One Spring Night - Part 3

There it is: the crux of the matter. According to One Spring Night, [1] being a single father is one of the worse social crimes there is. Really? Such utter crock! Worse than drinking until you fall down blind drunk and with all the reprehensible behaviours that drunks are capable of? Worse than the verbal and physical abuse that amoral people mete out to their victims? Worse than the cons whose consciences slumber undisturbed despite their crimes? Hells bells!!! Worse than those who abandon their children because the responsibility of parenthood is an inconvenience or social approval is more important? I'm pissed about this whole concept that, I acknowledge, is foreign to me. I'm also baffled by the social ignorance that just becoming a parent qualifies you to claim that you can do a better job than someone that has not given birth. Please!!! Utter nonsense. Such selectively stupid thinking should be squashed by the common sense of mothers around the world. Sadly, it is Ji-ho's until now open-minded fair mother who spells out the impossibility of his having a relationship with someone who has not failed in the eyes of society. That he is, to her, a most precious son, adds to the irony and disappointment of her stand.  A single parent? A divorcee? Carrying both flaws? Why not just give up?  Which is what Ji-ho did until Jeong-in walked into his pharmacy.

To add to Ji-ho’s woes, Gi-seok has turned up at his house and is demanding a showdown.  This will be interesting.  In order not to disturb the neighbours, they drive off in their separate cars to a location unknown.  So considerate.  So polite.  Apparently, that's how it's done when you are both highly educated and cultured. Gi-seok has caught up with the agenda and has called Ji-ho out. For a talk. Sitting in a park. On side-by-side benches. No raised voices, which means no raised fists. It's all very civil. Gi-seok tries intimidation. Threats. Humiliation. Fail! Fail! Fail!  And the winner is Ji-ho. His calm is greater. His confidence is higher. His wrath at being looked down upon by Gi-seok, significant. The lady in question has given him permission to come clean, to lay it all out in the open. Ji-ho is holding the winning card, which is Jeong-in's trust. Ji-ho knows for sure now that she loves him. Those two chips -- permission and trust -- control the game and Gi-seok is having trouble understanding, or is it simply not believing, he's about to lose; has, in fact, already been disqualified?

There is room for empathy for Gi-soek, if one feels he really loves Jeong-in. However, his behaviour towards her just doesn't translate to love. It smacks of ownership, entitlement, and taking for granted. One gets the impression that being with Jeong-in is simply a process towards the expected outcome of marriage. But we can still give him points for loyalty.  When he says he would never cheat on her, it’s believable, albeit not enough to build a lifetime of togetherness on.

In giving Ji-ho permission to disclose their relationship to Gi-seok, Jeong-in's allegiance is confirmed. In saying that Gi-seok is not stupid, it couldn't be envisaged that he would be prepared to trample his own dignity and express a lack of respect for Jeong-in that only insanity could justify. The way to hold on to her, apparently, is to persuade her that she is an idiot who has been duped. She's too gullible to comprehend how bad an error she is about to commit. She's too stupid to know what she is doing. It's pity that she feels for Ji-ho. Naivety. Jeong-in must just do as he says because he's the only one that can save her from herself. Not once does he ask her to stay because he loves her. Instead, more than once, Gi-seok adamantly refuses to end the relationship expressly because the man she is leaving him for is less than him, not as rich as him. And so on. Just as habit had been Gi-seok’s reason for being with Jeong-in, now pride takes over. Not letting her go does not translate to 'I want you to stay.' Insisting you are better than the other man does not equal, 'I need you'. The nightmare Gi-seok finds himself in appears to have just one solution. Jeong-in must go to sleep and wake up back where they were yesterday. Sadly, he fails to see that this nightmare started the moment his unhappy, hung-over girlfriend walked into the world of Ji-ho, the pharmacist, asking for medication. For Gi-seok and Jeong-in, fast train or slow, the station they are approaching is the end of the line.

When you are out of options and her love for you is gone, the thing to do is present her with a diamond ring. An engagement ring used in place of handcuffs to bully, pressure, and guilt her into agreeing to stay with you. It’s marriage talk with no intention of actualisation.  If you can't force her to stay, perhaps you can publicly pull her in line. Share the good news that you are engaged. Say you are about to announce a date for the wedding. Promise to invite them. Fool them all. Except the three central characters. You, her, him. You: the knowledge of your lie shows clearly on your face, in your eyes, in your defeated body language. Her: your absurdity shows clearly in her lack of emotional response to you. She's upset but steadfast in her decision that you are now part of her past. Him: unfazed as long as she is with him. Even in her absence, even if she spends time with you, he is confident that she won’t betray him.

