Minerva's Ramblings: Startup (2020)

 

Gotta admit the first reason I started watching Startup was Kim Seon-ho – having suffered major second-lead syndrome in 100 Days My Prince and then seeing him as the lead in Hometown Cha Cha Cha, I was looking forward to another performance of his. The premise of this show sounded entertaining enough, but nothing spectacular – just the kind of “time-pass” watch I needed at the time.

Wow, was I impressed! I was expecting an average feel-good romance set vaguely against some kind of corporate backdrop, but I was wrong. This turned out to be a sophisticated, entertaining romance-drama with a good dose of sensibility and a great deal of heart.

Being an entrepreneurship consultant myself, the way in which the startup culture was presented really fascinated me. Not that I am about to base my learnings of global best practices off of K-dramas, but still – who doesn’t want to begin their entrepreneurial journey in a place like Sandbox? Not to mention that the colourful environment and free food is enough to brighten up the gloomiest Monday blues (well, almost).

To put things in perspective, Startup is one of the best examples of its genre that I have seen where the setting is seamlessly integrated into the narrative structure without just…hanging there, so to speak. I say this because the romance genre in particular, is famous for giving us random settings that look cool on screen but have little to do with either the plot or characters. Sandbox, however, is not just a plot device for the main characters to run into each other. Rather, it is the heart of the show, defining character worldviews and driving the narrative forward. The little post-it notes on the wall sum it up perfectly, with everyone having their own distinct motives for doing what they do.

I was particularly impressed with how the personal and professional journeys of each of the main characters were intertwined so flawlessly and integrated into the corporate backdrop, without it feeling forced or gimmicky. The episodes are titled appropriately with startup lingo, such as “Minimum Viable Product”, “Key Man”, “Burn Rate” and “Acquhire”, with each term being given a simple explanation on screen, which I thought was a lovely touch! 

A good romance is nothing without great leads. And boy, does Startup have them.

First of all, we have Nam Do-san. This is the guy you cannot help falling in love with. He is smart, kind, humble, gentle and loving. This is the guy who will go all out for you, the guy who will have your back, no matter what. As a friend, a lover, a son…heck, even as a grandson-in-law (is that a thing?), he is someone you definitely want by your side.

Do-san may not be winning any prizes for eloquence, but with him it is all about the actions. Big ones, like when he carries Chul-san on his back to the hospital, or develops an ENTIRE. FREAKING. APP. for his girlfriend’s grandmother whom he barely even knows…and little ones, like when he stares longingly at his own hands to remind himself that, however superficial or random, they are a tiny part of the real him that Dal-mi genuinely likes. 

Can we just take a moment to appreciate Nam Joo-hyuk’s performance? I guess playing an introvert convincingly is more difficult that playing an extrovert, since so much depends on what the character does not do, and does not say. Nam Joo-hyuk simply blew me away. Watching him on screen was like a character study of its own – his eyes, his smile, the little mannerisms with his hands and shoulders – he brings out Do-san’s dorkiness and genius perfectly, while keeping him very much human.

Then we have Seo Dal-mi. She is a breath of fresh, fragrant air, like one of the cherry blossoms blooming at her doorstep. She is so bubbly and cute that you can well imagine why not just one, but TWO amazing men would be falling head over heels for her. Much of it is to do with Bae Suzy’s innate loveliness – her smile alone makes you want to smile as well.

But Dal-mi is not just a pretty airhead. Her character, like the rest of the leads in the show, has a lot of depth. She is not portrayed as a super smart princess to whom everything comes easily. In terms of talent or brains she is in fact quite average, and has her fair share of struggles among people who are more privileged and smarter than her. But her most admirable quality is her innate ability to turn every threat into an opportunity and that, no matter what, she never gives up. Her single-minded perseverance creates the perfect balance to Do-san’s more laidback, dreamy approach, while her tenacity and ability to think on her feet make her a natural leader. 

Finally, we have the man himself, Han Ji-pyeong. This is the guy you most definitely do not want to fall in love with. He is a snobbish, arrogant prick and is certainly not the “Good Boy” that Halmoni insists he is. And yet you cannot hate him. Other than Halmoni, he really has no one who means anything to him in life. We must remember that while Do-san is an extremely socially awkward person, he does have a very close-knit circle of family and friends and therefore, it is not too much of a stretch for him to develop other healthy relationships – something which Ji-pyeong, for all his swag, has never had. Of course he is uneasy connecting with and trusting people at a deeper level, even though these are people he loves.

