Queen of Tears (2024) Episodes 6-10
It’s a testament to the quality of the writing that the “idiot brother” of the Queens clan becomes an exemplar of unconditional love. Soo-cheol who was an object of ridicule is now depicted as a devoted father and husband. In his gullible simplicity he is pining for the family he once had and has now lost to a conspiracy that played him for a fool. All he can do in his waking moments is helplessly worry about a son that’s not his. In his despair he’s wondering whether the lad’s getting proper medical care now that he’s nowhere within reach.
Clearly Soo-cheol is a product of a ridiculous entitled upbringing that has ensured that he has never had to really struggle for anything until now. Jokes are made about his formerly pampered lifestyle — bottled water from the Alps or Spanish mattresses — to emphasize the family’s ivory tower existence until all that comes crashing down into rubble. Their once luxurious home is now the den of thieves — a pair of mother and son who represent the spirit of covetousness that steal, kill and destroy. Happily for the former householders, the new occupants have learnt the entirely wrong lesson from the Hong family’s fall from grace. A divided household is what causes unhappiness not the lack of luxury. Before they can even enjoy the fruits of their labour, mother and son are already working from different pages of a book penned twenty years earlier. This tenuous collaboration is doomed from the start. Arguably the implication is that too much wealth inevitably leads to stupidity. Couple that with a life lacking in any kind of struggle. Perhaps when birth hands everything to you on a platter to have your best life instantly, complacency sets in and the muscles atrophy. The show itself provides a simple example. Soo-cheol has never learnt to ride a bicycle and was never incentivized to do so. His mother handles him like a porcelain vase because he’s her remaining son. Now that he’s a dad, a strong sense of responsibility has overtaken him. For the first time in his life, someone depends on him without judgment.
In stark contrast is THE perfect son-in-law, the family’s all too-reliable consort who despite having been shown the door, is a stalwart. There’s even a comment made by Hae-in with all the irony the script can muster — Baek Hyun-woo was born to love and protect her with all of his might. It’s an impulse that began from a young age and everything that’s transpired since the discovery of her rare illness is only evidence of that. Even while he struggles with accommodating the family after his grief over losing their child, his instinct to protect the woman he married and by extension her overindulged family never falters. He is cut from the same mould as your typical superhero — he prattles off the law and handily takes on opponents in hand to hand combat. When the family is driven out unceremoniously, he holds fort back at Queens HQ enduring attacks from his jealous rival and the butt of office gossip.
The other contrast is the man who aspires to be the replacement consort. In a real enough way, everything he’s ever done is to get the girl. In the script that he’s written, he is on a quest to win the heart of Queens’ princess by hook or by crook. He’s a common enough so-called second male lead trope. By sheer effort alone, he hopes to gain the ultimate prize. This kind of second male lead routinely makes an appearance in short C dramas as the one who holds the female lead and even becomes her children’s godfather but he seldom ever wins her heart. Even when he’s by her side for 5, 6, 7 years devoted to caring for that incomplete family, he can never fill the place of the children’s father or the void left behind by the female leads’ true love. It’s not even about first come first served. In these types of stories the desire turns into an unhealthy obsession which hastens his inevitable downfall. It’s not getting the girl that matters but not getting the girl. The one that got away. The thrill of the chase, the competition with her ex-husband and the thought of getting the prize. This one too has a particularly ruthless mother who callously left him to his own devices.
In Asian dramas, but Korean dramas especially, love cannot be earned or won. It is fated. That spark, that connection — it’s beyond the realm of the mundane or the natural. It transcends time and station. It doesn’t matter if it’s a day or year. Or if he’s rich or poor. Even the quality of the lead is irrelevant. At the end of the day, love is not a reward. A person isn’t loved because they have checked off all the boxes. Love is a gift not a reward. That’s why in short C dramas women who have been so badly treated by their husbands in the past are still in love with them and are able to forgive the sinner all their sins. Only she can love that designated sinner.
Hilariously, the Hongs find themselves on the run hiding out in rural pear country where their in-laws reside. Apart from the usual jokes about city slickers slumming it uncomfortably out of their comfort zone, it’s an opportunity for this divided family to reflect on the hows and whys. The chairman has been rendered unconscious and his de facto wife is now ruling the roost with her son, Eun-sang who is persistently one-note about Hae-in. Even when the family was residing in the big Hong house, it was too big. Now with only three people, it’s a museum with a well-stocked wine cellar.
In a lesser known Hans Christian Andersen story, The Most Incredible Thing, a young clockmaker wins the title, the hand of a princess and half the kingdom with his glorious invention. On the day of their marriage, another contender comes along and destroys the masterpiece with his axe. This burly character proclaims himself the new winner because he has done “the most incredible thing.” His claim is echoed by the judges who acknowledge that to destroy such a beautiful work of art is the most incredible thing they’ve ever seen.
Aside from being a Christian allegory bursting with irony, the story powerfully highlights how little time it takes to destroy something that others have meticulously built over time — centuries and millennia. Spectacle and hot-blooded enthusiasm trumping good sense. It is the lesson of history. It explains the rise and fall of civilizations. It is only too easy to undermine what others have painstakingly built over time. It’s the hubris of villains whose only goal is to win.
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