Memoirs of A Geisha

Memoirs of A Geisha is a film directed by American director Rob Marshall in 2005. Set in Japan during World War II, the film tells the lifetime story of Chiyo Matsumoto, a young Japanese girl from an impoverished family who is sold to an okiya (geisha house) by her father. Heartbroken and lost, Chiyo meets Chairman Iwamura, her love for the lifetime, and decides to become a geisha so that she can be part of the Chairman’s life. However, becoming a geisha is not as easy as Chiyo has imagined. As a new geisha, Chiyo doesn’t have too much choice over her customers. She is forced to entertain Chairman’s friend, even though the only person who she admires is the Chairman. As Chiyo becomes the most well-known geisha in Gion, Japan’s defeat in the war eventually caused the downfall of entertainment activities. Chiyo is forced to leave Kyoto after her transient success as a geisha. But luckily, after the war, Chiyo meets the Chairman again while she helps him to relaunch his business after the war. In the final, Chiyo and the Chairman finally confess love to each other.

As a memoir, the film is narrated in Chiyo’s perspective and it’s easy for us to understand Chiyo’s thoughts at different time. After Chiyo falls in love with the Chairman, there is a scene where she runs down the Senbon Torii gates, smiling and anticipating. This is one of the most famous, and also my favorite melodramatic moment in the film. In this scene, Chiyo’s emotion is excessive. Her happiness, her hope, and her dream to become part of the Chairman’s life. The audience definitely read and feel Chiyo’s emotion, even without the narrative.

Another Melodramatic scene in the movie is where Chiyo’s rival, Hatsumomo, finds out her love for the Chairman and the two physically fight each other at the Okiya. There are a lot of emotional outburst, as the audience can feel the tension between these two women increase as we see Chiyo’s uneasiness. Hatsumomo used to be the most famous geisha at the okiya, but Chiyo’s success immediately takes all men’s attention from her. But Hatsumomo is not one of those subordinate geishas who do not fight against fate. She loves, she hates, and she acts purely based on her desire. Hatsumomo is the exact opposite of Chiyo’s teacher, Mameha, who is always calm and knows what’s best for herself. Throughout the film, Chiyo is basically choosing between Hatsumomo and mameha: either be dispassionate like Mameha or emotional like Mameha. In her Chiyo’s fight with Hatsumomo, we definitely see Chiyo is more like the latter. The motif behind all her actions is her love for the Chairman. When atsumomo is chased out of the okiya, Chiyo says, “ I could be her. Now I am geisha to this house. Were we so different? She loved once, she hoped once,  I might be looking into my own future.” At the end of that scene, the okiya is set on fire. Everything in the okiya is burnt into ashes, implying the end of Chiyo’s career as a geisha.

The second part of the movie, which is set in postwar Japan, mainly focus on the theme of chaos and the loss of tradition. The postwar Japan is experiencing huge culture change and foreigners mistakenly take geisha as prostitutes. Chiyo’s old friend, Pumpkin, who used to be a geisha at the okiya house, becomes one of those who sells her body to make a living.  However, Chiyo does not give in to this change. In her mind, geisha is an elegant work of art that allows her to reach the world that she otherwise could never reach; it is the only connection that she has with the Chairman. “But I was a far from the geisha I had once been. The secrets of our hidden world were postcards now for girls back home. Any streetwalker with a painted face and silk kimono could call herself a geisha.” The contradiction between Chiyo and Pumpkin is the vivid representation of the conflict of tradition and modernization in postwar Japan society. Chiyo is desperate, because now being a geisha means giving her body to another man. Up until here, the tragic elements are very obvious in the film. It seems natural for us to expect a sad ending that is common to most Japanese postwar melodramas. However, the film ends with Chiyo’s reunion with the Chairman, a happy ending that  is more common in Hollywood melodramas. After all, Memoirs of A Geisha is made by an American director. Although the style and the ending is quite different from a typical Japanese melodrama, it still in some degrees addresses the topic that is very common in Japanese melodrama.

3-Iron as Korean Melodrama

3-Iron is a Korean film directed by Kim Kiduk. The film follows the story of a silent vagrant, Taesuk, who breaks into the empty homes of various couples, families, and individuals who are on vacation. However, he is unlike other squatters; he enters these homes and fixes broken objects, does the dirty laundry, and cleans up after himself. One day, he breaks into the home of Sunhwa, a battered housewife who shares in Taesuk’s silence. Together, they move from one home to the next, trying to find a larger purpose through an intricate look at the lives of other people.  

