[FIRST LOOK] Possessed

혼 (Possessed)

Produced by MBC, Airs on Wed/Thu
PD: 강대선 (Kang Dae-Seon), 김상호 (Kim Sang-Ho)
WRITER: 고은님 (Go Eun-Nim), 인은아 (In Eun-Ah), 박영숙 (Park Young-Sook)
CAST: 임주은 (Im Ju-Eun), 이서진 (Lee Seo-Jin), 건일 (Geon Il), 지연 (Ji Yeon), 김갑수 (Kim Gab-Soo), 김성령 (Kim Seong-Ryeong), 이진 (Lee Jin), 김광규 (Kim Gwang-Gyu), 이규한 (Lee Gyu-Han)

Now, imagine for a moment if Kafka was right. You know, about the abyss thing.

Does staring into the dark really bring darkness upon you? And, more importantly, is all mythology and folklore dealing with nefarious creatures (ghosts, goblins, vampires, rats surrounded by blue walls) just a physical representation of our own inner demons, just like religion can often be a spiritual projection of our fears and insecurities about what exists far beyond that ozone layer, a sort of ad-hoc explanation for our curious existence? Call me insensitive, but the idea that a teenager dressed in all white prancing around with her chronic back spasms would scare me is a tad peculiar. I don't know, last time I was scared by anything inside a box or a big screen, it was probably David Lynch's twisted little idea of letting mullet-enhanced vengeful spirits pop out of people's bedrooms in Twin Peaks, but that's like a gazillion years ago, and I would likely be more amused by the mullet if I witnessed it again. It's not really about growing out of that phase, or even becoming desensitized thanks to all the horror films they've subjected you to. It's rather a sort of philosophical realization you get at a certain moment in your life, which automatically turns the visceral thrills of most horror films into the equivalent of shallow pornography without sweaty soccer moms faking orgasms. The realization that, well, people are often quite scarier than ghosts.

Spirits maundering the nightly haze, bemoaning their untimely demise; vampires gorging upon the unsullied blood of their innocent victims; werewolves parading the streets kindled by a full moon, and goblins terrifying the populace with their ominous vocal contortions. All those elements certainly have a rich, fascinating history of their own, which is why horror and folktales have always been a match made in heaven, from Bram Stoker to the various anecdotes which populated Joseon ghost legends. The spirit of the 납량 genre, literally meaning "enjoying the chills of the summer breeze," started from there. It used familiar folklore from yesteryear, mixing the appeal of traditional social mores with more modern horror elements, to offer chills in the hot summer nights of Yeouido. Mostly taking inspiration from domestic horror films of the 60s and many of their familiar narrative tropes, the "summer horror special" craze began around the late 1970's with KBS' 전설의 고향 (Hometown of Legends). The series certainly wasn't the very first instance of horror broadcast on TV, but it came on right around the time when TV sets were selling like hot cakes, and Chungmuro was still enduring a protracted and painful crisis because of various reasons, including government censorship. That "breeze" couldn't come at a better time.

Even viewers familiar with the second generation of "Hometown" shows broadcast during the mid-to-late 1990s would be surprised by the original series, which featured huge stars and was always written by top of the line sageuk veterans like Jung Ha-Yeon and Lee Hwan-Kyung. It was from there that, amongst many others, the 구미호 (Fox with Nine Tails) phenomenon started, played for the first time by Han Hye-Sook. But we were also dealing with stories which were extremely solid both in terms of narrative structure and sometimes even historical consciousness. What is even more important, it was with this landmark series that the seeds of Korean cinema's infatuation with the summer horror were first planted. Some western critics often argue that the post-여고괴담 (Whispering Corridors) rush of Korean horror films served in the summer is just a reaction to the virgin ghost phenomenon brought forth by Japanese hits like リング(Ring), but there couldn't be a more misguided assumption: the 처녀귀신 (virgin ghost, just like Sadako) was a major staple of the Hometown of Legends canon already by the 70s, not to mention Korean films of the 60s.