Ji-pyeong is a character you love to hate. You empathize with his past, admire his success and shake your fist at his idiocy all at the same time. He is brutally self-aware and yet utterly clueless about his own emotions, and Kim Seon-ho plays him with a reckless, charming je ne sais quoi that makes you want to slap him and hug him at the same time (my husband kept switching between wanting him to get the girl and not get the girl between episodes – for a non-K-drama fan, these were some pretty intense reactions).

As any serious fan knows, a good K-drama needs a kickass supporting cast. And Startup has an awesome lineup! From Won In-jae, who seemingly has it all but is desperate to break free and be her own person – to the mysterious Alex, who brings some much-needed conflict to the plot – to Dal-mi’s unbearable ninny of a mother whom you slowly begin to care for, almost against your will – each of these characters is memorable.  

Of course, pride of place goes to Halmoni, played by Kim Hae-sook, the mother (or should I say grandmother) of this entire chain of events (seriously, K-dramas have the BEST grandmas) and without whose bright idea this drama would not need to exist. Truly, her idea of getting an older boy to write anonymous letters to her depressed teen granddaughter using a fake identity is a garbage idea and doomed for failure right from the start. And yet you can’t deny that this is literally the ONLY ray of light in Dal-mi’s life that keeps her going for years, so perhaps grandmother did know best, after all.

Shoutout to Kim Joo-hun, who is clearly a master of his craft. Even with such little screen time, his portrayal as Dal-mi’s dad is powerful and absolutely heart-wrenching. I can never think of nosebleeds the same way again. Likewise, Director Yoon (Seo Yi-sook) who is ultimate girl power goals – if I could have half her wisdom, elegance and wit at her age, I would be very happy!

While the individual characters are awesome, where the show really scores is in depicting their relationships with each other. Apart from the main couple and their obvious chemistry, Halmoni and Ji-pyeong were perhaps my favourite duo, and just seeing them together on screen made me feel all fuzzy inside. I also enjoyed the love-hate relationship between the sisters and how this was handled to show their own personal struggles and growth, without being too much or too little. Do-san and Ji-pyeong are hilarious together, especially the scene where both are stuck at Dal-mi’s house for dinner. The actors were clearly having a lot of fun with these scenes and while I love them both, I must admit that Kim Seon-ho’s facial expressions were simply unmatched.

The humour is excellent and organic, without dragging you away from the narrative. The Samsan Tech trio are all kinds of goofy and adorkable and their interactions are hilarious, especially in the scenes with the long-suffering Stephanie – enter Resting Bitch Face and Classic Eye Roll. There were some genuinely laugh-out-loud moments, such as the music video CODA acceptance speech that Do-san’s cousin cooks up, which literally had me wiping tears of laughter off my face.

Talking about aesthetics in a K-drama is perhaps a no-brainer, but I would be doing this show a disservice if I did not mention how visually stunning it is. The vibrancy of Sandbox made me wish I worked in a place like that, while hubby’s geeky heart was stolen by Samsan Tech’s ramshackle “office”. The costumes were on point, and I so wanted to steal Dal-mi’s and Stephanie’s business casual looks! Ji-pyeong’s outfits were amazing too, as were his apartment (that view!) and matte black Mercedes. Looking around his house made me feel like Lizzie Bennet at Pemberley…like, what woman in her right mind would refuse a chance to live in that house?! His cuteness and dimples was an advantage, too

Which brings us to the elephant in the room. I had no idea that netizens were SO passionate about who Dal-mi would eventually end up with, some going so far as to actually hate the show because she chose Do-san! While Ji-pyeong was a worthy second lead and one who deserved my empathy, there was no doubt in my mind that Do-san was the right choice. The way he understood, appreciated and supported Dal-mi, the chemistry they shared… Yes, he lied but he sincerely repented for his actions – not just by saying sorry and making us and Dal-mi feel sorry for him – but by owning up to his mistakes and then GIVING DAL-MI THE SPACE SHE NEEDED WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT, and without being a whiny bitch about it. That is a deeply caring, loving and respectful man right there.