The lack of dialogue between Taesuk and Sunhwa is one of the most memorable elements of this film. I would argue that, because of the main protagonists ability to communicate using meaningful glances, body language, and gestures, 3-Iron is an example of reinvented Korean melodrama.

It is worth mentioning that neither of the characters are actually mute; they have the ability to speak but instead choose to remain silent in a world saturated by noise, a world that talks and talks but fails to listen. By choosing silence, Taesuk and Sunhwa are able to connect emotionally and are able to foster a mutually beneficial relationship. This silence intensifies the overall emotions that both of the characters feel because there is not need for words. Inherently, this heightened state of emotions is common within the melodramatic genre.

Moreover, the ways in which the other characters in 3-Iron treat Taesuk contributes to the melodrama of the film. Even though he is technically breaking the law by entering into people’s homes without permission, he is never violent. 

When he eventually gets caught, he does not allow others to break him, nor does he ever retaliate. For example, Taesuk and Sunhwa break into the home of a famous boxer. When the boxer and his girlfriend return from their vacation, Taesuk does not appear to be overwhelmingly concerned. Moreover, he chooses not to fight back even when he gets beaten. 

We see this same sentiment when they get caught by the police for breaking into the home of a deceased older man. The man died of natural causes, but Taesuk and Sunhwa still decide to give him a noble burial. Out of respect, they carefully wrap his body and build a makeshift casket for the man. After remaining silent at their police interrogation, Sunhwa is eventually bailed out of jail by her abusive husband while Taesuk (unfortunately) is sent to solitary confinement.

What is interesting about Taesuk through all of these events is the absence of his desire to stand up for himself. Speaking the truth would relieve both he and Sunhwa from police interrogation, but he still chooses to remain silent. I would argue that, because Taesuk does not fight back despite being fully capable of doing so, audiences are able to sympathize even more with his character. This sharing of empathy is yet another characteristic of the melodramatic genre: the ability for a film to instill powerful emotions to its viewers.

(Left: Sunhwa's husband verbally berating her, demonstrating violence in sound)

3-Iron powerfully showcases the destructive nature of language and sound. The dialogue and sound within the film is often associated with violence, whether it’s Sunhwa’s husband’s hurtful words and actions, or the frustrated dialogue from the individuals whose homes were broken into. Conversely, audiences come to understand that Taesuk and Sunhwa are gentle creatures through their commitment to silence.  Ultimately, the juxtaposition of silence with violent noise and sound contributes to the overall melodrama of the film.

Ainori and Melodrama

Ainori

What is Ainori? 

Ainori is a Japanese reality TV show about 7 people on a bus traveling across Asia looking for love. There are four men and four women from various walks of life, and their goal is to find a match. When they feel like they have found someone they have feelings for, they have to confess their feelings. If their feelings are returned, the pair leave the show together, and if they are not, the person who confessed must leave alone. 

In Season 2 of the new Netflix reboot of this show, we see a lot of drama erupt as these seven participants look for love. In episode 6 of the show, the men are Tom, Myanmar, Dr. Morimori and Hidekun. The women are Depparin, Yuchan, and Moa. Yuchan is shy, and depends on the loudmouthed and confident Depparin for help. The main conflict of the episode arises when Depparin gets fed up with Yuchan's constant requests for advice and, while drunk, starts yelling at Yuchan.

Depparin bullies Yuchan, and then begins to yell at the men for not taking sides and being quiet. The men try and get her to calm down, and the crew tell everyone to return to their rooms, but Depparin refuses to let it go. Eventually, they all decide to leave, but Depparin tells everyone to come to her room afterwards. The men go and comfort Yuchan, and she decides that she needs some time alone. The men go to Depparin's room and tell her that Yuchan wanted to be by herself, and Depparin is furious. She goes out and decides to chase after Yuchan. She finds her and begins to berate her again, becoming physically violent. When Tom and the director try to restrain her, she physically assaults them all, until she is taken down to the ground in a fit of fury and tears. At the end of the conflict, she is physically carried away.

How does this relate to melodrama?