KBS' series became synonymous with horror on TV, so much that even rivals TBC and MBC never really tried to contend its domination. It was certainly positive from a cultural standpoint, as it helped establish the genre, but there was a catch: horror, at least on TV, became nothing more than a collection of stereotypes, bastardizing its legacy into something as basic as mere visceral thrills. This is why most Koreans think a horror film must be "scary" first and foremost, not so much in a psychological sense -- it's like a thinly veiled demand for cheap thrills to soothe you during the hot summer, a clear reflection of the "summer special's" influence. Sure enough, even film directors who grew up on a diet of Hometown of Legends tend to stick to the formula to a T, which is why only those attempting to deviate from the norm manage to produce good horror films, such as Kim Ji-Woon's 장화, 홍련 (A Tale of Two Sisters) and Gong Su-Chan's 알포인트 (R-Point).

Inevitably, the prevalent mentality about horror diluted the impact of the genre on TV. MBC tried to reverse the formula in 1994 with the psychological thriller M, but it was more a combination of Shim Eun-Ha, trendy drama tropes inundating the show with unintended hilarity, and the momentum MBC had mustered between 1993 and 1994. In many ways, the fate of the summer special in the 90s somewhat mirrored that of sports dramas: the first serious tentative of the 90s, MBC's 마지막 승부 (The Final Jump), mixed sports drama fundamentals with trendy drama canons, filled the cast with young and popular stars and hit the jackpot. All the subsequent attempts to repeat its success failed, simply because they tried to replicate the same formula. Just like all the various football, swimming and ice hockey dramas failed, the big 3's attempt to change the course of TV horror flopped miserably, perhaps because all that viewers wanted was a healthy dose of cheap thrills. Others summer specials like 1995's 별 (Star) with Go So-Young, 1996's 거미 (Spider) with Lee Seung-Yeon and 1997's 불꽃놀이 (Fireworks) with Choi Su-Jong never really made a mark, and with the genre's flag bearer ending its run in 1999 marked by decline, horror on Korean TV was pretty much dead by the turn of the century, when SBS' 고스트 (Ghost) put the final nail on the coffin. It is inevitably peculiar, then, to find it resurrected on MBC, many years after its last summer horror special, particularly in a period when diversity is rather mercilessly frowned upon.

Not that 혼 (Possessed) is anywhere near your average miniseries, let alone those infamous summer horror specials. What we're dealing with is a 10 episode series completely produced in-house by MBC, which "betrays" industry trends of the post Korean Wave-boom, considering SBS leaves nearly 100% of their dramas (save the occasional special during festivities) to independent producers. The reason why so much of the drama production pie is controlled by the indies is simple: they're the only ones capable of investing figures like 250-300 million won per episode on a drama, and hence can attract bigger stars and better prospects in terms of overseas sales. But, mostly because of the economic crisis but also because of mounting conflicts between broadcasters and independent producers over profit sharing and copyright, the trend is thankfully starting to reverse back to old habits. Other than their annual big sageuk project with 천추태후 (Empress Cheonchu) -- which will be their last daeha for a while, but the format will certainly return, and frankly taking a break was a great move -- KBS also produced 파트너 (Partner), this year's serving of Hometown of Legends, and what is very likely to end up as drama of the year, the four episode gem 경숙이 경숙아버지 (My Dad Loves Trouble). It's a joy to see MBC join the fray, for more than one reason.

