Source: twitch[FIRST LOOK] 바람의 화원 (Painter of the Wind)Posted by X at 2:19pm.
Posted in TV , Asia.
It’s hard to start when there’s nothing on that canvas. It’s hard for a writer, no matter if it’s a pro we’re dealing with or not, imagine for a painter. Hell, imagine, for instance, what it would be for a broadcaster. What SBS did in 1991 was exactly that. Competition by then had sort of become a moot issue, since with only two stations worth mentioning (MBC and KBS), and each enjoying various periods of boom and famine, it was only a matter of who would end up enjoying near total domination, it wasn’t a real conflict. But when the third choice arrived, things started to change. SBS bought (literally) the best writers, PDs and actors from the two other major stations, breaking decade-long exclusive contracts. They attracted the biggest stars, simply throwing money at the wall. They slowly but surely got several local broadcasters under their wings, such as Busan’s KNN, Daegu’s TBC, Daejeon’s TJB and Gwangju’s KBC, airing what was then known as just 서울방송 (Seoul Broadcasting System) in some of the biggest markets outside the capital. Signal was still poor in many areas, and along with aggressive “appropriation” techniques, the political slant of the channel was always obvious, with Taeyoung Group holding 30% of the shares at the start. Not exactly the most artistic of starts for Korea’s first private channel, but it worked.
What probably hasn’t worked incredibly well during the last 17 years is creating an image for itself. SBS has been known mostly for its decidedly right-wing slant on the news/current events side, but when it comes to dramas, all you remember is big potboilers throwing a lot of money at the wall hoping it would stick. Think of manhwa adaptations like 아스팔트 사나이 (The Asphalt Man) in 1995, with Lee Byung-Heon, Jung Woo-Sung, Choi Jin-Shil and Lee Young-Ae. Think of 올인 (All In) 8 years later, and the endless list of Korean wave trendy dramas shot overseas and written by people who shouldn’t touch scripts with a ten foot pole. Sad, because if you look at SBS’ first 17 years, there’s actually a few gems you can single out. Two particularly stand out in the 90s, and they both not surprisingly have something to do with history. One was the legendary 모래시계 (The Sandglass), the other the not as famous – but just as good – 1996 sageuk 임꺽정 (Im Kkeok-Jeong). You’ll find plenty (well, relatively) of watchable series between 1991 and today, but these two stand out as the only masterpieces this channel produced in the last 17 years. So much for painting the canvas with something distinctive.
It’s a peculiar problem, because everything the channel does, they’re pigeonholed even before the start. One good recent case would be 왕과 나 (The King and I), which never enjoyed any chance despite being far superior to 이산 (Yi San), and sort of self-imploded under pressure created by competition, internal struggles, bad press, unrealistic expectations from the public and idiotic decisions by its producers, Olive9 on top. It’s no secret SBS is the most “commercial” of all stations in Korea, with really very little space for diversity, or anything escaping from the usual populist canon. Yet, the last two years have started showing some progress, at least on the diversity front. Social satire like 강남엄마 따라잡기 (Gangnam Mom) was something you couldn’t even dream to see on SBS just a few years ago, and despite the fact they periodically shoot themselves in the foot, things like 비천무 (Bichunmoo), 달콤한 나의 도시 (My Sweet Seoul), 사랑해 (I Love U) and last in line 신의 저울 (The Scale of Providence) show not all SBS produces is, well, crap. Problem, of course, is sageuk.
Ever since its founding and 1991’s 유심초 (Yushimcho) by Shin Bong-Seung, the channel has tried and tried to carve its own niche, something a little distanced from KBS’ sober and traditionalist authentic sageuk, and MBC’s grass roots fusion – or anything not dealing with kings, after their historical orgasm in the 80s with 조선왕조500년 (500 Years of Joseon). They could have found their own space if they followed up 1998’s entertaining 홍길동 (Hong Gil-Dong) with the third and final “chapter” in the heroic thieves series which started with Im Kkeok-Jeong, but not too surprisingly they dropped the ball. They did end up making 장길산 (Jang Gil-San) a full six years later, but the momentum was lost already. The station did find amazing success with 2001’s 여인천하 (Ladies of the Palace), but it was just way too loud and over the top to leave any lasting impression. Most of their other efforts in the genre suffered from bad scripts, even worse acting, and laughable production values. Which brings us to the present.
