without correcting her impression. It is only when they meet again at the border during a tense standoff that they have one last tearful embrace. He leaves her text messages every day for a year so she can “know” him better and as a result she becomes a much happier and more supportive person. These messages provide a sense of hope that the two will finally find a way to meet each other again in the place where they first met (Swtizerland). And they do, although it takes many years and missed opportunities to do so. Park’s endings are only partially “happy” in that they always accompany separation. In Crash, the leads are only permitted two weeks per year together to see each other., which indicates an ongoing set of good-byes.
What all this good-bying accomplishes is the demonstration of how much grief looks like love. A friend of mine who was experiencing a traumatic loss once told me that she did not want to lose her grief because it meant losing her love. This drama shows a simple but powerful understanding of love in two ways: those who love are grateful for their loved one’s birth and they are mournful for their loved one’s death. While perhaps less dramatic than the tropes of sacrifice and adoration that are prevalent in romance narratives, there is something more mature and patient about this representation of love which actually makes it more seductive.
In the end, I loved watching this drama because it reminded me of why I love Korean dramas in general. I love watching people living diligently and sincerely despite the pain that they have experienced in their lives and the crappy hands they were dealt. It is hard for me to accept this kind of sincerity. On my best days, I embrace it and on my worst days I resent it because it is something I know that I am not capable of conveying or possibly even feeling. The truth is, it is hard for a white, Westerner to understand the diligent sincerity with which this story is told. Storytelling in the West seems to prioritize witty wryness and sarcasm as a means to frustrate the possibility of happy endings because they are construed as unrepresentative of reality. Yet, of all places, the West is actually the place where happy endings have the most probability of occurring….thanks to the extensive exploitation and bullying of the rest of the world. Yet, this ending, which is punctuated by farewells, is more hopeful and tender than some of the happiest endings I have seen produced because it aptly demonstrates that alongside grief and loss there is a possibility for hope and ultimately peace. Even if this only becomes clear when it is time to say good-bye.
References
Hong, Euny. 2014. The birth of Korean cool: how one nation is conquering the world through pop culture. New York: Picador.
2019. ‘Til death will I stay single: South Korea’s #NoMarriage movement. The Strait Times. 6 Dec 2019.
< https://www.straitstimes.com/asia/east-asia/til-death-do-i-stay-single-south-koreas-nomarriage-women>
“Korean Drama”. Wikipedia.org. Retrieved 15 Feb 2020.< https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Korean_drama>