Clearly, this episodes contained a lot of drama. But how can an unscripted reality series fit under the umbrella of melodrama? Although the events of the series are presumably genuine, the way it is edited and the narrative constructed by the producers and director is very much intentional. Even the events themselves unfold because of the producers' actions. Depparin was a character who caused lots of trouble in the first season, so she was brought back largely because the producers knew that she would cause a commotion again, making the show dramatic. They also put the participants in a situation where they would be drinking alcohol together because they knew conflict might occur.

In this sense, the idea of forced drama is very strong in this show. A lot of the conflicts arise because of forced circumstances. Much like in melodrama, the characters play very specific roles. Depparin is placed in the role of an aggressor, and this is highlighted by the narration and the commentators of the show. Yuchan is portrayed as a damsel in distress. Many characters have certain aspects of their personality heightened to make them appear a certain way. For example, Tom is often referred to as a crybaby because he often breaks down emotionally, and this becomes his defining trait in the show. These participants, who are three-dimensional humans, are placed into archetypes because that makes the show easily digestible and interesting.

The show also chooses to show certain things over others, and to show these things in a certain way that fits their narrative. Although the events may have really happened, the way that they built up to Depparin and Yuchan's conflict makes it fit into the typical story structure of a build up to an emotional outburst. In addition, many melodramatic themes, such as love and romance, are highlighted. These elements are what make any story interesting, and reality shows are no different.

THE ROSE OF VERSAILLES / ベルサイユのばら

THE ROSE OF VERSAILLES / ベルサイユのばら

The Rose of Versailles, by Riyoko Ikeda, is originally a manga serialized in 1972. It is considered one of the most iconic Japanese shojo manga series of all time. For this blog post, I will focus on its animated adaptation.

Story / Characters

Set in late 18th century Paris, The Rose of Versailles revolves around the life of Oscar Francois de Jarjayes, a girl raised as a man to take on her father’s place as the commander of the Palace Guards, which is responsible for protecting the Palace of Versailles. Oscar spends her childhood with Andre, the grandson of her nanny, and the two grow up to become capable combatants and close friends, almost like sworn brothers.

Meanwhile, Marie Antoinette also grows up to be an exquisite young woman. Following the death of Louis XV, she is now burdened with the duties of the queen of France, yet her carefree personality and sheltered upbringing sometimes work against her place in the palace. Oscar becomes the personal bodyguard of Marie Antoinette, and the two nurtured a harmonic friendship. Oscar quickly becomes greatly adored by the court ladies of the Palace. Later, a young and handsome Swedish Count, Axel von Fersen, stays the Palace to learn how social etiquette is done in France. Marie Antoinette helplessly falls in love with Fersen – whom Oscar also harbors feelings for - and the two begin an adulterous relationship. Andre also starts to realize that the feelings he has for Oscar are of something deeper than mere friendship.

The Rose of Versailles, with the tragic backdrop of the French Revolution, mainly chronicles the romance and demise of these four characters among others.

Character Archetypes

In The Rose of Versailles, most of the main characters more or less fit into molds of archetypical characters that are especially common in historical “palace dramas.”

Marie Antoinette

Marie Antoinette is a quite typical heroine in the story. She is ravishing, sweet, innocent, and most importantly, extremely vulnerable to villainous forces. The villains (mostly females scheming for power within the court) see Marie as an easy target to manipulate, due to her straightforward sense of righteousness and her “ineptitude” and inexperience in being queen at a young age.

Madame Du Barry

The chief villains Madame du Barry, Duchess of Polignac, and Jeanne of Volois-Saint-Remy are typical antagonists in a court setting. They utilize their attractiveness to gain the favor and affection of powerful men (Louis XV, Duke of Orleans, etc.) and in turn, use this favor they gained against a vulnerable woman in the court (Marie Antoinette) whose position they want to overtake.

Oscar in uniform vs. Oscar in dress

However, Oscar’s androgynous appearance and demeanor made this series unique. She can be described as a “男装の麗人/dansou no reijin”: a beautiful, cross-dressing woman (who does so usually because the story requires her to).

Oscar embodies both the hero and heroine archetypes of melodrama in the way that she is both handsome and beautiful, both gallant and caring, and both charming and virginal. While she dresses in masculine uniform for the majority of the series, there is one key moment in the story where she attends a ball at the palace in a hyperfeminine dress and coiffure. This change is so drastic that no one at the ball recognizes her, not even Fersen – who is the reason why Oscar does it in the first place because she wants to approach him romantically and “experience being a woman for only one night.” This event makes her an incredibly intriguing character, since both her masculine and feminine performances are powerful, so she, in fact, genuinely embodies the best of both worlds.

