reblog

At this point, there is a reality dating show for everything, especially on Netflix. But while many focus on shock and awe and stirring whatever pot someone is holding at any given moment, Love Like A KDrama offers something more endearing and endlessly so. In the latest Korean reality series from Netflix, a group of four male Korean actors and female Japaneses actresses live together, pair up, and try to land leading roles in six mini romantic K-drama episodes. But we’re really here to see if they’ll fall in love. If the premise feels familiar, it’s because this reality show is a Korean production based on a Japanese series of the same name.

In addition to the eight contestants, Yuko Fueki, aka Yumin, steps in as the host, with studio members Haruna Kondo, Aa-Chan, Shusuke Fukutoku, Hayato Komori (GENERATIONS), and Maria Tani offering live commentary. The series’ premise is fairly simple: Can people really fall in love if they act in a romantic Kdrama with kissing scenes? Like any on-screen romance, real-life romances do happen, but getting there is a journey that centers their talent and all areas of connections over time.

But how much does that work in day-to-day life? As emotions grow, the actors have to win an audition, but their emotions begin to get in the way. If things work out for them, they get to be with the person that they’re falling in love with, and if they don’t, they’ll have to watch someone they have feelings for be in a romance scene with someone else. Attempting to balance acting dreams, romance, and friendship, the series is edited with the emotions of the contestants first.In the series, each of the eight men and women pair up and begin to audition for roles in each episode. But kiss scenes aren’t the only elements in the series that they’re shooting. Embracing the melodrama of dramas, the storylines include love triangles, heated romances, and, of course, skinship and romantic kiss scenes too. Having to move in and out of character has a very real effect on the actors, and the emotions get high extremely quickly. Very specifically, there is something extremely intimate about choosing a partner when you know that you will be getting romantic right off the bat.

Almost immediately, Love Like A KDrama leans into shaking up couples, pushing the couples to change based on what the male actors want. Starting with Kim Won-Shik and Honoka Kitahara, Song Ji-hyuk and Rio Yamashita, Ayano Kudo and Tae-gyun, and Nozomi Bando and Kim Dong-kyu, the couples shift quickly as the men begin to like the same women. Thankfully, the series is able to also put the agency in the women’s hands by letting them choose next. That is what keeps the series engaging, espeically when it comes to the real-life dating emotions of the series. Shifting the power dynamics consistently through the series allows for drama and helps even the playing field for both genders.

Star-crossed romance has long been a staple in Japanese cinema, though medical catastrophe, more than a disapproving society or opposing parents, has become a common force tearing lovers apart in contemporary films. This does not always mean a tragic finale: In Takahisa Zeze’s 2017 hit “The 8-Year Engagement,” the heroine recovers from a long coma to wed her devoted fiancee.

Eiji Uchida’s “Silent Love” adds a twist to this staple trope — both principals are afflicted with disabling conditions: Mika (Minami Hamabe) is an aspiring pianist who was blinded in a traffic accident, and Aoi (Ryosuke Yamada), a custodian at Mika’s music college, is mute from a wound incurred in a street brawl.

Based on Uchida’s original script, the film is a full-throated melodrama like his 2020 “Midnight Swan,” a box-office smash that won a pile of awards in Japan. But while the earlier film said something true about the marginalization of LGBTQ+ people in Japanese society, the new one feels antiquated and artificial, devolving into cliched action that seems to belong in another movie.

Also, Uchida’s two leads — unknowns compared to “Midnight Swan” star Tsuyoshi Kusanagi, a former member of the J-pop mega-group SMAP — don’t add much depth or nuance to their stereotypical characters. Not that actors even better than Kusanagi, who won prizes for his hammy turn as a transgender entertainer, could have transcended the formulaic script.

The story begins with Aoi stopping Mika from flinging herself off a rooftop in despair. Distraught, she doesn’t thank him for saving her life, and, unable to speak, he can’t greet her when he sees her later on campus. Instead, he becomes her silent protector, helper and, if you view his infatuation negatively, stalker.

Soon enough, they establish a fragile channel of communication with the aid of a small bell Mika dropped on the rooftop and later recognizes when Aoi rings it. Noticing that she wants to practice on a piano in a room off-limits to students, Aoi finds the key, opens the door and escorts Mika in. Although he delights in her performance, she is dissatisfied since her hand was injured in the accident.

Then, she asks him to play for her, mistaking him for another piano student. Eager to please, he comes up with a subterfuge: Ask a handsome and arrogant piano virtuoso, Kitamura (Shuhei Nomura), to be his stand-in. Kitamura agrees to play for pay as he is dangerously indebted to an underworld casino, but his fee forces the already cash-strapped Aoi deeper into poverty.

At this point, I was expecting an ironic O.-Henry-like twist — think “The Gift of the Magi” transposed to modern-day Japan — but the plot instead drags in gangsters, metal objects wielded as deadly weapons and other elements that take “Silent Love” into a noisy, violent manga-esque place indeed.

This turn of events is not unexpected — we see early on that the hot-tempered, working-class Aoi can hold his own in a fight — but it leads to developments that strain credulity. And the privileged Mika fails to make an obvious moral choice I won’t detail.