Sageuk as it was known – anyone who started watching the genre from 대장금 (Dae Jang Geum), Koreans or foreigners as they may be, doesn’t really realize what a proper historical drama is – remains nothing more than a dying genre, replaced by fusion sageuk, that is an excuse to dress up trendy dramas with pretty clothes, in most cases. The idea at the origin of this “fusion” concept was to mix two completely different elements, and while retaining their distinctive uniqueness coming up with a sum in which each completed the other. For instance, Lee Byung-Hoon was able to talk about certain historical figures without the need to bother with kings in 허준 (Hur Joon) and 상도 (Sang Do). The two shows focused heavily on the two’s professions (physician, merchant), added some historical details, and packaged everything into an easy to follow story. It was a little different from the sageuk people were used to see, but not enough to alienate them. On the other hand, it was different enough that those who always neglected the genre (younger viewers) finally started paying attention. That fine balance between old and new, history and new dramatic sensibilities is what made fusion sageuk interesting. But today that balance is lost.
To explain why, one would need a decent historical background, something today’s younger viewers seem to lack in droves, and one of the reasons producers get away with it (those complaining are always grumpy old bastards, or… ahem, slightly younger. Grumpy bastards, that is). Not 주몽 (Jumong) nor 황진이 (Hwang Jin-Yi), not even supposedly “traditional” sageuk like 대조영 (Dae Jo-Young) have much to do with history, which is why any new sageuk appearing inside production lists always brings veteran fans the good old cold sweats: how badly are they going to screw it up this time? 일지매 (Iljimae) was enough already, did we need to bother sacred cows like Shin Yoon-Bok and Kim Hong-Do as well? Apparently yes. Watching the first two episodes of SBS’ latest tentative at finally making one decent fusion sageuk, 바람의 화원 (Painter of the Wind), one suddenly understands why Lee Byung-Hoon was so obsessed with the subject, enough that he ended up half-assing it on Yi San. This thing… good grace. It’s beautiful.
When I say that, I just don’t mean that Moon Chae-Won is kind of hot (though spending a few hours in acting school wouldn’t hurt), the art design is top notch, and that I love the way painting is visualized on the screen as if it was the painter’s imagination. No, I mean the entire production, from music to CG, from cinematography to the costumes, from the research behind all the paintings beyond superficial notions (several experts on the matter offered their insight during the making of the show, and the paintings are just stunning), and the little touches in the dialogue and characterization showing newcomer Lee Eun-Young didn’t just study a couple of books to write this, but that she had knowledge and historical consciousness of her own. You can smell the difference between this and, say, Yi San looking at the way the relationship between King Jeongjo and Queen Mother Jeongsun is handled. In the former, it was a gloriously idiotic mess of cliches and superficiality, whereas here, even if they’ve been on a total of 10 minutes out of two entire episodes (total of around two hours and a half), you can see that everything feels right. That there’s thinly veiled tension between Jeongjo and Byeokpa stalwart Queen Mother Jeongsun, the woman many think was one of the major culprits responsible for Crown Prince Sado’s (Jeongjo’s father) tragic death. This is the same relationship masterfully crafted by last year’s 한성별곡-正 (Conspiracy in the Court), and since as the drama goes on the focus will exactly go back to the Prince Sado accident, one can’t help but be excited about this.
