Daebak K-Rambles

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Re-watch value: 2 out of 5 stars

Synopsis

*From DramaList*

A house-poor man and homeless woman become housemates in a drama that examines the institution of marriage and the problems that young people face today. Nam Se Hee is a single man in his early 30’s. He has chosen to not marry. He owns his home, but he owes a lot on his mortgage. Meanwhile, Yoon Ji Ho is a single woman in her early 30’s. She does not own a home and envies those that do. She has given up on dating due to her financial struggles. Yoon Ji Ho begins to live at Nam Se Hee’s house. They become housemates.

Ramblings

*beware of spoilers*

Cast

Ji-ho is played by Jung So-min, whom I haven’t seen since the epic melodrama The Smile Has Left Your Eyes, as well as her cameo in episode 1 of Abyss (don’t watch it). I think she’s sort of been on the down-trend ever since she peaked with her Playful Kiss role. I hated her character in Can We Get Married? so much that I couldn’t even finish the show, and My Father Is Strange has been on my watchlist for ages. She plays sad very well, better than happy.

Se-hee is played by Lee Min-ki. I remember seeing him in the movies Spellbound (2011), where he was quite funny, and in Monster (2014), in which he was terrifying as a serial killer. Unfortunately, I found him super dry in Because This Is My First Life for large swathes of the show. I was afraid Se-hee’s character was going to be tsundere, meaning he gives his girl the cold shoulder and stays emotionless and stoic throughout. But in the moments where he became vulnerable or happy, it was almost a relief to see him break up his terrifying RSKF (resting serial killer face).

Plot

Yoon Ji-ho and her two best friends navigate careers and love in this charming story about 30-somethings in the big city (that is, Seoul).

This show seems straightforward on paper. But it took some narrative chances, and I think they paid off. Ji-ho and Se-hee carry on a secret contract marriage simply because Ji-ho needs a cheap apartment and Se-hee needs a flat mate that can pay rent and take care of his cat. Admittedly, it’s kind of dumb and they truly push the credibility of it in the show. Of course, as the show progresses, they fall in love.

Themes

There was a huge emphasis on breaking down outmoded traditions—such as the new daughter-in-law becoming a virtual slave to her in-laws, especially during holidays and ceremonies. It raised questions like, does all that fluff and unnecessary accommodation have to come along with the marriage? Will all the negative side effects of being married affect the love between two people, or will it just breed resentment?

And further, are marriage and love the same thing? Both Ji-ho and Se-hee’s parents have been married for many years, but are they in happy, fulfilling marriages that still love and respect each other? That question would be met with a resounding NO. So how do you preserve the love? Does being married inherently mean falling out of love eventually?

Interestingly, Ji-ho mentions how much she loved the ending to The Graduate (1967), until she really watched their facial expressions after they settle onto the bus, realizing that the ending wasn’t necessarily happy. Yes, they were together, but at what cost? Were they really in love OR just not in love with their respective partners and looking for a way out? The show goes so far as to mimic the scene in multiple instances. When Ji-ho and Se-hee run to catch the bus to the wedding hall, they sit on the last bench of the bus with the window behind them. And they have those sort of “what now?” expressions tinged with sadness. But at the end of the show, the couple are joined by their friends on the back row, and it’s a totally different vibe. They’re fulfilled; they’re in love; they ran away from marriage like the characters in The Graduate, only to come to terms with it, their own terms.

The most fascinating concept was Ji-ho’s retelling of a book she read once in high school, about a wife and mother who escapes from her home life to a room she rented, a Room 19, simply to unwind and be herself, to have a space that was all her own, a refuge for her to be vulnerable and do what she wanted for a change. Ji-ho couldn’t understand why she’d risk being misunderstood about the room’s existence and then lie about its true nature once her secret gets exposed. But as the show went on, Room 19 came to mean your hidden place, your true motivations, a room where you keep your deepest insecurities and all your vulnerability locked up.

I adored how these concepts were explored, and not just with our main couple. The best friends had story arcs that complemented Ji-ho and Se-hee’s.