So let’s date, at last.  When Jeong-in and Ji-ho go on their first no secrets date, they are just so right together. Unfortunately, the not big, not really bad wolf is on its way to spoil the fun. Someone tattled and instead of advising the gossiper they had split up, Gi-seok is on his way to... To what? Ji-ho has out manoeuvred him each time before. This time will be no different. Intelligence, then, rather than age or money, will determine the outcome of this battle of hearts.

Having just told Jeong-in about his son's mother, as the only secret he has, really, Ji-ho is strengthened by the disclosure. That same day, Jeong-in and Ji-ho share their first family space together, and it's soft and comfortable to watch. He’s taken her to his parents' workplace, the dry cleaners attached to his family home. It must have special memories; it must be of significant importance to him. When Jeong-in says she likes the vibe of the place, one wonders if she's feeling the energy of Ji-ho's parents. It follows Jeong-in berating Gi-seok for his repeated refusal to accept that their relationship is over and for making a public scene (plus, no doubt, for spoiling her first date with Ji-ho). Ji-ho can now relax. She won't change her mind. As for him, he’s already announced to his work colleague that with Jeong-in, this is his forever relationship; Jeong-in will be the last woman in his life. It's blustering but also an honest reflection of his emotional state. This man loves hard and not easily. It explains the decisions he made regarding his son.

Episodes 11-16

Amid the ensuing chaos being generated by Gi-seok, another tinder pile is about to explode. The subject of domestic abuse is touched upon, or rather glimpsed at. Soe-in, elder sister to Jeong-in, depicts the hidden trauma resulting from spousal abuse. She expresses the pain of betrayal and hurt in every movement she makes on the screen. Her family refuses to investigate. It's not that they don't know something is wrong in her marriage, but to look into it, especially for her father, would risk shattering the acquired success by association that has been built around his ordinary daughter and the golden son-in-law, Nam Shi Hoo. Apparently, she was lucky to have caught him (for the family). The power behind that particular throne, in fact, is his daughter, the popular and highly respected news anchor.  But gender bias means Father is focused on the benefits of the marriage’s social (climbing) status. The son-in-law is, actually, a debt ridden, woman beating, sexually abusing low life.  When that same man confesses to having hit his wife, your daughter, your oldest child, you tell him to forget it.  Let's go and demand that she forgive you. Not how many times has it happened? No enquiry as to whether he physically hurt her.  Not even why, using any kind of justification, could he ever harm his wife.  The solution to this inconvenience?  Scream the demand that she does as you and her husband say because divorce is not an option.

Mother Lee, Shin Hyung-seon, on the other hand, learning about the long-time endured violence perpetrated against her daughter by son-in-law, Nam Shi Hoo, breaks your heart with her deeply felt crying.  The pain and shame felt for her daughter’s suffering, and in response to her own helplessness as a mother in that situation, feels real, is deeply moving.  It’s frightening (for a viewing mother) in its portrayal of having failed to protect your child. A good catch that was not so good, a life of pain and misery that had promised love and devotion.  The wrenching sobs express guilt (for knowing something was wrong but not finding out what), regret (for having encouraged the marriage despite the daughter not being fully invested in it), of shame (for being influenced by an overbearing husband and public opinion). 

Yet, Seo-in’s mother does not expose the SOB to the father.  Why not?  It doesn’t make sense.  Not exposing him means you are leaving your daughter in real and persisting danger.  Perhaps she already knows what the response will be.  After all, we see that when his middle daughter alerts him to the mistreatment she has experienced for four years from her potential parents-in-law, he makes clear that he needs her to continue putting up with it so he can advance his career. Surely there is dereliction in his duty as a father and deficiency in his moral code as a human being towards both girls. This man is a father in a complete family (as in father/mother/ offsprings), but it sounds more dysfunctional than what single father families are accused of. We have heard Ji-ho declare he will defend his son against anyone who hurts or tries to hurt him, which is as it should be.

