Naui Haebangilji

Most of the Korean dramas I've seen so far have been more of a romantic-comedy sort of vein. There is nothing wrong with that, and I've enjoyed a bunch of them, but this is not one of those. This show actually felt quite real and honest.

A bunch of aspects about this show stood out as great to me: The depictions of family life are incredibly realistic, with love, bickering, boredom, and hope all woven together at once. Romantic relationships are very well done; a bit multi-faceted or imperfect (as in real life), and you definitely find yourself rooting for each of the main characters. Depictions of the inner dialogues of introverted characters were spot-on. Even just the fact that this show mostly features introverted characters completely flies in the face of all of American television. From a basic plot standpoint, the show was never boring or predictable. And (spoiler alert) the depictions of the loss of loved ones were also incredibly relatable and realistic... I definitely had some memories come back.

Honestly, Korean television is such a welcome breath of fresh air from 90% of what else is on Netflix or American media. Kind of awesome that a show made on the other side of the world is so incredibly relatable.

I did not want to watch this show in the first place because I hate watching people struggle in life, even if it's fiction. I have my own life to worry about, why would I want to worry about others? My motto in watching TV shows is "I just want to be entertained. Period." Oh boy, how I was by this drama. I loved everything about this show: the script, the cast, the crew and even the slow pace at the beginning. I watched 1-2 eps a night until ep 6. Then I binged eps 7-14, and I "struggled" for about 5 days before ep 15 finally came.

My two "Baeksang Club" buddies nagged me to watch the show for weeks, and I was not disappointed. Thanks to them. May they never catch a cold nor a hangover the morning after.

This show is art itself, every step of the way, every word that comes out, every gesture, every smile, and every look in the eye. The three siblings have their own struggles: searching for love; seeking a better livelihood; and finding a will to live. The old me reading this review would not be anywhere near this show, but Lord bless the writer, director and every actor on the show, I was made whole and felt happier with my life, having watched this.

The male sibling was my favorite, such a caring person. He was unbelievable as a human being though looking so ordinary. I think this world needs more people like him. I thoroughly enjoyed each of his "realizations" because I learned something new too.

The lead couple's relationship is "less is more", and you will see along the road how strong theirs is (ditto the chemistry OMG).

The oldest sister was annoying at the beginning, but that was how she supposed to be. I ended up rooting for her the most at the end.

And I sincerely dedicate my closing paragraph to Sonsukku's hotness. That is the show's bonus.

I very rarely write reviews but this is just so beautifully written and performed i had to comment; the insecurities of each character, the raw emotions portrayed, it leaves me drained after every episode. Each episode I'm left smiling yet tearful. The silence running through this series is so rare nowadays but plays such an important role in the portrayal of the characters; the acting from every actor is superb.

Its not yet finished and i want to watch it again.

Park hae-young is an immensely talented scriptwriter and i cannot wait to see what her next project will be.

My Liberation Notes is writer Park Hae-young's follow-up to her remarkable My Mister (2018). In a way, it's My Mister with almost (not quite) all the dramatic elements of that story stripped out, so that the show can focus on the lives and characters of three highly depressed siblings, two sisters (played by Lee El and Kim Ji-won) bookending their brother (played by Lee Min-ki). All three are stuck working under-appreciated in dead end office jobs in Seoul to which they commute from far out in the countryside where they still live with their parents (as do so many single Korean adults even into their 40s). Despite their jobs, none seems able to escape and start their own lives. Not one of the children or the parents seems to like any of the others and their own manifest inadequacies never stop them from judging each other in ways that are, or at least are intended to be, as hurtful as possible.

Into their lives comes Gu Ja-gyeong, played by Son Seok-joo and known to them only as the somewhat mysterious Mr. Gu, who goes to work at the father's sink factory but who turns out (many episodes into the show) to be a gangster trying to escape his former life and is continuing to drown his sorrows in a sea of soju.