I watched Startup pretty early on in my K-drama journey, but now that i’m more of a seasoned viewer, I can understand why there might have been some confusion over Dal-mi choosing Do-san. In most K-dramas, the rules are very clear on who the male lead is and who the second lead is. The male lead is almost always introduced first. Most likely there will be some kind of childhood backstory, making us empathize more and root for him, despite the second lead also being a pretty worthy candidate (in fact, in most K-dramas the second leads are wonderful characters who often get so much fan love they end up being a lead in their next show!).

Of course, Startup turns all these tropes on their head. Going by K-drama rules, Ji-pyeong is the one who is introduced first, the one who gets the biggest and most sympathetic backstory. And then, suddenly, we realize that he is not the one getting the girl! I wonder if I may have felt the same IF I had watched this later on in my K-drama journey, but – as it was I had no preconceived expectations and therefore the romantic conclusion felt very authentic to me.

All in all, Startup is a wonderful, intelligent drama which gets it right on most counts – a strong script, gorgeous actors, heartfelt performances and genuine chemistry. If you are seeking for something that’s pure romantic fluff, you may find yourself disappointed by what you feel is too much focus given to the other aspects of the story. On the other hand, if you are seeking something of substance which is different from your usual, run-of-the-mill love story – something which you may not be able to fit into a neat little box, but at the same time something that’s deeply satisfying and makes you feel good about yourself – then definitely give this one a try. 

 

 

 

 

 

Minerva's Ramblings: The Kings Affection (2021) - part 2

A historical tale of a princess who is forced to take on her dead brother’s identity and falls in love with her tutor sounds just like my cup of tea, yet it reads like any other been there, done that kind of trope already seen in a hundred other romantic historical dramas.

Though on paper the storyline seems hackneyed, there was a freshness here, a magic that I have not experienced in any other movie or series. Part historical romance, part drama, part adventure and part political intrigue – The King’s Affection has it all. While this in itself is nothing special (as any Bollywood fan will tell you), what was so unique to me was how seamlessly these different facets were woven into the overall plot.

This is very difficult to explain in words as it was an almost intangible experience to me as a viewer, but I will try. In most other multi-genre productions, at any given point in time, the romance, for example, will overtake the action (perhaps to draw us closer to the characters) and then later romance will take a backseat as more action is necessary to drive the plot forward. However, with The King’s Affection, never once did I feel like the different genres were competing against each other for space or attention.

I believe one of the reasons for this is the brilliant pacing. The opening scene plunges into the thick of things without wasting time on exposition. This is a wonderful creative choice when done right, however it so often goes horribly wrong, leaving you not caring enough about the characters to want to know what happens next. The King’s Affection gets this perfectly right. I was immediately invested in the tale of the doomed baby princess – all I wanted was to see her safe and wait for the day her evil grandfather would be made to pay for his sins.

But as the story gets into the middle act, things relax, though there is always the sense of dramatic tension as the stakes get higher and higher. Those who just want action, action, action all the time may find these episodes boring or slow, but I loved the opportunity this gave us to see the nuances of each character and each relationship that was being fleshed out onscreen.

The lead characters’ relationships with their fathers were very well depicted, as were the relationships Hwi shared with her maternal grandfather and her wife Queen Ha-Kyung. So was the relationship between Inspector Jung and Commander Yoon, and the flashback scene of them lying in the grass staring at the sky is touchingly beautiful and understated.

At the risk of sounding morbid, I must say that the death scenes were some of the most powerful moments in the story. The deaths of Commander Yoon and Inspector Jung brought tears to my eyes, and I was completely unprepared for the sudden and brutal killing of Prince Gyeom (I really expected that he would take the throne and that Hyun would die).

The pace picks up once more in the final act, towards a perfectly executed climax. It is all too easy for a show like this to have a predictable ending (and it would still have been a great watch). I was waiting for a showdown between Prince Hwi and Lord Sangheon with some kind of epic battle, but instead we got a surprisingly sophisticated and well-executed final episode that had me guessing at every turn. Each time I thought it would swing one way and then it went the other, I was really afraid at one point that our favourite couple would not get their HEA!  

At the beginning of my previous post, I mentioned that I loved almost everything about this series. I had a couple of (very) minor gripes though, with regards to the editing in two specific scenes. Firstly, the death of the Crown Princess Han was very choppy – it was as if an entire scene had been forgotten at the cutting table! I also remember there being another poorly edited scene towards the middle of the series, but I forget which. Other than these two instances, the screenplay was consistently flawless.

