Just Between Lovers: Episode 1

There's something so poignant in the way this drama depicts pain and suffering of loss, that by the time the first episode had ended, I found myself fully immersed in the world that it had set up. When watching, it's as if personal tragedies are given a narrative voice of their own, which is being spoken through the lens of the camera in the way scenes are directed and shot. And whilst the drama has proven to be visually stunning, it doesn't take away from the grittiness of the tragic reality it seeks to convey. The drama has often been described as a "melodrama", and I went into it thinking it would be just that; however, what I wasn't expecting, was for it to be the opposite. Yes, like with any drama, there's always bound to be a dramatic pull to the narrative, but the way in which the drama has been executed, it tames down those dramatic cues, and effectively mutes the overly exaggerated cliches one would expect from your average melodrama. I guess one could call it a drama that is grounded in realism, fairly dark and pessimistic, but one that is also aesthetically pleasing - and it's this very contradictory nature that I find most appealing for it doesn't leave you in a constant pit of despair, rather it engulfs you with a resounding sense of hope that even after hardship, there comes ease.


I honestly love how this drama is all about perspective. Kang-doo looks in on his former employer who not only belittles him, but also makes him unemployed for speaking up for workers' rights. The camera captures his pain and disbelief in full view, whilst the man, who's too busy stuffing himself, fails to notice he's even there. The scene perfectly captures the hypocrisy of a society that is too selfish to notice the needs of others, and that will always put itself first, whilst shamelessly taking advantage of others. 

The moment when Moon-soo finds a bloodied up Kang-doo, is again all about perspective. At first, she's hidden from his view, and it isn't until she seeks him following this maze like path, does he realise her presence. The fate like connection they share is beautifully captured by the camera work as it unites the two characters under varying circumstances, only to find that each is a source of healing for the other. This is the second time Kang-doo reaches out to Moon-soo, the first time being on the staircase when she was about to fall. And even though the action of reaching out for the other is significant, what I find touching is how the two end up meeting half way whilst battling their own personal anxieties.

Another poignant shot in the drama is when we see Kang-doo break down the memorial wall in anger and brute frustration; the scene is captured alongside a shot of Moon-soo doing the same to an architectural model of the building collapse, which claimed hundreds of lives. There's clearly an emotional connection there which ties the two together as a result of sharing the same tragedy, but whilst Kang-doo vents it out openly, we see Moon-soo suppressing those feelings in, taking it out on a replica of the model instead. Both their actions speak volumes about their healing, or lack thereof. For Kang-doo, his anger is aimed at the people who seek to commemorate the dead for nothing more than commercial purposes, whilst failing to compensate the living who are forced to re-live the tragedy for the rest of their lives. The guilt of being a survivor, whilst losing all those around him, haunts him day and night, leading him to inflict self-harm. It's as though he's using his physical scars to hide the pain of his emotional ones, when both are in desperate need of healing.

From the outside, it seems like Kang-doo is the one who's suffering the most, as he chooses to grieve in ways which are pretty self-destructive - i.e. opting for hard, physical labour, provoking others into a fight, fighting other people's battles, and so fourth; however, when we see Moon-soo at work, we notice how they're not actually all that different. It's just that her guilt takes on a different shape to Kang-doo's. Whether at home or in the office, we see how Moon-soo tends to her work quietly without depending on others, how she forces herself to grieve by eating spicy food because she knows no other way, and how she helps others to survive first and foremost. 

By the end of the episode, what's made clear is that the aftermath of tragedy doesn't end with the number of deaths, rather it starts with the number of survivors; and ensuring that they receive the help that they need, to live the rest of their lives with as much normalcy as possible, is and should be a collective responsibility.