Soo-ji is a career woman and all-around bad ass who’d rather sleep around and have fun than commit to a single man. Her Room 19 is her disabled mother, who’s the reason why she slaves away at a high-paying job she hates—it’s all in the hopes of saving enough money to buy a house where both of them could live, since her mother obviously can’t continue living on her own for much longer. Will a good man come along that will dig deep enough for the truth and then stick around after finding out that he’ll eventually be saddled with a disabled mother-in-law? (Shout out to that hilarious reenactment of the 500 Days of Summer dance sequence in episode 8!)

Or how about Ho-rang? Her dating Won-seok for 7 years and longing to be married and have a family—but never communicating that to Won-seok. (Although Won-seok is an epic idiot for not proposing to a girl after 7 years, let alone even considering marriage after so long together!) Ho-rang’s story totally convicted me because I’m definitely the person that looks down on women whose ultimate dream is to be married and have kids and then stay home with said kids. Being a homemaker was always her dream, and she was unapologetic about it. So what if she wants what everyone else wants? So what if it’s old fashioned? Her arc was remarkable, with her and Won-seok breaking up and coming to realize that they still long and miss each other, enough to get over this hump and back together. I love when Won-seok asks Ho-rang why she wants to get married, and she simply says, “Because it’s you.” That makes all the difference. The marriage wasn’t the thing of it. It was him—he is the love of her life, so she would naturally want to fulfill her ultimate dream of marriage and a family with only him.

Ji-ho and Se-hee. Se-hee’s coldness toward the very warm persona of Ji-ho is what started their downfall. And by downfall, I mean the dissolution (or annulment, depending on how you look at it) of their contract marriage. Given many chances to express his true feelings, Se-hee never even managed to talk about the details of his first love, something Ji-ho finds out by chance. In the end, Se-hee lets go of the curse his ex cast on him, whereby she wrote a note that said he doesn’t deserve love. He seemingly took it to heart and denied himself love for so many years. Once he does this and realizes how much he loves and misses Ji-ho, their reunion is deserved. Ji-ho even says, “Thank you for letting me into your Room 19.”

Our main couple get back together and develop a working marriage, basically. They update their yearly contract that cuts out all the fluff and unnecessary accommodations, ensuring that their love comes first. And that’s just how life is. You figure it out, you make mistakes, and you try to be happy. After all, we’re all just living this life for the first time.

Breaking the Mold

In college, Se-hee was in love with a girl and living with her; she became pregnant and lost the baby, but not before his family royally rejects the girl’s inclusion to the family and ousts Se-hee from the family home. I thought his ex scenario was juicy as hell! Usually exes in K-dramas are just incompatible, cheaters, too rich, too poor, etc.—not that they lived together and had a miscarriage! Wow!

And a child out of wedlock isn’t the only table-flipping this show does. Ji-ho escapes her apartment after her colleague attempts to rape her. She leans on Se-hee, showing up at his house in her pajamas, and he takes her in no questions asked. I personally feel Ji-ho abandoning her career as a writer over the attempted rape was a mistake, but I felt the writing did her character justice in showing how she felt, how she couldn’t or wouldn’t share what happened, how she was scared, how she seemed silenced by the ordeal, and how she was coping (even if it wasn’t necessarily healthy). It was a nice touch that she eventually filed criminal charges against the young director, which again, kudos for making the attempted rapist a young, handsome guy with a good reputation! It’s not always the ones you expect. Believe the victim.

Last but not least, Soo-ji battles workplace sexual harassment for most of the show, and her strategy is to deflect and ignore, occasionally throwing passive aggressive darts that don’t land on her dumb-as-dirt frat boy coworkers. After getting confronted about her enabling behavior, she steps up and actually has a conversation with the main culprit, giving him a chance to apologize in public to her. He tacks on his lame apology at the end of a drink toast effectively sweeping his shit under the table. I loved how Soo-ji just lost her mind in that moment. Preying on the predator, she follows the ass hole back to the office and punches the shit out of his face, knocking him back into an elevator just before the doors close. If he wasn’t going to take responsibility, then she was going to make it clear that she’s not one to mess with anymore. If you think it’s over, it’s not; and if you think you’re forgiven, you’re not. GO, UNNI, GO!!

Recommendation

If this spoiler-ific review hasn’t convinced you to watch this show, just know that our main couple have a handful of STEAMY kisses, including a beachside make-out session that left me fanning myself. And like, there’s a ridiculously cute cat in this show.

Did you see Because This Is My First Life? Tell me your thoughts in the comments below!