It's okay

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It's Okay To Not Be Okay
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The realm of fairy tales, for quite some time, has been defined by the romances in it

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The realm of fairy tales, for quite some time, has been defined by the romances in it. And only recently did its definition expand to familial love. This rather contemporary evolution is quite evident in several Disney and Pixar films — from Cinderella and Aladdin to Frozen and Onward. There is also the more macabre transformation of Sleeping Beauty into Maleficent. The Korean drama, It’s Okay To Not Be Okay, on Netflix, balances its act using these three, occasionally distinct, fairy tale classifications — romance, family, and mild horror. With these elements blended together, this show does exhibit some masala film characteristics. And while this cocktail helps bring out some wildly engaging moments in the drama, it is also the reason for unintended narrative clutter.

Most films or even shows, especially romances, follow a similar sequence of events — initial attraction, followed by conflict and friction, and then, final resolution

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Most films or even shows, especially romances, follow a similar sequence of events — initial attraction, followed by conflict and friction, and then, final resolution. The K-drama, from its very outset, subverts this narrative and perpetually resides in the second part of the process. Within its conflict and friction, lies the attraction. It is an impressive attempt at interweaving the two disparate steps. And given that only 10 episodes, out of a 16-part series, have released as of now, not much can be said about the show’s closure. But there is enough substance, in this series, to gauge how it is and how it may turn out.

From the get-go, we are introduced to the quintet of central characters — all of them are in a love-hate, hate-hate, love-love relationship with each other. The most fickle and capricious of them all is Ko Mun-yeong (Seo Ye-ji), an affluent children’s fairy tale writer. Unlike the nature of her profession, she isn’t quite honeyed and amiable. Some say she has an antisocial personality disorder, but barring this purported diagnosis, she is quite like an apathetic, egocentric serpent. Mun-yeong is besotted with Moon Gang-tae (Kim Soo-hyun), a caregiver at a psychiatric hospital. His job overlaps with his position at home — he also has to look after his autistic elder brother (Oh Jeong-se). Gang-tae is composed and collected, patient and poised, because every facet of his life demands this demeanour.

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