The “Moral Occult”

According to Brooks, the melodramatic mode is first of all characterized by its moral or ethical vision. The historical context of The Rose of Versailles provides a rather augmented moral framework for the characters since most of the characters wield great power to literally change history (a lot of them are based on actual historical figures). The stakes of their actions are incredibly high, thus adding to the tragic/epic nature of the series. All the main characters have to deal with “the contradiction between obligations to society – including one’s family, villages, class, trade, or business (giri) – and individual human feelings (ninjo)” (Russell, p.146). First of all, Marie Antoinette and Fersen’s passionate affair is probably an affair of the most scandalous kind, since it involves the queen of France.

As for Oscar, her conflict stems from her obligation and loyalty to her family (in the katei sense), and to the French royalty, to which her family has sworn loyalty to. She is able to display an extremely staunch devotion to these two groups, until the arrival of Fersen who “enlightens” Oscar with the (feminine) sensations of “being a woman”: helplessly falling in love. At first, Oscar seems to be unbound by gender expectations, yet it turns out that she still feels trapped by the masculine gender conventions she performs. Andre, who is born a commoner and is well aware that he is not worthy of Oscar’s affection, tries hard to harbor his feelings towards her and remain a loyal companion. All these characters are put through great agony due to the forbidden nature of their romances.

Andre & Oscar

Another aspect of melodrama The Rose of Versailles raises is class. “Characters are either frightened of losing the status that they have or inflamed by the desire to improve it,” writes Ken K. Ito. This pretty much sums up what motivates the villains to be villains. The most vicious example is Jeanne, the adopted daughter of a commoner of aristocratic descent who believes she should return to her rightful place – by all means.

Aesthetics

Riyoko Ikeda is known for her extremely elegant illustration style, and the anime adaptation does a good job of replicating it to a reasonable extent. The ornamental style, along with vibrant color design, sets up a dream-like, romantic world for The Rose of Versailles to take place in.

Their theatrical dialogue, further exaggerated by the dramatic voice-acting typical in Japanese anime, is highly stylized as well as that is far from how real people talk like in Japanese. Japanese depictions of Early Modern European history at the time seem to share a similar speech pattern. This heightened artificiality and otherness, in fact, make The Rose of Versailles a perfect story for a theatrical adaptation. That is why Takarazuka Revue, one of the most prestigious theatre troupe in Japan, brought it on stage and it has since then become a treasured Takarazuka classic.

All That Heaven Allows

Directed by German film maker Douglas Sirk, All That Heaven Allows is one of the Hollywood melodrama masterpieces in 1950s. Focus mainly on women’s identity and desire, the film tells the story of Cary Scott, a wealthy, middle-aged widow living in a typical town in America in the 50s. Cary’s life is simple and boring after her husband’s death: she spends most of her time at home or goes to one of those boring country club parties. Longing for love and companionship, Cary falls in love with her young and handsome gardener Ron Kirby. Ron is like no one Cary has met before; he despise materialism and worships freedom. Cary soon finds peace and regains her passion for love during her time with Ron and his friends. But things do not go well for the couple. The gap between Cary’s and Ron’s social class immediately makes them the center of gossip in town. Cary’s neighbors mock Ron’s incivilization and Cary’s inappropriate behaviors as a widow. Under the pressure of her children and neighbors, Cary has to break up with Ron to keep her family together. But soon she finds that her sacrifice means nothing, as her son Ned is leaving the country and her daughter is getting married. Lonely and heartbroken, Cary returns to Ron but only finds out that he has an accident. Luckily, Ron wakes up and they confess love to each other. In the end, Cary leaves home and decides to live with Ron at his old mill.

Similar to many melodramas we have discussed earlier in the class, All That Heaven Allows focus on women’s identity and suffering, which is often caused by difference in socioeconomic classes. From the very beginning, Cary’s uneasiness in the cocktail party has showed the audience her struggle in the community. After her husband’s death, Cary is supposed to be an “unsexed” woman because of her identity as a widow. During her conversation with her daughter about  the old Egyptian custom of sacrificing the widows, Cary says “perhaps not in Egypt”, implying that her community in some way already view her as “dead. ” However, she wears a red dress to show her still existing beauty and sexuality. It is a sign of her resistance to the community’s values. Her relationship with Ron is the emancipation of her sexuality.

