I mean that’s the tweet.
I went through my Netflix and Viki history yesterday and counted 60 episodes of Korean dramas that I watched or rewatched in June. It’s not an exact number, because neither platform tells how long you spent on the episode but it balances out.
I watched the entire Kill Me Heal Me (because Park Seo-Joon) on Viki, started watching Memories of the Alhambra (because Hyun Bin) on Netflix, and rewatched most of Stranger, the very first Korean show I ever watched and it absolutely holds up.
I guess I should excuse the ungodly amount of TV I watched on the pandemic, or the fact that that I kind-of self-quarantined for 14 days last month, and/or that I’m studying Korean?
But also, who cares? I’m still al little confused by people who talk about kdramas like they’re all the same thing? I don’t know if they have the concept of prestige TV in Korea, but it seems pretty obvious that there’s a huge range in the genre and quality of Korean shows, and thanks to Netflix and Viki, there’s this insane wealth available to everyone outside Korea.
That being said, the two main shows I watched this month, Kill Me Hill Me and Healer, are as far as I can tell pretty in line with the most basic k-drama tropes.
Both are essentially a romance between a stoic-loner-type man with a tragic backstory, and a spunky/manic-pixie-woman with her own tragic backstory. Amazingly, in both, the two leads knew each other when they were young but don’t remember it (because apparently people can’t remember things before like 8 in Korea?), and in both the woman doesn’t know her true identity. They also both feature evil CEOs, chaebol intrigue, and packs of besuited security guards/gangsters, as is par for the course.
As far as the sexism goes, at least in Healer, the woman’s arc is of parallel importance to the guy’s, whereas in Kill Me Heal Me, she literally exists only to help heal the male lead. Not only that, but he basically tricks her into being his personal maid who’s on call for 24/7, and when she tries pretty rationally to claim that that’s insane, he says well you signed the contract, and also I need you.
Still, the Korean take on the manic-pixie-romantic-heroine (or did the Americans take it from Korea?) is pretty wild. In both Healer and Kill Me, the women are professionals in their late-ish twenties — a psychiatrist and a journalist — with plenty going on in their own lives, and generally try to resist the leading man’s advances at the beginning. They also tend to talk a lot, break rules in very benign ways, embarrass themselves, and dress in normie clothes, to distinguish them from the villain girls/second love interests who are always way better dressed. (Is there an equivalent of being self-deprecating when it’s not about the self?)
But then they just kind of fall into the romantic arc, and nothing else matters? They cry a lot, and pine for their man, and usually save him a few times, often by being brave and standing up to other men, all in the name of love. Although to be fair, that happens to the men too. Because these are romantic dramas obviously.
I’ll save my review of Stranger for another time because I really like that show, and it’s absolutely nothing like these.
To round off the 60 hours, I also started some sappier dramas like Guardian and Revolutionary Love but gave up after one or two episodes, and rewatched scenes from Itaewon Class and Crash Landing on You, though that was actually because I’m studying Korean.