Another unique aspect of the storytelling was how the closing scene of an episode was repeated as the opening scene of the next episode, but shot at a slightly different angle, so that we would see the same scenario from multiple perspectives (initially, I thought they were just repeating the identical scene and even skipped the first few seconds!) Very subtly done, but it gave a whole new interpretation to the plot!

I am not an expert on camerawork so won’t get into technicalities here, but the visuals were breathtaking. Each frame was like a painting, a surreal glimpse into a different world. My favourite was the entire forest sequence, where Ji-woon catches sight of Dami for the first time. Their secret garden, which basically symbolizes the purity and innocence of their love despite the madness of the world around them, was also beautifully shot.

I am also not well-versed in Korean period fashion so while I cannot comment on their historical accuracy, the costumes were simply stunning. I read somewhere that one of the reasons Park Eun-bin took on the role was because she got the opportunity to wear dragon robes. I can totally understand:

The costumes worn by Queen Ha-Kyung and Shin So-Eun were so colourful and pretty, especially the floral hair accessories. I like how they were dressed so feminine and dainty, in direct contrast to Dami, and how this was tied into the overall plot. She yearns for beautiful trinkets herself, and what she wants most from Ji-woon is a hair clip. 

The show also boasted some of the most gorgeous head gear seen in a historical drama, and I think only Korean actors can pull them off:

Rowoon himself would look good in anything, but this blue outfit in the scene where Dami reveals her secret is definitely my favourite look:

Finally, it would be an injustice if I did not speak about the music. The background score as well as the original soundtrack (OST) are out of this world. I have not heard any Korean music before, but now I find myself listening to these songs on loop, they are so gorgeous! (In fact, this is how I got to know the term “OST”) Love them all, but my favourites are “Shadow of You”, “One and Only”, “If I”, “Hide and Seek” and of course, “No Goodbye in Love”.  

I apologize for the super lengthy posts – in fact this is the first time I have written two posts on a single topic – but it was the only way could truly express what a unique experience watching this show was to me! I really hope you enjoyed reading these as much as I enjoyed writing them!

 

Minerva's Ramblings: The Kings Affection (2021) - part 1

Move aside, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Thornton – Jung Ji-woon just stole my heart as one of my favourite romantic heroes of all time. It simply mystifies me – why has a character like this never been written before?

Takes a deep breath, because…first things first. I have never been into Korean entertainment, despite it being hugely popular in my country. My exposure has been pretty much limited to a couple of movies (Parasite, Okja), and the K-drama My Love from the Stars, a cheesy feel-good soap I watched on TV a few years ago for want of anything better to do.

 Then I stumbled across a Facebook post where someone gushed about The King’s Affection and decided to check it out. Surprise – the story hooked me completely from the get-go and drew me into an alternate universe I didn’t want to leave for the next 20 episodes.

Where do I even start? I loved almost every single thing about this series. The storyline. The plot. The casting. The acting. The visuals. The costumes. The soundtrack.

In this post, I will discuss the casting and characterization, while the next post will focus on the storyline and visual impact of the show. The lead pair were magnificent, and their chemistry was out of this world. What I loved most about the romance was how it took all gender stereotypes and turned them on their head, without ever trying to be woke.

I have seen many, many shows where a woman is disguised as a man (who hasn’t?) but never anything quite like this. Park Eun-bin is such a delicate flower-like beauty, and casting her in the role of Prince Lee Hwi was a bold move. How could she convincingly play a man? I am glad they went with her, though, because it worked so well with the overall plot. Instead of going overboard to make her look more “manly” (facial hair at the very least!), Prince Hwi is consistently portrayed as a somewhat androgynous looking, “beautiful” man. Nevertheless, this is not to be confused with what is commonly considered effeminate (though I myself dislike the use of that word). Hwi is the furthest from a wimp you could imagine. He is noble, skilled, and brave, has integrity, intelligence, and determination. He faces every challenge head-on, even when advised otherwise – but is never foolhardy. I cheered each time he drew out his sword and stood his ground, holding his own against his foes. When he returns to the palace after the King’s death and decides to stay on, I was crushed (girl, you crazy?? Run away with Ji-woon this instant! Go live in the forest! At least till they find you again!) but it was definitely keeping in character – we see his heartbreak and internal struggle, but ultimately, he chooses to protect his people.