One of the most melodramatic scenes in the film is Ned and Kay’s reaction to Cary’s marriage. Cary is a typical motherly figure, and we can see that motherhood and desire for love are both intuitive to her. The melodramatic element comes in when she is forced to make a choice between the two. Cary starts to doubt her decision to marry Ron when her children are hurt by their relationship. Even though she tries to ignore people’s opinion and chases for her love, she is not as strong as she thinks. Ned, who becomes the patriarchal figure in the family after his father’s death, accuses Cary of giving up the family tradition and falls for “a good looking set of muscles.” Kay, no longer able to ignore the malignant comments about her family, forces Cary to choose them over Ron. Here, Ned and Kay serve as the  force that results in Cary and Ron’s separation and later tragedy. They do not care about Cary’s feeling and only consider the benefits of their own. Ned and Kay are satisfied with their positions in the community. Even though Cary can withdraw herself from the community, there is no way for her to separate her children from the rest. At that moment, it seems like Cary does not have a choice beside breaking up with Ron (actually she does, but she choose her children and the community). Later, when the children return home joyfully because of the breakup, they immediately move on to other things and leaving Cary at home with a television box. Unlike the mothers in Haha no Kyoku and Stella Dallas, Cary does not seem very happy with her son’s success and her daughter’s marriage. Instead, she regrets her meaningless sacrifice for them. Obviously, Cary longs for companionship. But her children, the ones who she decides to sacrifice for, never care about her feelings, considering she is a widow who doesn’t need love. The Christmas scene is very melodramatic as Cary’s emotion, her emptiness and helplessness, forms a sharp contrast to everything else. The scene ends with Cary’s reflection on the TV screen. With Ned’s and Kay’s faces hidden, the only thing that Cary can see is herself, emphasizing her solitude at the moment.

It’s comforting to see Cary return to Ron at the end of the film, after all those difficulties that they go through. Cary and Ron’s story has a happy ending, which in some way also reflects the melodramatic nature of the story. If it’s in real life, Cary could have ended up alone at the house, like many other unfortunate women.

Blog post 3: GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES 火垂るの墓

GRAVE OF THE FIREFLIES
火垂るの墓 analyzed through the lens of melodrama

This is a devastating Ghibli film that depicts the cost of war through the story of Seita, a teenage boy, and Setsuko, his little sister. Together, they must survive American firebombs after losing both their parents to the war. 

PLOT:

The movie opens by revealing the final outcome right from the beginning: depicted is Seita dressed in uniform, on the night of his death. It then cuts to present-day, in which he is malnourished and dressed in drab clothing. As Seita dies at a train station, train passengers disregard him and janitors throw out his tin candy can into a faraway field. It then cuts to the ghost of his younger sister. The ghost of Seita picks up the tin can to return it to Setsuko, and they walk off into the distance.

The movie cuts to a flashback to explain this devastating outcome. After the two lose their mother to a firebombing, Seita and Setsuko are left to fend for themselves. Their only other relative is their aunt, who convinces Seita to sell his mother's kimonos for food. Seita gives the food to her but keeps a tin can of candy for Setsuko. As rations shrink, the aunt becomes resentful of the two children. She screams at Setsuko when she cries for her own mother, and eventually put the siblings in a position to buy their own living supplies to live on their own.

They find an abandoned bomb shelter to live in. On the first night in their new home, Setsuko discovers fireflies in the fields and brings them into the shelter for light. The siblings decide to fill it with fireflies but are horrified to find that they all die the following morning. Setsuko decides to bury them in a grave, revealing to Seita that her aunt had told her about her mother's ill-fated death, and how she had been thrown into a grave. Seita, who had done everything he could to keep this a secret, is devastated. As the two begin to run out of rice, Seita grows into the habit of stealing. One day he is caught and is taken to the police. Setsuko finds him at the station and admits that she is feeling sick. When they go to the doctor, he explains that Setsuko is suffering from malnutrition.

Seita withdraws all the remaining money from his mother's bank account and learns of Japan's defeat to the US. He realizes that his father is likely dead. Although he is able to purchase a lot of food, when he returns home, his sister is dying. Seita tries to feed her watermelon, her favorite snack, but as he prepares more food, Setsuko takes her last breath. Seita cremates his sister's body in a straw casket, filled with her personal belongings. He carries her ashes in the candy tin can, her favorite candies. He is now left to fend for life on his own.