Let's just consider the bottom line, for starters. Choi Wan-Gyu's latest abomination 태양을 삼켜라 (Swallow the Sun) cost 12 billion, and although prime time advertising brings more bacon and it's still winning the Wednesday/Thursday battle, that 17/18% will only get you about 200 to 250 million won of ad revenue per episode, assuming you get a full ad plate and assorted rerun packages. Unless they extend its run, the drama is set for 24 episodes, and at 500 million won a pop in production costs, it is losing 250 to 300 million won per episode. Think Japan will do something about it, what with "Hallyu stars" like Sung Yoo-Ri and Ji Sung adorning the cast? If they're really, really lucky, they'll get 100,000 dollars per episode (that's VERY generous), which would mean about 2.4 million, or 2.9 billion won for the whole package. Add ancillary markets and peanuts from online sales, and you'll probably get to a total of 3.5-4 billion won. What is the bottom line, then? This big blockbuster, an empty vessel employing trite 1980's-like storytelling techniques and Choi Wan-Gyu's usual shenanigans, will lose at least a couple of billions unless it moves to the mid to high 20%s soon. And for what? Glitzy, shallow and insipid crap that only wastes talented actors like Jeon Gwang-Ryeol and Yoo Oh-Sung? But hey, we're starting again with 아이리스 (Iris) pretty soon, and that will need 선덕여왕 (Queen Seondeok)-like ratings to escape from serious trouble - breaking even is just a dream, as even with Japan's crazy 5 million buying price, it's still 1 billion won per episode, if not more. Really, why does Choi Wan-Gyu still have a job?!

Now let's do the math for Possessed. The show hovers in and out of the 10% mark, depending on which rating survey you look at. They've got a decent advertising plate, with usually at least a dozen-fifteen ads per episode, but this show only cost something like 100 million per episode. And that's not even the key: they spent most of it on production. The protagonist, relative newcomer Im Ju-Eun, was chosen via audition, beating out over a thousand contenders to get the role. Co-stars Lee Seo-Jin and Lee Jin, who would have an otherwise burdensome cachet, cut their guarantee by quite a big portion, and even name veterans like Kim Gab-Soo and Kim Seong-Ryeong are acting for literally peanuts. This means that Possessed only spends about 30 million won per episode on its casting, and the rest (including 30 million won per episode on art direction alone) is all devoted to production costs. This equals better production all over the board, from tighter editing to more satisfying CG, from better music to more leeway to experiment with visuals and whatnot. Sure enough, Possessed is one of the most accomplished productions of the year, giving every minute detail the same importance. And it shows. Damn, it shows...

What this all means for MBC is that even 10% with a half decent response from the ad industry will allow the show to break even, and maybe even make a few pennies over the board. Translated into simpler terms, that is the future, folks. The same, exact thing happened for 한성별곡-正 (Conspiracy in the Court): the impossibility of casting big stars led the producers to focus on good actors who would fit their characters, and doing things in-house meant taking advantage of the experienced crew the broadcasters can muster, without all the expensive and time consuming trials and errors you see with independent productions, which only get a few key crew members from the broadcasters, and compensate with their own personnel, with inevitably much different results. Possessed just oozes that air of professionalism, that idea that talented pros went at it not just for the sake of closing a quarter in the black, like most independent producers must do to stay afloat. Even considering the tight shooting schedule and the script (which is written on the fly, sure enough, but that hasn't influenced the drama yet), you still feel like you're watching competent artists trying to make the best possible drama with the money they're given, not sharks in tuxedo throwing everything at the wall hoping the masses will catch on, and reward them with ratings. Set aside its inherent quality, it just puts a smile on your face to see that there's still people in the industry willing to make real dramas. This is one of them.

But the most pleasant aspect of this all is that Possessed is not just the cheap, viscerally entertaining but thematically empty summer horror special that previews and suspicions would make you expect. On the contrary, once you look past all the thrills (which might be there or not, your mileage will vary) and the conventions of the genre, you'll see there's a story pulsating inside, something with rock solid thematic consciousness, in some ways reminding of Partner. Just like KBS' extremely watchable court drama played around with the concept of law vs justice and the way you can use the code to dramatically change people's lives, Possessed delves into our concept of justice vis-a-vis the law's influence on society, more than wasting time on grumpy teenagers in white night gowns prancing around with their cranky backs. The entire story, if seen through Shin Ryu's (quite likely to become the most interesting character of Lee Seo-Jin's career) eyes, is like the projection of his inner demons, climbing the path to damnation one step at a time. Ryu's indirect form of "divine punishment" represents the extra mile which a code of law too concerned with its own formalities and loopholes can never reach, making him a sort of psychological lone ranger using hypnosis and his suggestive presence as the weapons to convince his "vector" Ha-Na into murdering on his behalf. It's a fascinating concept, particularly when you think about how multi-faceted the drama's stance on the whole issue is.