And yet (being a woman), she is physically weaker than the average man. Sometimes, her skill is enough to make up for it; sometimes, it isn’t. I love how the show isn’t afraid to veer in this direction, without falling prey to the damsel-in-distress trope. Some of the most magical moments in the story are when she is protected by the men around her who care – Ji-woon spinning her around to avoid the falling teapot; Lee Hyun protecting her identity just in time as the washerwoman throws the bucket of water in their direction; Kim Ga-on taking the fall as the Chief Eunuch’s warrior slashes at her with his sword.

Also (being a human) there are times she needs emotional support. Her support system consists of a loyal group of friends/ subjects – Lee Hyun, Court Lady Kim, Eunuch Hong, Kim Ga-on, Commander Yoon. Each of these characters is distinctively fleshed out, and her dynamic with each of them is different and special. And they are mutually supportive relationships – for all they do to support and protect Hwi, we are also shown her love for them in turn, sometimes sacrificing her safety for theirs without a second thought. 

Next we come to Jung Ji-woon, played by Rowoon. I will try to keep this as objective as I can but forgive me if my inner fangirl refuses to be still! My taste in men has always been for the more mature hyper-masculine types rather than the cute boys – think Hugh Jackman, Richard Armitage, Gerard Butler. But damn…Rowoon had me smitten! That flawless complexion, that bone structure, and a smile that can light up a room…

Ok now let’s focus. While the actor is indeed one of the most beautiful specimens of humanity I have ever seen, it is the character itself (and the way he plays it, of course!) which really tip the scales in his favour. Simply put, he is perhaps the most complex romantic hero I have seen onscreen. He is handsome, brave, intelligent, witty, loyal, and madly in love – all typical traits of a male romantic lead. But he is more than that. In the first flush of love, he wears a daisy in his hair and prances about like a giddy schoolgirl. One of my favourite scenes is when Hwi catches him as he stumbles backwards into a pond. There are also several instances where he breaks down completely, as Hwi remains calm and collected.

To our cultural sensibilities, these are not typically traits associated with a romantic hero – they would make him less “masculine”, less “alpha”. In western or Bollywood films, for instance, such scenes may be used tongue-in-cheek to poke fun at various side characters. This was the first time I had ever seen a male lead behaving this way – but by no means did this reduce the attractiveness of the character (quite the opposite, in fact).

Ji-woon confesses his love for the Crown Prince before his gender is revealed. After all that angst, I was looking forward to the scene but was almost afraid I wouldn’t take too warmly to its execution. I was wrong. That scene has got to be, hands down, one of the most romantic onscreen declarations of love ever. In that moment, we realize that what we think is important isn’t really so when it comes to matters of the heart. Ji-woon is simply someone utterly and absolutely in love – nothing more, nothing less.    

Ji-woon is the ultimate romantic hero. He is selflessly courageous. He stands by his friends and family at the risk of his own life. His love and loyalty towards Dami is steadfast and unconditional and never wavers even for a second. He is always by her side no matter what and would willingly die for her. He is a skilled fighter and can hold his own even when outnumbered. If these are not qualities of an alpha male, then I don’t know what are.    

Just as the lead characters steal the show, a production of this magnitude would not work without a vibrant supporting cast. The casting is thoughtfully done and the acting from everyone is top-notch. Lee Hyun was by far my favourite. There is a sincerity and openness about him but also a guardedness that doesn’t let anyone come too close, and Nam Yoon-su played the character to perfection. I particularly loved the scene where he gives the jade ring to Hwi in the market – no words are spoken but we see all his pain in his eyes.

Inspector Jung was another favourite. His character arc is phenomenal. He is not a cruel man; he is not motivated by power or greed. He is motivated purely by his deep, deep love for his son, and it is the one constant in his life, even as things worsen and the situation spirals beyond his control. We see his increasing disgust at himself as he commits each atrocity, yet he remains remorseless, relentless, knowing it is the price he must pay for the choices he made. We cannot help but be moved at his death, but we know he is gone far beyond redemption.

