Frequently Asked Questions: A Partial Guide to "Love In The Big City"

Content Warning: Mild sardonic humour.

I. THE BASICS.

Should I watch this show?

Absolutely.

Why?

Because it is perhaps the best Korean series I have seen under the BL/LGBT rubric. 



Really? But you hate everything!
I know!

What’s so good about the show?
The cast and the acting are both superb, the cinematography is very good, and the production commendable. The directors (especially of the later episodes) did a great job creating and sustaining specific moods within which the drama plays out. But, above all, I just fell in love with the story, and all the people, flawed as they are, in it. I felt as if I had entered a whole, new, fully realised world, which I was loth to leave. It was funny, messy, enjoyable, beautiful, quietly moving, and at times, devastating.

What’s middling about it?

The script. When it’s good, it’s very good. When it’s bad, you'll roll your eyes or cringe. Sometimes, you're left with more questions than answers.

And what’s bad?
That depends on what you want out of the show. If you’re expecting a traditional BL, you’ll be disappointed. If you're looking for social commentary on homophobia in Korea, you'll be disappointed. If you’re looking for likeable characters, a protagonist you can root for, or for the evolving presence of another character besides the protagonist, you’ll also be disappointed.

How would you characterise this show then?
Think of "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man", but make it gay and less obnoxious. The story is about Ko Yeong, and Ko Yeong alone. It is to his life that the series is devoted. Other people will merely come and go. As they do in the solipsistic theatre in each of our lives.

Does it have a happy ending?
I will not dignify that with a response.*


II. PLOT & CHARACTERS.

What is the plot of the show?
It really doesn't have one. You just follow the life of Ko, and see the world through his perspective, which, admittedly, is limited, self-serving and sometimes suffocating. However, the overarching theme is love, and how, in contrast to what Pope Ru Paul II says, you can't really love yourself until you have dared to love someone else.

Can you say more?
Well, without spoiling too much, I think the show is about how we don't always recognise love when we have it, nor understand it when we profess it, nor, worst of all, know how to treasure it until we lose it.

Sounds painful.
It's love!

Who is Ko Yeong, then?
He's a writer, and is obviously modelled on Sang Young Park, the person who wrote the novel on which this is based. I won't say anything more than that. You should discover his character on your own.

Oh no, he's unlikeable, isn't he?
Since when did people start insisting that all fictional characters must be admirable or paragons of moral purity? He's human, and yes, humans are often insufferable.

Alright, alright. What about the other characters?
Yeong has a good group of friends, a girl friend from college with whom he lives for a while, lovers who come and go, and then there is... no, I don't want to spoil it. There's also his mum and dad, though the latter has only a marginal presence, and is very thinly sketched.

How well-drawn are the other characters?
Well, you will have to first accept that most characters aren't present throughout the show. They do drop off. If you accept that -- and I'm not saying you should -- I think they are very well-drawn. The girl friend and Yeong's mother are my favourites. The Japanese character at the end is the worst-written. But the actors are, with one or two exceptions, brilliant, and bring their subjects vividly to life.


III. THE SCRIPT & ACTING.

Is the writing any good?
Yes, and no. There is a lot to like about it. It is suffused with humour and charm -- a rare virtue in this world -- and pregnant with pathos. But it is uneven. Some episodes are clearly better than others.

Such as?
Again, I don't want to spoil too much. But there is an episode involving a break-up scene in a pasta restaurant. Let's just say, it was perfect. The note on which the episode ends might seem irredeemably cheesy, and might have been better written, but I thought it was the right note on which to end it. Not least because, otherwise, homophobia would have won the day. I will also say that the writing in Ep. 6 was perhaps the best in the series, and the best in any Korean TV show I have seen -- which, outside the BL world, is admittedly not a lot. Obviously, Park loves Madame Bovary, the references and parallel to which, for those who have read it, will be obvious.

When is the writing bad?
It mainly comes down to two things: pacing, and on-the-nose sentimentality. Evidently, squeezing a 200-page novel into an 8-part series is hard, but the script could have nevertheless been sharper, and the timing better spent. There are omissions that make little sense, and inclusions that are baffling. The other problem is its propensity to lapse into sentimentality when it is not sure that the audience will feel the way it wants them to feel. This leads to narrative overcompensation, and therefore to some of the sappiest moments in the show. Having said that, there is another plausible explanation for this sappiness and for some of the more overt fairy tale moments. (Emphasis on the ‘fairy’.)

What is it?
This is a bit of a spoiler. But Yeong, in the end, strongly implies that the story we have seen is not real, but a fictionalised version of his life that he has written for himself. He is attempting to write and rewrite story of his past loves — which is symbolised in the lantern scene — and yet (or therefore) fails to understand it. The fairy tale moments are a symbol of that want. This is, of course, a generous interpretation on my part. But I think it is justified.

I have to ask, this being a Korean production, do the men in the show at least kiss?
Oh, they do so much more than that!

Glory Hallelujah! So the actors don't hold back?
No! The cast is quite amazing. (Well, except the Japanese cast member. He should have been fired.) And the lead is a tremendous actor, and, from what I gather, a very good person.

