5 years ago5,000+ Views
Well, we survived the week with only one episode, so now we can stop with the withdrawal shakes and rest assured of a second dose tomorrow. Which is a good thing, because I need more happy fuzzy moments to cling to in the midst of our angst parade. I do think there’s hope just around the corner; it’s a nice thing to see everyone firing on all cylinders and closing in on our villain, who may be good at wreaking havoc but is certainly no genius at it. Thank goodness for small favors? Today’s epilogue continues right from the ending scene, as Min-joon straightens after the kiss and starts to walk away. In her sleep, Song-yi’s hand grabs his, holding him there by her side. Her eyes open, tears falling down her face, as she adds, “I keep dreaming that sad dream.” There’s something about this separation that really tugs at my heartstrings in all the right ways, despite being set up amidst circumstances that are pretty familiar to those of us who’ve seen a drama or twenty before. It’s one of this drama’s strengths as a whole, that while it doesn’t reinvent the wheel, it adapts story tropes skillfully and crafts its scenarios with enough compelling internal logic that regardless of whether I’ve felt these narrative beats before (…and I have), I’m still buying what this drama’s selling. For instance, I love how they’re dealing with the romantic angst, particularly on Song-yi’s end. Threatening a main character into a bout of noble idiocy is nothing new, but within the logic of this world, I’m totally with them in feeling pained over the separation. Min-joon has his hands tied in so many ways, not just by the cartoonish villain but also fate/time/the cosmos at large, so that even were Jae-kyung to magically poof away into the ether (which would be nice, wouldn’t it?), his dilemma would remain. He loves her too much to consign her to a lifetime of missing him, but he also loves her too much to actually stay away. Aggggggh. It hurts so good. Maybe there’s something wrong with me to love that twist of angst, but inasmuch as it’s super-effective in making me care, I love it. Kill me now why don’t you. Given that Min-joon is committed to taking himself out of the picture, I’m totally there with sympathy pangs for Song-yi, who is handling the rejection with dignity without being too proud, and also showing her heart without being too mopily pathetic, either. It’s a tough balance to strike, because if you go too far one way or another you’re making your misery worse by either wallowing or denying it. (How many times have we yelled at characters to either get a spine or let go already?) Yet Song-yi walks that fine line, dealing with her feelings in a way that’s both classy and really heart-tugging. The resolution of Song-yi’s blood transfusion issue was almost comically swift, and as a result it hardly even registers as a blip on the emotional radar. So I appreciate it more for its place in the narrative than for the moment itself, because it allowed Song-yi to make peace with her absentee father and move on to the pain of absentee lover. Her dream was a bittersweet callback to Min-joon’s own dream, both of them wishing for nothing more than the most mundane of futures together. Most of all I love that in dreams is truth, and while the waking Song-yi may have to force herself to stay away from Min-joon, the unconscious Song-yi knows that he loves her no matter what he says. It’s a comforting thought that she can feel the strength of his love even when he’s acting contrary to his feelings. Now all we’ve gotta do is make dreams reality. Anybody got a Matrix they’re not doing anything with? by javabeans