Hard to move on from Red Sleeve—not only because of Junho (2PM)

Credit: Viu Singapore/YouTube

Initially it is the popular idol Junho (2PM), along with the many drama awards it won, that will draw you to The Red Sleeve. You wonder what about this period drama series made it bag some 2021 awards, high ratings (first MBC drama in two years to go beyond 10 percent ratings in Korea), and catapulted Lee Junho to the number 1 slot in the Brand Reputation Rankings (boy group members) for 2022 January conducted by the Korea Business Research Institute, with BTS Jimin and Jin, and Kang Daniel and Astro’s Cha Eun Woo coming after him in the top five.

Then 17 episodes later, you know why. After the finale episode, you realize you can’t move on from the ending—you dwell on how the love story of the emperor and the court lady becomes forever. As someone said in a chat group, “I am stunned.” Another butted in, “You need to be brave to go through episodes 15 up to the finale.”

In truth, this hit romance drama goes beyond romance. It’s about a crown prince whose goal in life is to ascend the throne, as expected of him by his grandfather the king, and about an orphaned girl who grows up in the royal court as a maid and later on as a court lady serving the crown prince. They first encountered each other as children (typical K-drama), not knowing who they really were, and rediscovered each other as young adults, still with hidden identities. So far, stereotypical.

But their characters are not; their character development is what keeps you glued to the series—the prince who would be king turns out to be more independent-minded and obsessed with wearing the crown than an infantile royal should be, and the court maid grows up with a mind of her own, not fit to be a concubine.

Lee Se Young must be the Joseon’s version of a women’s libber

The court maid, acted so well by Lee Se Young, must be the Joseon’s version of a women’s libber. Women’s emancipation comes to the Joseon era, and Se Young balances so beautifully the feisty emancipated woman and the partner who will do everything for the man she loves.

In our chat group, a lady friend defines Lee Se Young’s character Deok Im so well and why she’s taken in by her. She says, “What I find really interesting, if not surprising, about myself as I watch this, is that as much as I am rooting for the Prince, I am rooting more for Deok Im. And for her, happiness equates to freedom and agency, which includes being with her friends. She always loved herself in a healthy way more than she loved YiSan. And that’s very refreshing to me, especially in the context of the times and in the context of a sageuk.”

It is the development of these characters, throbbing with life and secret histories, that gives the drama series the suspense, not the action scenes. There’s no gratuitous violence, no sword-fight overload. Yet you can’t stop watching.

It is the character development that becomes the masterpiece of the director Jung Ji In and the writer Jung Haeri (based on The Red Sleeve Cuff by Kang Mi Kang)—that and the cinematography.

The story begins with the child prince venturing out into the night to view the remains of his grandmother, whom he loved but was never allowed to see. The child prince knows his bloody family history—his demented father has been ordered killed by his own father, the reigning king. On his way to his grandmother’s wake, he strays and runs into the child court maid, who that same night has been sent on an errand to the palace wake by the head of the court ladies. In a darkness broken only by a beautifully lit pathway, the two children reach the chamber where the grandmother lies in state, the two of them alone in macabre silence—until the king arrives unexpectedly. The young court maid helps the prince escape before the king could walk through the door. That’s the first time the court maid saves the prince—a first among many critical moments, the drama’s cliff-hangers.

That night, the king, played by seasoned actor Lee Deokhwa (Suspicious Partner, Welcome to Waikiki; Hyde, Jekyll, Me), overcome with grief, opens up to the child court maid about the dead queen, the concubine who was a servant. This is the first time the child’s mind is opened to the fate that awaits a servant who becomes a royal concubine. That accidental meeting with the grieving king will define many episodes in the life of Se Young. He asks his attentive listener what she wants to be and she says, to write beautifully; during that period, to have a beautiful handwriting, necessary in the transcription of manuscripts, is a valued skill.

Deokhwa turns in an acclaimed portrayal of the imperious yet humane king—he rules as god (“off with his head”) yet becomes a most vulnerable and affectionate grandfather to the crown prince. So touching are the scenes, where he becomes cruel and harsh with the adult crown prince yet, overcome with love, confesses to this only heir, his grandson, how he can’t live without him. In time it is revealed that the king himself was born to a servant. And in time, it will be known to the crown prince the real sacrifice of his wronged father.

Junho and Se Young, now adults, meet accidentally in the library where Se Young continues to transcribe. Se Young, who never has laid eyes on the crown prince, mistakes him for his royal lecturer. The crown prince knows Se Young only as the feisty servant. How the two discover each other’s true identity—literally, in the reflections of their faces—is the “kilig” moment, but this romantic face-off can only lead to danger, intrigue, and conflict. She vows to protect him until he becomes king, and when he does, he weighs his loyalty to the crown and his people against his love for her. She, in turn, is too emancipated to be a concubine. A well-read court maid, she spews wisdom (“The hardest hump to cross is the age of 100”) and this adds dimension to her character—and further conflict to the drama.

The supporting characters prove crucial to the complicated plot. The head of the court ladies, played by another seasoned actress, Park Jiyoung (The Liar and His Lover, Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo, Wok of Love), who has a tragic past with the king, leads a secret coven right in the palace (Joseon has its own #metoo), a cult to protect the court ladies whom she believes have been betrayed by the kings they’ve served. Then there’s the royal lecturer (played by Kang Hoon) whose obsessive loyalty to the crown prince/king becomes his undoing—a bromance gone tragic.

The series is spellbinding because the characters themselves are riveting; there are no cardboard heroes or villains, including the royal family members who live to plot or the court maid ordered to kill, yet who carries over a beautiful memory to prison.

What makes such human conflict almost a pleasure to watch are the beautiful cinematography and production design that bring to the screen the pomp, grandeur, even nobility of the period. This is one drama that focuses on the coming-of-age of court ladies, their training and the rituals they live by. The details are minute, the performance of rituals so nuanced.

‘It’s like I’m watching Downton Abbey’

We’ve never seen so many beautiful hanboks (both for lead and supporting casts) in K-drama—done with sophisticated, albeit contemporary, styling (e.g. combination of pastel pink and yellow for spring). The styling didn’t leave out exquisite details, from the hair clips to the head dresses.

“It’s like I’m watching Downton Abbey,” said a friend who loved the production design.

TheDiarist.ph’s occasional K-drama reviewer Agnes Dominique found it immersive: “I’d like to add how the exquisite musical score—background music and original songs—added yet another layer to the cinematic masterpiece. The music, reminiscent of Downton Abbey score, augmented every scene, intensified every emotion and elevated the production quality. Many times I could just close my eyes, savor the music and imagine Deok Im prancing about the castle gardens or engaging the Crown Prince in a tense starefest.”

This is one K-drama that showcases the elegance and pomp of that period in Korean history, and, accurate or otherwise, why not? It can evoke pride of the past. (Perhaps this is a cue for the Philippine entertainment industry that’s stuck in “poverty porn.”)

It’s visual time travel away from this pandemic.

Junho and Yoona practise for awards show. Credit: Yoona’s So Wonderful Day | 임윤아 오피셜/YouTube