Is this what happens when straight people are not put in charge of a show?
I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it may incriminate me.*


IV. THE ISSUES.

I presume the show has something to say about what it's like to be gay in Korea and all that?
It sure does.

And?
Well, it is not a PSA about homophobia in Korea, and thank heavens for that. The story does touch upon all the issues, but by allusion and ellipsis, and not, as lesser shows do, in the service of edification or worse, as a plot device.

So, what does come up?
Christianity, of course, and the homophobia it sows. (Somebody should put up a poster somewhere: CHRISTIANITY. RUINING YOUR SEX LIFE FOR 2000 YEARS!) Conversion therapy. Internalised homophobia. HIV. PrEP.

Does it deal with these issues well?
Urgh.* Why should the onus of that be on the show? Or on any work of art? But, to answer your question, for the most part, yes. Yeong has never had trouble accepting himself, and wants to be only himself. (Though in the first episode or two, that does not always appear to be the case.) And HIV is not a death sentence in the show, and it is clear that, when it was filmed/written, Thailand was farther ahead on PEP/PrEP than Korea. (Japan doesn't offer PrEP to this day!) These are all a normal part of what it means to be a sexually active gay person today, and it is to the show's credit that it portrays it as such, and not as an onerous check-list to tick off. Such things come up organically, and don't feel forced. There is one issue, however, that I should perhaps warn you about, which is my one area of moral uncertainty about the show.

Which is?
The question of when and how to tell a potential sexual partner you have HIV. It was once unquestionable that you had to tell all potential partners. But with PrEP and PEP, as well as the medical certainty that Undetectable=Untransmittable, these things are no longer quite so clear cut, not least when the stigma of disclosing your HIV status remains as strong as ever. Yeong says in the show that he has only told one partner (which, on its face, is quite unbelievable). But that makes his behaviour with other partners morally dubious, unless we know that he's undetectable, which he does seem to be. (Korea's public health system does pay for HIV medication.) Then why not say so, especially when it could have been done in two lines of dialogue or less? It would have also added to the depth of Yeong's character, by adding more substance to his limitations as a human being. This, I think, *is* an instance of bad writing.


V. LIFE LESSONS

Does the show offer any pearls of wisdom for young gay (or bi) men?
Yes, plenty!

Such as?
1. Don't go out with a philosopher. Ever.
2. Don't date Christians. Or rather, practising Christians of the born-again, evangelical sort.
3. If you're going to go to bed with a guy on the DL, don't fall in love with him. To quote a wise woman: Use him, abuse him, lose him.
4. If a guy asks you to hide who you are in public, or in front of other people, run.
5. If it seems like you're dating one prick after another, or one closet-case after another, take a good look at yourself in the mirror. Maybe it's you, Linda!
6. Keep a good group of friends around you who understand you.
7. Learn about PEP, PrEP, U=U, STDs, and when in doubt, always use a condom.
8. If you are lucky enough to find a man with whom you can be yourself, don't ever let him go.
9. Loving another person is perhaps the hardest thing in the world to do. And for all its highs, rushes, longings, and satisfactions, it also has its long periods of languor, stupor, pain, and disappointment. Don't confuse these for signs of failure and give up.
10. There is a reason we have appropriated the word 'gay' for ourselves. We are lovely, funny, messy, sexy, gorgeous, insane creatures. Embrace it!


VI. LAST WORDS

It sounds as if, even though you like the show a great deal, you do have a few reservations about it. Why do you then praise it so, and why the high rating?
I don't usually go into shows with any set expectations. I go in with a spirit of receptiveness, to see what the work has to offer. In most BLs I come across here, what I see is a straight woman's fantasy of two men being in love, where, if you replace the submissive person with a woman, you'd barely notice the difference from a run-of-the Mills & Boons romance.

I see what you did there.
Haha, yes. Nothing wrong with that, of course. Pleasure is pleasure. But it does not resonate with me. (I also find it deeply troubling when shows go out of their way to avoid the word 'gay', or avoid depictions of gay intimacy -- which decision, alas, wins much plaudits among the viewership here.) On the other hand, films that are tagged with the LGBT label are expected to focus too heavily on the pain of coming out, societal homophobia, bullying, suicides, and persecution, which, of course, is vital and important. But something gets lost in the middle between these two extremes of straight-washed fantasy and hideous reality. This show exists in that in-between space, and that's what appealed to me the most. Love mixed with hatred, levity with weight, humour with sorrow, fantasy with reality, charm with severity, isolation within crowds, and pockets of tolerance within a hostile city. The show is not quite realistic, but it is *real*. It is a world I can recognise as being true, as being faithful to life. And it is not often I can say that.

*The asterisk indicates an ironic or sardonic comment, not to be taken literally. I wish I didn't have to point this out. But given that some people are constitutionally devoid of a sense of humour (see below, and on the comments section of the show), I thought it better to be safe. Sigh.

Reader's Digest:
DO SAY: Monsieur Yeong, c'est moi!
DON'T SAY: Let us be Seoul Mates

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