The King and Queen (Hwi’s parents) could have easily been mere caricatures, but they are complex characters with shades of grey. I hated the King for much of the story, even more so than the evil grandfather, perhaps. He literally does nothing to save his own child from death. But as the story progressed, I grew to understand him more. He is an idealist, and wants to be a benevolent ruler. He has a greater vision for his country. To transform things, however, within the strict and archaic moral codes that prevail, he and his court must remain without even a hint of scandal or controversy. We understand his motivations and struggle; but like the Inspector’s, his sins too are too great to forgive.  

The Crown Princess Han herself is not the stereotypical tragic self-sacrificial mother. While certainly a sympathetic figure, she performs a single act of deliberate, unspeakable cruelty that to me was one of the most shocking scenes in the show. I felt it almost an unnecessary scene – almost, but not quite, because it helps us appreciate even more how Hwi/ Dami has grown into her own person, with her own conscience and sense of what it means to be a just and fair ruler.

Quick shoutout to the young actors who play the childhood versions of the two leads. Choi Myung Bin, in particular, was brilliantly cast as the young Hwi/ Dami. I had to Google to find out if it was a girl playing a boy or vice versa, she was that convincing! The young Ji-woon too was so adorable you couldn’t help but fall in love with him.

Great characters are nothing without a compelling story. Read the next post to find out what made the plot of The King’s Affection so special. 

Minerva's Ramblings: The Phantom of the Opera at the Royal Albert Hall (2011)

 

My introduction to The Phantom of the Opera was through the 2004 Joel Schumacher film many years ago. I liked it a lot, both for the storyline as well as for the beautiful music. In fact, I liked some of the songs so much that, several years later I started looking them up on YouTube. In the process, I stumbled upon Sierra Boggess, Ramin Karimloo and the amazing 25^th anniversary performance staged at London’s Royal Albert Hall in 2011.

Since then I have become a total Phantom and Rierra fan, having watched countless performances online and read a shameless amount of Phan-fic. I have also had the pleasure of attending a local production of the musical, which I enjoyed very much. And finally, finally, I was fortunate enough to get to see the recording of the full 25^th anniversary show with the dream cast that was released recently on YouTube. One of the few good things during this pandemic is that “The Show Must Go On” has brought many of our favourite musicals to YouTube, making it possible for theatre lovers around the world to experience the next best thing to watching a live performance on Broadway or the West End.   

This was my first time watching a recording of a full performance that was specially filmed for DVD. Combining the drama of the stage with the subtlety of film, the experience was quite unlike anything I had seen before. It had all the “feels” of the stage (nothing can beat being there, but it is the next best thing!) – the spontaneity of each moment, the authenticity of each emotion and the complete immersion in the action as events unfold right before your eyes. At the same time, every little gesture and facial expression was beautifully captured, thanks to the closeup shots and different camera angles.

I am not an expert on theatre or music – far from it! But as an ardent fan, there are so many things I loved about this performance and I want to share a few of them with you.

Ramin Karimloo as the Phantom – insane, terrifying and completely human

What can I say that would do justice to his performance? It is incredible to me how a man as gorgeous as that can play such a physically deformed character so convincingly. Yet despite his outward repulsiveness, Ramin’s Phantom is not some sniveling, pathetic creature. Mask on, he exudes a dark and powerful beauty that transcends physical appearance. As he sings, “Come to me, Angel of Music” we, along with Christine, are lured into his enchanting world of smoke and mirrors. His allure as the Phantom is evident, but I love how this is achieved not by making him a “hot Phantom” with a scar (which they could have done very easily, I mean it must take real effort to make Ramin ugly!) Rather his Phantom, unmasked, is truly terrible to look at…and it is his air of confidence, power and mystery along with his angelic voice that makes him attractive. 

Given that much of the character’s face is covered by a mask and the rest disfigured by prosthetics, the use of voice to convey emotion can be the make or break of a successful Phantom performance. Perhaps there are other Phantoms who sing “better” – i.e. with greater technical precision – yet I cannot fathom anyone else being able to pour such raw feeling into their voice as Ramin. In “Music of the Night” we feel his pain and passion – he is gently pleading, seductively persuasive, hopelessly desperate and yes, dangerously obsessed. He swings from mood to mood in a way that is both terrifying and utterly believable. Ramin’s Phantom is an insane psychopath who never loses his humanity. We love him, pity him and fear him, often at the same time.