The movie ends with their ghosts overlooking a current Kobe from a hill. They have united once again... but in spirit.

THEME: The Unfairness of Seita and Setsuko's Situation 

In The Melodrama of Being a Child, Karen Wells writes, "Character in melodrama is not expressed through dialogue but through situations, mise en scéne, action-tableaux and episodic narration... [for] the spectator to viscerally identify with other people's experience, particularly their suffering and the incontrovertible unfairness of the situation... Critical to the effective representation of innocence is the powerlessness of the suffering subject; it is the subject's lack of structural power and capacity that signifies the impossibility of being culpable for his or her own suffering. It is for this reason that melodrama invariably centers on women and children and, to a lesser extent, racialized minorities... In melodrama, the action is constrained by the passivity and impotence of the victim in his or her confrontation with villainy and injustice."

The inability of the narrative to be resolved by simply allowing an adult to rescue Seita and Setsuko creates an excess that is portrayed through facial expressions, music, and the colors of the animation. The realism of Setsuko's malnutrition and Seita's inability to help cannot be resolved: even after the war has ended, others are powerless to stop their suffering. The rich are able to return to their homes, untouched and innocent to the threat of bombs. 

But not Seita and Setsuko. Their mother and father are both dead, and they have no other relatives to go to for care. 

This heightens the devastating effects of the film, leaving the audience feeling as if they are at fault for not having been able to do anything to help. Although the characters have dialogue, it is as if they don't have a voice, confined by the reality of their situation.  

THE UNSYMPATHETIC AUNT: 

The narrative begins by making it immediately clear that the two have no one to go to for care except their aunt, who is unkind and unsympathetic to their situation. When Seita tells her of his mother's death, rather than do anything to make Seita feel better, she yells at him for not telling him any sooner. She even convinces him to sell his mother's kimonos for rice when food rations grow smaller.

Although Seita makes it clear that he wishes not to reveal of their mother's death to Setsuko, his aunt does so anyway. In one scene, Setsuko and Seita play on the piano singing a tune to brighten their dampened spirits. Despite this, their aunt comes into the scene to yell at them to be quiet and make "be more productive," because she is angry with them for not helping around the house. 


The aunt's total lack of sympathy for their situation creates a toxic environment for Setsuko and Seita. Although the aunt is their only relative that can provide a home, the two must leave and survive on their own. 

LIFE WEARS AWAY THE WILL TO LIVE: 
Critic Dennis H. Fukushima Jr. finds the story's origins in traditional double-suicide plays. Although neither sibling actually commits suicide, life simply wears away their will to live. 

SETSUKO's GESTURES:

Gestures are used to give voice to Setsuko's limited vocabulary. She is a child, after all, and lacks the ability to express her emotions in the same way an adult is able to.
Unlike a live-action film, animated films are unable to show human reactions. Post-war films produced by Ghibli are known for using "limited-animation" techniques to lower production costs but speed up the production process. Even if animations were not fluid or fully animated, images could be flashed in rapid succession and create an illusion of motion. This is what Takahata, the director of this film uses by blending limited animation with naturalistic motion to highlight still poses. 

When Setsuko begins to cry about missing her mother, Seita does everything in his power to cheer her up. It doesn't work. The film focuses on a shot of Setsuko wavering left and right, pouting at the ground, holding back her tears. Even when she is about to cry, the animation of her quivers and she stands still, twisting her legs together. The style of the animation heightens the realness of Setsuko's emotions and gives voice to her suffering. 

사도 (Sado)/ The Throne (Blog 3)

Plot Summary:

The Throne, a 2015 South Korean movie, is directed by Lee Joon-ik and starring Song Kang-hoo and Yoo Ah-in. The movie is based on one of the most well-known and saddest true stories that happened in South Korean history. It sets in Joseon period and when the country was under King Yeongjo’s rule. The Throne depicts the darkness of the palace, the constraints between different parties, the heartbreaking father-son relationship between King Yeongjo and Crown Prince Sado, and the tragic execution of Crown Prince Sado. It first opens with Crown Prince Sado enters King Yeongjo’s palace with a sword, and then as he is locked inside of a rice chest for punishment, the story unfolds and tells the struggle of both Crown Prince Sado and King Yeongjo. Under King Yeongjo’s high expectation, Crown Prince Sado has been living in extreme high pressure and his performance has never satisfied King Yeongjo. The King wants a perfect heir to the throne, while the son wants a warm compliment and ordinary relationship with the father. Their relationship and the different political parties lead Crown Prince Sado to a tragic ending.

