The Atypical Family (2024) A Study in Salvation
Stories about human beings with special abilities are, of course, nothing new. They go back thousands of years (eg. the Greek pantheon) and are a testament to a perpetual longing to be rescued from crisis and catastrophe. In most recent days the success of the Marvel cinematic franchise in the main is evidence of the enduring quality of such stories drawn from ancient templates. It is no great surprise then that kind of storytelling intersection has occurred with South Korean and C dramas drawing on a similarly rich tradition of heroes in all manner of shapes and sizes. Clearly the idea of specially endowed human beings and the presence of gods among humans are not unique to the western literary canon. Moreover it is suggestive such stories are universal from even the most ancient civilizations. Could it be that there’s a innate longing for saviours? Or a type of saviour in particular?
Recently I’ve been spending time in the book of Judges from the Old Testament. In it God sends his unlikely “saviours” to deliver the Israelites from the hands of their enemies. What’s fascinating are the kinds of individuals chosen. The vast majority are hardly the paragons of virtue one might expect for such a holy task. Cowardly, impulsive and even morally compromised. They run the entire gamut. The one thing they have in common is that they are chosen to save an undeserving people.
Jang Ki-yong plays the younger sibling of the present-day Bok family, Gwi-ju. He is a former firefighter suffering from severe depression and his daughter I-na is suffering neglect. We know this because of his unhealthy relationship with alcohol. But the alcohol abuse is the symptom of a much deeper issue. Like all his Bok antecedents, Gwi-ju has a gift. His is the ability to travel to past moments of great happiness as an observer but not as a participant. That is until the death of his first wife — where he loses everything. Then the ability resurfaces with the appearance of Do Da-hae, a con-artist who targets rich households. Gwi-ju also has something of a saviour complex which the show is eager to sledgehammer home. Even as a rookie firefighter, he’s risking life and limb to save anything that moves. He is obsessed by the fact that he couldn’t save his wife, leaving his daughter to her own devices.
It’s no exaggeration to say that the Boks are in shambles. A family that has seen better days although their wealth was obtained from the use of the matriarch’s (Bok Man-heum) prescient dreams. That well is drying up and when the show opens the family is relying on a gym and the building it occupies to replenish the family coffers guarded with a leery eye by older sister Bok Dong-hee (Claudia Kim) who is struggling with weight issues. Dong-hee has lost her ability to fly and it isn’t entirely about her eating habits which could be symptomatic of larger challenges that have plagued her since childhood.
Enter Do Da-hae, a grifter specializing in ripping off wealthy men/families before doing a runner. She’s part of a gang headed by someone they call Mum (Kim Geum-eun), the owner of a nearby sauna. They are The Other Family of the show writ large — forged together by necessity and expediency rather than genetics but almost similarly dysfunctional. Da-hae first encounters the Bok matriarch at a massage parlour sensing almost immediately that this pleasant young woman might just be the key to everything.
Like the first installment of Pixar’s The Incredibles, the Boks are no longer at the peak of their prowess for one reason or another. Mother Bok is desperately trying to regain the glory days while everyone else is trying to find their raison d’etre. Young I-na is navigating high school alone because everyone else is too preoccupied with their own issues. She’s the equivalent of the Invisible Girl (an allusion to The Incredibles and its predecessor The Fantastic Four). Like Violet before her, Yi-na’s invisibility is a metaphor of someone who has been relegated to the ether of the secondary school abyss. Her invisibility begins at home with a dad wracked with guilt and indecision. But there’s also the overbearing grandmother pushing them all to regain their abilities.
The show is quick — too quick to my mind — to hard sell the themes of the show. Just in case the audience can’t work out what they should think about these two broken families it whacks you over the head in those early episodes with the words “lifestyle diseases” in flashing neon lights. For me at least the point of Dong-hee’s obesity and Gwi-ju’s depression are overmade. It isn’t a question of whether obesity is a global scourge. It has turned into an health epidemic worldwide due in part to lifestyle choices but it is equally true that the accessibility of fake processed foods has exacerbated the problem in multiple ways. Furthermore there’s no mention of insulin resistance or metabolic disorder which should be at the heart of every discussion on the subject.
This is not to say that the show doesn’t say anything of merit. The family issues are real and relatable especially for those familiar with the East Asian context. Oddly enough although inevitably the two families gradually come to realise that they need each other. Even cracked vessels have their use. Positioned in the right place and at the right time, even their flaws and machinations can bring about the greater good. The much quoted “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way” perhaps has something to contribute to this discussion. I would, however, beg to differ. The root cause is the same even if how it manifests might differ. In the New Testament book of James, the author notes, “What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you? You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and cannot obtain, so you fight and quarrel.”
Greed drives the matriarchal personalities and their families bear the brunt. But as the messaging goes… at the end of the day… even the most materialistic mothers love their children.
There is the sense that the Bok and sauna families are not only the most unlikely of allies, they are apparently designated to be agents of healing for each other. Da-hae is that bridge wherever she chooses to stand. Either with her sauna family or with the Boks who might become her in-laws.
This brings me to the show’s greatest flaw. In trying to do too much, some aspects of the narrative feel underdeveloped. The primary romance being my biggest issue. To be fair it is a difficult juggling act. The time skip element takes up the lion’s share of the plot although overlaps strongly with the romance. Then there’s the obligatory push and pull as Da-hae has an attack of the conscience. Certainly it’s the lady’s prerogative to change her mind :P but her changing her mind does have consequences. The need to be obvious about the messaging bogs the show down. The pacing is inconsistent although the second half is better than the first in that regard. The time travel mechanics is not neat to put it mildly but most of the audience would be content to take what comes. In Asian dramas time travel is largely a second chance trope, an opportunity for the characters to find their way out of an intractable predicament. In the end saving the Boks means saving Da-hae. Inevitably that leads to saving of every single person in both families.
Despite its flaws, there are plenty of heartwarming moments. I-na’s arc is particularly good. The father-daughter dynamic is the happy highlight. As they both struggle to communicate and Gwi-ju tries to redeem himself as a dad who lost his way, this is the one journey that feels the most authentic. With the help of the scamming ahjumma that has intruded into their lives.
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