Sierra Boggess as Christine – not another damsel in distress

Sierra’s powerful acting transforms Christine into a fully developed, empathetic character. Her emotions are intense and genuine, and we feel every one of them. We are nervous when she gives her first solo in “Think of Me”; we are drawn to the Phantom when he serenades her with “Music of the Night”; and our hearts break when she leaves him in the end. Sierra is a stunner, but it isn’t her beauty alone that makes her so captivating. Her expressive face draws us in at every step, leaving us mesmerized. And it is wonderful that, thanks to the closeups, we are able to see each nuance that we would otherwise miss in a stage performance.

And that voice. Seriously, she sounds like an angel. And she doesn’t just sing – she acts with her voice. Eyes closed even, you feel her excitement in “Think of Me” and her happiness in “All I Ask of You”. Her “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” is considered THE definitive version, and I can understand why – it moved me to tears. I know the highlight of Christine’s voice is supposed to be that infamous E6 at the end of the title song (and Sierra nails it), but it is when she sings – “The tears I might have shed for your dark fate/ Grow cold, and turn to tears of hate” – that I got goosebumps.

Hadley Fraser as Raoul – sincere, loyal and brave, if a little prone to tantrums

As a Rierra fan, I have been guilty of focusing on Erik and Christine, and not giving a damn about “that guy who plays Raoul”. While I believe this was a mistake on my part, one good thing did come of it – I was more than pleasantly surprised by Hadley! Which is awesome, because…let’s face it – sure, the Phantom can sing from inside a mirror deserves your sympathy, but he is also manipulative, obsessive, violent and a murderer. While it is up to the actor playing Erik to bring these out without turning him into a cartoonish monster, it also helps tremendously when the actor playing Raoul doesn’t play him like an ass or wimp. Hadley’s Raoul is brave, sincere and kind, and what’s most important, truly loves Christine and does not just want to own her as a trophy wife. He does, however, have a possessive streak and a tendency to lose his cool at every opportunity, which, while being annoying traits also helps keep things real, and prevents Raoul from being an unbearably perfect Prince Charming.

 Hadley is also a powerful and charismatic singer, though in a very different way from Ramin’s Phantom. Where Erik’s voice can be hypnotic and unearthly, Raoul often sounds matter of fact, very much grounded in reality. I loved how this contrast is maintained throughout the musical, without being overplayed.

The chemistry – intense and electrifying

While each of the leads give excellent individual performances, it is the synergy they create when they come together on stage that is truly incredible. There are entire fan sites dedicated to Rierra and this isn’t surprising at all! The chemistry they share is pure magic…and nowhere is this more evident than in “Music of the Night”. Their facial expressions and body language are so in sync with one another that, though we know these are stage directions, it is hard to imagine that there isn’t an invisible chord binding their souls together. What is even more amazing is that all this happens without her uttering a single word.

Sierra and Hadley also share great chemistry, the sweetness of the romance between their characters acting as a foil to the dark and passionate bond between Christine and Erik. I know many fans believe that Christine’s true love is Erik and she should have ended up with him. As much as I love the Phantom (and Ramin, of course!) watching the musical made me realize what a disaster this would have been. Christine has lived much of her life under some shadow or the other – whether it be the death of her beloved father, or the mind fuckery she is subjected to by the Phantom, claiming to have been an angel sent by him. She has never really had the chance to heal from her sorrow, or to learn from her pain. Literally the last thing Christine needs in her life is more darkness and melodrama.  While it is doubtful that theirs is a perfect relationship (they are from different worlds, after all, and will have a heap of adjusting to do), Raoul does offer Christine the stability of a secure, healthy, normal relationship, that gives her the space to grow into her own person – and isn’t that great?

The three of them together feed off each other’s energy in scenes like “Wandering Child” and the “Final Lair”. “Wandering Child” is a powerful, underrated song that perfectly captures the dynamic among Christine, Erik and Raoul – and Sierra, Ramin and Hadley perform it so well. As for “Final Lair”, that has got to be the favourite scene of many, myself included. It is the highlight of the musical where the acting, singing, music and lyrics all come together to deliver a punch to the gut that just cannot be described in words. Be warned – tissues are needed!