Historical Background:

The execution of Crown Prince Sado is one of the most tragic events in Korean history. And the reason for his execution is also debatable that whether it is because he is a sacrifice as a result of political game, or  because his mental illness. Crown Prince Sado’s tragedy also reflects how merciless King Yeongjo was. Everything about him was tabooed until King Yeongjo passed away. King Jeongjo, who was the son of Prince Sado and also the next ruler after King Yeongjo, honored his father Sado and restated his name and identity as Prince Sado’s son since his grandfather added him to his deceased uncle’s family tree after Prince Sado was executed.

His wife, Lady Hyegyeong, wrote a memoir for Prince Sado which is considered as the only textual evidence for what really happened to him during this period. In her book, he claimed that Prince Sado is very mentally ill, and her theory might be also the first to talk about bipolar disorder in history.

The story of Prince Sado has been portrayed multiple times in popular culture, such as TV series, movies, and Webtoon. For modern generations, his tragedy is too far away from our real life which makes it become a great source for writing historical drama.

Real Event VS. Melodrama:

Although the film, The Throne, is based on a historical event, it is still a historical drama instead of a documentary. Since the taboo of the whole execution and existence of Prince Sado after his death, nowadays script writers can only based on the explanations that are left behind and create story with their interpretations. For example, The Throne is mainly focus on the father-son relationship, and many melodramatic scenes were around their relationship.

As shown here, the scene where Prince Sado is locked up inside the rice chest: King Yeongjo nails the rice chest himself. The close up of him hammering the nails, the diegetic sound of hammering is like a little bit terrifying considering this is the biological father locking his own son inside the chest. And the sound is like hitting on the audiences’ hearts. However, this scene is also melodramatic since the King doesn’t actually proceed execution on his own. The action of having King Yeongjo is a completely theatrical decision in order to show the extreme relationship between King Yeongjo and Prince Sado.

However, the movie doesn’t only show King Yeongjo’s indifference and cold-heart towards Prince Sado. As the movie unfolds chronologically as the execution, the underlying storyline is the flashbacks of King Yeongjo and  Prince Sado’s past which explains how father and son become like this. And the image on the right shows a scene when King Yeongjo is writing a book for Prince Sado that he stays up in the midnight. It is when Prince Sado is still a child, and the flashback makes strong contradiction to the “present” storyline where as King Yeongjo is watching Prince Sado dying in the rice chest. As the story builds up, the emotions between King Yeongjo and Prince Sado also grow more complicated from love to disappointment, and hate. The way of storytelling makes the whole movie very emotional and melodramatic as the audiences watch towards the end.

Theme Song:

Here below are the lyrics of one of songs from the original sound track, “As the Flowers Bloom and Fall”. The lyrics are from Prince Sado’s point of view and the song is sung by famous actor and singer Jo Seungwoo. It is one of my favorite original songs for South Korean movie. I did a rough translation just to give an idea of the contents of the song.

나 이제 가려합니다 아픔은 남겨두고서
당신과의 못다한 말들 구름에 띄워놓고 가겠소

I am leaving now, and the pains are left behind me.

The words that I couldn’t tell you, I ask the clouds to pass them to you.

그대 마음을 채우지 못해 참 많이도 눈물 흘렸소
미안한 마음 두고 갑니다 꽃이 피고 또 지듯이
I couldn’t fulfil your wish and expectations. And the tears fall like heavy rain.

So I leave my apologies and guilt behind, and go away alone like the flowers bloom and fall.

허공을 날아 날아 바람에 나를 실어
외로웠던 새벽녘 별들 벗삼아 이제 나도 떠나렵니다
Floating in the empty sky, I’m carried away by the wind.

I used to be friends with the stars at lonely dawn, but now I’m also leaving.

이렇게 우린 서로 그리워 하면서도
마주보고 있어도 닿을수 없어
왜 만날수 없었나요
Although we both miss each other so badly, I still couldn’t reach you when we are facing each other.

Why couldn’t we see each other?

행여 당신 가슴 한켠에 내 체온 남아 있다면
이 바람이 흩어지기 전 내얼굴 한번 만져주오

If I could leave a mark in your heart by any chance, please pet my face gently before this wind goes away.