Feeling it better for a family member, usually an offspring, to tolerate her partner’s abuse than that the family face the social condemnation of the neighbours over divorce is still not such a foreign concept.  One Spring Night exposes the problem of skewed moral codes but does not investigate it too deeply.  Going back to Seo-In's situation, there's too little mention of and too little development of the storyline to say much. The theme is undisguised, distressing, and absolutely needs attention. But it's too big and too important an issue in itself to tackle within this drama, which already has a heavy focal point. The script writing draws our attention to the matter, but it does not make the mistake of trying to fit everything into the drama. In this case, the call is a good one, as the matter is not frivolous nor one for entertainment.  It must be given a stage of its own, given the attention it deserves, even if that is through a mass media platform.

A different type of abuse, one could consider, is Father Lee’s attitude to his children’s lives.   His selfishness is on a scale of its own.

Examples (in no particular order):

Learning that Jeong-in is splitting up with Gi-seok, he begs her to not to: “Is there no way you can stay with Gi-seok?” and “Can’t you do it for me… He [G-seok’s father] is going to offer me a place on the board of trustees.”

This selfishness can filter into the dishonourable when to serve your ambition or social climbing status you ignore the danger, misery, or other form of harm a family member may be in.

In response to his son-in-law admitting to domestic violence: “He hit you, but he still loves you, so forgive him”. 

When his daughter confides how unhappy she is: “You will learn to live with the disappointment [unhappiness]”. 

Talking about hurt, when Jeong-in attends Gi-seok’s family home for the first time, it's a poignant moment. Her reaction to the exclusion she has experienced over the past four years is in every glance around the space that the actress, Han Ji-min, makes. It is unfamiliar territory instead of feeling like visiting home. She's curious, hesitant, but not intimidated. Jeong-in understands that had she not made the request for a second meeting with Gi-seok's father, despite the long relationship she’s had with his son, this is the threshold to a sanctuary she could not expect to have ever been invited to cross. Fleetingly painful, it must be confirmation that disassociating from the family is the right thing to do.

Oh, oh! Put a loaded gun into the hands of an idiot and he's bound to shoot himself in the foot, chest or head. Gi-seok's father should have known better than to hand him illegally obtained photographs documenting his humiliation: His estranged girlfriend; the lowly man she left him for; the social flaw that he could not countenance being abandoned for. A man less vain, less desperate, and with less false pride would have binned those photos. Accepting them turned the package into a smoking gun -- because Gi-seok is not smart enough to play the assassination game. He sends the photos to Jeong-in's father, who beats his ignorant social climbing chest and attempts to subdue, by sheer willpower, the single most stubborn member of the family. One that went on hunger strike in elementary school until she got what she wanted: to not attend the school at which that same father was a teacher.

As much as I wanted to skip straight past the bit where old man Lee receives photo evidence of his daughter with Ji-ho (and his son). One needs to in order to witness the true definition of shamelessness.  Father’s idea of compromise on something that's not his decision to make is to suggest to Jeong-in that if she stops seeing Ji-ho, he will give up his dream post-retirement job with Gi-seok's father. A job he hasn't been offered yet.  Enough of that.  Just can't cope with the braying and table slapping.  It was almost a waste of the viewer's time to watch the scene and be deafened by the pointless squalling of head of household, Lee Tae-hak. Except that, watching Jeong-in take possession of the photos and turn the blackmail against those who had set out to trap her was hugely satisfying.

What should one think when a man dumps a ring box in your hand with the explanation that it is what you think it is.  Followed by casually stating you should just marry him.  Then even utters the words that he does not care what you think.  He's become dangerous. He, clearly, does not feel a need to pretend he loves you. This is the same man who advised his unattached friend that romance only lasts a month from the start of dating, after which a relationship goes into autopilot and habit.  He was already dangerous to your emotional health when you first met.

Using guerilla tactics, Gi-seok’s disinformation strategy has friends and colleagues spreading the news that Jeong-in has accepted his marriage proposal. It wasn't a marriage proposal, so she can’t have accepted it, if her silence is ignored. What is surprising is Ji-ho's reaction. Dramatic misdirection here makes viewers think Ji-ho is distraught and feeling dejected. Instead, we see him calling out Gi-seok on his nonsense tactics and making it understood that he, Ji-ho, has run out of patience.  More importantly, that he, Gi-seok, has run out of rope. Intimidation was never so evenly pronounced, and calmly, threateningly delivered. It's easy to imagine that Gi-seok's heartbeat accelerates whilst Ji-ho's pulse slows down. Result!

Leonora

asiandramaobserver@gmail.com

[1] One Spring Night. Screenplay by Kim Eunsang; Director, Ahn Pan-seok; Netflix.com/watch/81100182