It may seem unlikely that the relentless portrayal of the characters' grinding depression, hopelessness, and sometimes outright misery could make for an engaging show, especially one that lasts for 16 one-hour long episodes. And yet, Park is such a skilled writer that once you are pulled into the world of these damaged people, you want to see it through to the end, to share in their occasional fleeting moments of happiness, to laugh when you are given permission, and to hope for their eventual redemption. You will not be unrequited.

The parents are played, entirely humorlessly, by Chun Ho-jin and Lee Kyung-seong and their characters are a weak spot, adding nothing at all to the story beyond the usual cliched oppression of their children. Indeed, their unremittingly curmudgeonly behavior, with never a hint of affection or parental wisdom, is quite tiresome and in stark contrast to the nuanced portrayal of the three siblings and Mr. Gu. Even when Lee Min-ki begs them to give him a little credit, a tiny hint of praise, they sit stony faced, unable to offer a hint of affection. Unlike the three siblings, who express a whole range of emotions, the parents display none and it strains credulity.

One element of the story in particular could have used some pruning. I have often complained at how Korean shows are bloated with scenes of meals and this one may claim the top spot, against formidable competition. It doesn't help that, to my Western eyes, the food looked so unappealing but even setting that aside My Liberation Notes needed to go on a radical diet. I ended up speeding through every useless moment of people eating and drinking and I lost nothing of the story or the development of the characters by doing so. Nor will you.

On the other hand, Park does use one usually unlovable trope of Korean drama to extraordinary effect - people talking and expecting responses that never come. The non-answers and evasions pile up one on top of the other in all kinds of ways and are alternatively frustrating and appropriate. They force the audience to fill in the blanks and not have the writer and the characters do everything for you.

This story also repeatedly asks an existential question, not for the first time in the history of drama but nevertheless subtly and sometimes not so subtly, about the meaning of life and the point of our own temporary existence on this planet. In olden times and for many people even today, religion so often sought to provide answers or at least comfort but there is little or none of that in My Liberation Notes. All the characters toil away, sometimes resentfully but always diligently and with bursts of self-awareness. In one scene, the older daughter says she wants to be happy in this life. In another particularly pointed scene, a man says of life, when you're finally done with education, job-hunting, having kids, raising them, you move on to their education, job-hunting and raising children all over again. A man and a woman should meet and fall in love and that should be the end. But, he says, that sounds cold, like you're saying, "I don't love you that much.", so they don't say it and they open the door to a lifetime of hardship. If there is a good answer to why we are here or what we should be doing while we are here, the show does not give it but it clearly implies that we should not just passively accept the boredom and discomfort of everyday life. While we are here, let's make what we can of what we have, and be happy, if only, as Kim says, for five minutes a day. If I have misunderstood, at least I was made to think and you will too.

A word about the actors. The cast is uniformly strong and that includes quite a number of lesser characters. The two sisters, in particular Li El, give remarkable layered performances which will evoke sympathy and even admiration; Lee Min-ki on the other hand, good as he is, cannot entirely escape how insufferable his character is, self-righteous to others and self-pitying to himself - Park consistently makes you want to slap him and shut him up, whereas you never feel that way about Li El or Kim Ji-won, a rising star whose reptation can only be enhanced by her work here. Son Seok-koo, as Gu, seems to be reprising his dour persona in the rather wonderful "Be Melodramatic", aka "Melo Is My Nature" (2019), again stripped down, quite effectively, to its essentials.

However, it all comes back to the writing. After My Mister and the earlier Another Ms. Oh!, Park Hae-young has shown us that she is one of the most original and effective writers in the K-Drama world. I for one intend to follow her wherever she takes us next.

You have the golden opportunity to watch a series without cliché expressions, characters, etc. The story, the characters, and the actors who portray them are genius. The relationships and interactions between the characters are genuinely interesting, soul connections, catching, natural.

The director's artistic and dramatic vision of the script is captured, along with the expert guiding of the actors and crew was brilliant. So many beautiful scenes. Great touching script that most people could relate to.

Son Seok-Koo, Lee Min-Ki, Lee El, Lee Ki-Woo, Kim Ji-won were natural, beautiful/handsome, realistic, relatable.