Before you can even entertain the thought of labeling what Ryu does as a simple retaliation for what he experienced during his youth, you're served with his rather ambiguous relationship with Hye-Won, which turns into a diatribe on the nature of evil. The different views they show generally mirror David T. Lykken's thoughts on the difference between psychopathy and sociopathy, the first being an innate, hereditary disorder (Ryu's "psychopaths can't be cured"), the second something acquired through a certain environment (hence Hye-Won being more open to a rehabilitation for them). It's not really high philosophy or anything, but it beats having to endure visceral thrills thrown out there for the sake of it, and the rather socio-political slant with which these arguments are presented makes this drama all the more topical and relevant.

And the praise is not over yet. I've been rather critical of Lee Seo-Jin over the years, but he gives a very satisfactory performance here, balancing the maniacally detailed aspects of his profession with the anger raging inside him, punctuated every now and then by perfectly timed smirks or similar gestures. Also, in an atmosphere where former starlets from the music world are given leading roles just because of their name, and manage to even lack the basic fundamentals of acting (how can a freaking SINGER not be able to spell three consecutive words without sounding like a foreigner? Then again, that wasn't music, was it?), seeing people like Lee Jin take one step at a time and slowly improve before our eyes is certainly pleasant. She was quite decent in 왕과 나 (The King & I), and although she is by no means blessed with innate talent, she does her job just fine. At this point, experience and gradual progression are much more important to her acting career than prancing around in headline-grabbing garbage of the 욕하면서 보는 드라마 (the dramas you love to hate) kind ever would. And how about young little Im Ju-Eun? She's fabulous, a true revelation.

I had seen her before on a TV movie on cable and another few drama roles on TV, and she never really captured my attention, but this surely will change things. She has that mysterious mix of bubbling charm and a slightly decadent streak (so not the ostentatious and fabricated sexiness of a Kim Hye-Soo, but something a little more elegant and subtle, closer to Kim Hye-Ri?) which fit this role to a T. So you get moments of maturity, and then it all goes back to the high school kid next door. It's not just acting which suits the role, she already is showing fundamentals which might do her a world of good in the future, just like Kim So-Eun showed in 천추태후 (Empress Cheonchu) and 결혼못하는 남자 (He Who Can't Marry). As for Kim Gab-Soo, praising him would be like telling Lebron James that he can play hoops pretty well. Give Kim some leeway to go crazy and bask in decadence, and there will be no better veteran actor in Korea. If you've seen him go into tyrannical despot mode as Emperor Sui Yangdi in 연개소문 (Yeon Gaesomun), you know what to expect here. Just genius. Mad, delirious genius.

There's only a few episodes left of Possessed, and although something along the way could certainly complicate things a little (sometimes the wonderful production values get a bit stilted by the live shooting curse, but it never really bothers you in the long run), it's pretty much a given than this show will end up as one of the very best of the year. And that's a lesson to learn for the entire industry, because making quality dramas like this leaves the kind of aftertaste that money-making machines like Queen Seondeok will never make you experience. Because, unlike just about everything else that is airing at the moment, this little gem possesses something, the most important thing for a drama. And you know what? Look at the Korean title, and you'll understand what it is.

A soul....

Note:
Dramas awarded with GOLDEN PAW average four stars out of five
Dramas awarded with TEMUJIN'S CHOICE average four and a half stars
Dramas awarded with GENGHIS F*CKING KHAN average five stars