Hyun Bin is outrageously handsome
I love Korean history. And I really love it when Korean film, drama, and literature stop trying to polish it and instead let it bleed. I love post-liberation Korea: the mess of it, the brutality, the improvisation, the uneasy marriage of capitalism and authoritarianism. This period is one of the best narrative sources in modern cinema and art. What I don’t love are those saccharine Joseon fantasies where everyone looks like they just stepped out of a skincare commercial, the women styled with twenty-first-century makeup techniques, the men built like personal trainers, and the past rendered as a kind of nationalist mood board. Too much of that stuff feels less like history and more like branding. No! Give me curfews. Give me dictatorship. Give me the sound of forbidden music bleeding out of cheap radios under military rule. Give me sex, fear, ambition, corruption, and the kind of loud, boisterous energy that only exists when people are surviving under pressure. These things happened right here, on these streets, to the woman rolling my kimbap, to my father-in-law, to my wife when sh