No, it’s just the whole thing that’s exciting. The idea from the drama comes from Lee Jung-Myeong’s interesting novel of the same name, which made an interesting point, or at least used a very palatable possibility to make good drama: Danwon Kim Hong-Do and Hyewon Shin Yoon-Book were two of the very best painters Joseon had seen, and ironically lived during the same period, and frequented the Dohwaseo (Royal Bureau of Painting) at the same time. There were quite a few paintings from the two with almost suspiciously similar subjects. Yet, strange enough, you’ll be drowning with material about Danwon if you look for it, whereas Hyewon’s life is clouded in mystery. Kim ended up winning Jeongjo’s trust (one of the three kings he served) along with some important positions in the court, whereas Shin Yoon-Bok was expelled from the Dohwaseo, and spent his life dealing with very pungent satire about the people around him. It was like an enfant terrible, too provocative, innovative, creative for the era he was living in. Enough to start wondering, what if it wasn’t just his painting style to blame? What if he was in truth a woman, trying to disguise herself as a man among the strict Neo-Confucian creed which colored Joseon’s society for centuries? A wild conjecture at best, but not entirely worthless, particularly when it comes to drama.
You can imagine where this could be going, but you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how un-trendy drama like this show feels. It has class, the kind of elegance something like Hwang Jin-Yi could only dream of. It has its silly moments (at times a little too silly for my liking, but in the writer’s favor, they never become useless, as they’re always tied to the main story), but it rarely breaks the flow, and when it gets going it feels… finally, like a real drama, not Teletubbies with hanboks prancing around so that simpletons can tell Momma they’ve finally watched a sageuk. There’s complexity you can’t just solve by rewatching the show, it almost forces you to go back to the history books or documentaries to refresh your memory. For instance, the drama takes one of Shin’s most famous paintings, 기다림 (Wait), which had nothing to do with Queen Mother Jeongsun (never mentioned in the original novel), and attaches palace intrigue to it, involving all the major characters around a single point. It’s very simple, but brilliantly handled. And if writer Lee, who comes from Chungmuro but is impressive as a sageuk newcomer, keeps up with the intricate synopsis (quite meaty, but they always are. On paper) and can actually connect all the dots within the next 18 episodes, this is truly going to turn into an interesting experience.
Of course, not everything is perfect. The reason why Park Shin-Yang has said to the press “this isn’t a sageuk” is probably because he’s acting as if this wasn’t one. Watch 쩐의 전쟁 (War of Money) or this, it’s the same tone and delivery, same facial expression, same gestures and posture. Park does have his own, unique charm, but frankly when he has to carry the drama on his shoulders things become a little risky. Also, sometimes the beautiful music tends to get a little too showy for its own good (I’m watching a drama, not a Glenn Gould concert. A’ight?). Also please, please, let’s keep characters whose sole purpose is to be funny away from anything important, since they’re not. Still, Bae Soo-Bin as King Jeongjo doesn’t disappoint, and Im Ji-Eun, returning to sageuk for the first time since 2003’s 어사 박문수 (Royal Emissary Park Moon-Soo), is just wonderful as Queen Mother Jeongsun. But the real gem is Moon Geun-Young. This is not her first sageuk, as she played the younger version of Lee Mi-Yeon in Jung Ha-Yeon’s 2001 명성황후 (The Last Empress)—better than Lee Mi-Yeon, at that – but she’s just magnificent here, the best acting of her career so far. If you watched this without knowing who she was, or going in without any background knowledge, you’d seriously have a hard time realizing it’s actually a woman playing this character. Her tomboy-like energy and panache is a joy to watch, and perhaps the reason, despite the few warts which should surely pop along the way, this might actually become one of the few sageuk worthy of their name this year....
RATING Ep. 2 of 2 aired (20 Total): 8
바람의 화원 (Painter of the Wind)
SBS – Wed/Thu Nights
PD: 장태유 (Jang Tae-Yoo)
WRITER: 이은영 (Lee Eun-Young)
CAST: 박신양 (Park Shin-Yang), 문근영 (Moon Geun-Young), 임지은 (Im Ji-Eun), 배수빈 (Bae Soo-Bin), 김응수 (Kim Eung-Soo), 이준 (Lee Joon), 안석환 (Ahn Seok-Hwan)