O. Henry, who honed his storytelling technique while serving time for embezzlement in the Ohio State Penitentiary, would have created a more self-sacrificing and sympathetic heroine. In “Gift of the Magi,” Della cuts her magnificent hair to buy a present for her beloved; Mika would have sent him a ¥500 Amazon gift certificate.

Starring Masaki Suda as Mugi and Kasumi Arimura as Kinu, We Made A Beautiful Bouquet is a bittersweet love story between the two. As if by destiny, a chance encounter leads to the discovery that they both share a lot in common, be it music, movies or books. But as they progress through different stages of life, their four-year relationship meets many challenges and eventually turns sour.

We Made A Beautiful Bouquet was directed by Nobuhiro Doi and written by Yuji Sakamoto, a screenwriter known for his cracking dialogue and complex characters. Both previously worked together on Japanese TV series Quartet, which snagged a number of awards including Best Director and Best Screenwriter in Japan's Television Drama Academy Awards. We Made A Beautiful Bouquet does not pale in comparison either, for the plot is weaved with minute details that make the love story so brutally honest.

In the beginning, you can feel with the characters as they go through a period of bliss and uncertainty regarding their budding relationship. The feeling that this may be “the one” is described through the way the two characters interact and seem to click right from the start. It also helps that Suda and Arimura look compatible and not awkward.

Furthermore, it is very interesting to spot little hints in the film that indicate the status of their relationship. One particularly subtle hint is their shoes. When they first meet, apart from shared interests, their tastes are so similar that they even have the same pair of shoes. But you will soon notice the cracks in their relationship when one scene shows Kinu still has the same sneakers, but Mugi has a pair of loafers.

As their relationship comes to an inevitable end, instead of a straightforward break-up like you would expect in romance films, the realism of the end of a relationship is brought out. The couple struggles to come to terms with what is happening, and makes futile attempts to save the relationship, such as wilfully suggesting marriage will make things better. It is refreshing to see how these conflicting emotions are depicted, which adds depth not only to the characters, but also to the love story itself.

However, this is not to say that this is a sorrowful romance film. Instead, like its title suggests, it is more like a beautiful bouquet — everything looks perfect at first and the flowers will eventually wither, but what was once in their hands is still a precious memory.

In addition, as the plot spans five years from 2015 to 2020, there are a couple of Japanese pop culture references that go with the year, which people who are familiar may notice. For instance, there is a scene at the karaoke room where the song RPG (2015) by J-pop band Sekai No Owari or End Of The World is sung. Other references include Nintendo Switch and video game The Legend Of Zelda, popular Japanese mobile game Puzzle & Dragons, and the mentioning of idol group SMAP who disbanded in 2016.

The movie may seem long with a runtime of 124 minutes, but We Made A Beautiful Bouquet is not an overly artistic film that can definitely be enjoyed by many young adults. Fans of Suda can also catch snippets of the actor-singer singing!

The blurb of 2023 Japanese Netflix Original film Call Me Chihiro describes the titular Chihiro (Kasumi Arimura) as an unapologetic former sex worker. Unapologetic is possibly too strong of a term for the passive protagonist of prolific filmmaker Rikiya Imaizumi’s latest film. Based on the manga of the same name, by Hiyoyuki Yasuda, we follow Chihiro (Kasumi Arimura) as she leaves her old life behind and serves bento to a welcoming town of friendly faces.

While it’s true that Chihiro (Arimura) displays no shame or remorse for her life choices, in this sedentary seaside town she doesn’t need to, the stigma of sex work isn’t really present. There is an allusion to the hardship she has faced, but this is definitely a more sanitized portrayal of that world. It’s an interesting choice of past life for the main character, but it’s almost irrelevant; it’s as if Chihiro would be equally lost if she was an architect or a doctor. The very adult nature of her previous life does, however, provide a stark and interesting juxtaposition to her childish attitudes and playful way of seeing the world.

This childishness becomes quite grating but makes sense for a character somewhat stuck in arrested development. Her companions are teenaged Okaji (Hana Toyoshima) and school boy Makoto (Tetta Shimada), though she is notably not in a position of authority with these two. If anything, they are her peers.

Chihiro’s ex-employer, Utsumi (Lily Franky) describes her as missing something inside, and Kasumi Arimura’s acting has to be praised. She does a great job of portraying this lack of engagement with the wider world, wearing the same expression whether she’s apologising for some unauthorised babysitting, watching a bar fight, or burying a corpse.

The film is brilliant at showing rootlessness and transience. Chihiro’s loneliness is made evident as she crawls on all fours to get attention from a disinterested cat. Inhibitions don’t plague her, and the eagerness she displays for some attention is very telling.

One aspect that is interesting in the first quarter of the film is Okaji’s obsession with Chihiro, the voyeurism and photographs a potential metaphor for the ownership of sex workers. But as the film goes on, and the two become friends, this doesn’t amount to anything. It is simply never explained why this teenage girl has taken hundreds of photos of a nearly-thirty-year-old woman playing on the swings.

Alongside food, which is an obvious motif – the rice and vegetables nourishing the characters’ bodies whilst the conversations and interactions nourish their souls – the other main theme running throughout the story is the importance of found family. Unfortunately, parents don’t fare well in this world, all of them unable to offer their children what they need. Chihiro’s found family are a motley crew, as lost and lonely as she is. But her impact on their lives, whilst on the surface wholly inappropriate, is nothing but positive.