And lastly, the music – haunting, surreal, unforgettable

While we can all agree that everything about Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom of the Opera is pure genius, there is something about its music that elevates it to the next level. Starting from the overture which is guaranteed to give you chills from the get-go, the entire score is a perfect 10. It’s interesting how when I was first introduced to the film as a teenager, the song I liked most was “All I Ask of You”; now, while I love them all, the ones I can’t get enough of include “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again”, “Music of the Night” and “Angel of Music”.

And of course, the title song. With its hypnotic music, haunting melody and lyrics and sung by two of the most beautiful voices on earth, “Phantom of the Opera” is an eargasmic experience that cannot be rivalled (I was waiting for Ramin’s “strong-ER” but it never came!). Even my husband, who listens to stuff by bands with names like Cradle of Filth and Five Finger Death Punch and would not be caught dead watching a Broadway musical, found himself fascinated by this song.

 

This post is already so freaking long that in conclusion I would like to say – nothing, except that hopefully, someday, the world will be normal once more and we (some of us, at least) we will be able to see a Phantom production live on stage. And until then, thank you, thank you for the music, always, and the joy it brings us all. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minerva's Ramblings: Favourite Romantic Heroes from Classic Literature

Sometime back I wrote a review of North and South, where I mentioned a few of my favourite romantic heroes from classic literature. Turned out I am not the only one falling in love with fictional characters! And so, for all my soul sisters out there, here are the ones closest to my heart.

First, a few rules –

Rule #1. I have stated my favourites strictly in terms of how ideal I think they are as romantic partners. These are different from my favourite literary characters in general. For instance, I think Heathcliff, Rochester and Rhett Butler are among the best written male characters of all time – incredibly complex and completely human. Yet, I would argue that they can be pretty toxic in terms of relationship material.

Rule #2. I have restricted myself to just one character per author, regardless of how delicious the author’s other leading men are (I have no idea why I decided to torture myself this way. Maybe because otherwise, this post may never end).

Rule #3. While some of the television/ movie versions of these characters have certainly gained a lot of popularity, my choices are based strictly on the original book versions.  

Ok so here goes! In no particular order:

John Thornton – North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell

"Oh! Margaret, could you not have loved me? I am but uncouth and hard, but I would never have led you into any falsehood for me."

Richard Armitage as John Thornton in the 2004 BBC mini-series

Clearly, this should come as no surprise. I am definitely partial to the strong, silent type, but John Thornton is so much more. A self-made man with a strong moral code, he is a just employer, caring son, dutiful brother and responsible citizen. What’s more, his harsh early life and the fact that he is required to maintain a no-nonsense attitude in his dealings with people haven’t really rid him of his softer, more humane side. While Margaret is entirely prejudiced and therefore unable to see this at first, readers are quickly warmed to this gentle, honest soul for his exceptional qualities. His admiration for Mr. Hale, despite not agreeing with his worldview, is sincere; he treats his somewhat cantankerous mother with utmost tenderness and his insufferable sister with patience; he goes out of his way to procure exotic fruit for a dying woman whose daughter has just broken his heart.

All this without even coming to his love for Margaret. I am someone who strongly believes that a shitty person, however ardently he professes his love for a woman, can never qualify as a romantic ideal because one fine day when the romance wears thin, he is going to end up being a shitty lover and husband. On the other hand, characters like Thornton are portrayed as such beautiful, though flawed, persons in their own right, that you are left with absolutely no doubt of the depth and sincerity of their love for the heroine. 

Thornton’s passionate, unconditional love for Margaret is the stuff of dreams. His reaction to his mother’s claim after the riot that Margaret is obviously in love with him – hence, why she shielded him from the mob – is heartbreakingly innocent and pure - "I dare not hope. I never was fainthearted before; but I cannot believe such a creature cares for me." Once rejected, he resolves to keep on loving her, though he knows it will bring him pain. He does everything for her well-being and happiness; offering her silent comfort at her mother’s death, and pledging his faith in her character at the risk of his own integrity.

And who can forget that very last scene, when he finally realizes she loves him back - 

"Take care - if you do not speak - I shall claim you as my own in some strange presumptuous way - send me away at once, if |I must go..." Whoever thought grabbing a woman by her hair and forcing a kiss on her lips as she struggles to escape is romantic, needs to learn a thing or two about consent from John Thornton.

Of course, she doesn't let him go! Who would?

Colonel Brandon – Sense and Sensibility, Jane Austen

Colonel Brandon alone, of all the party, heard her without being in raptures. He paid her only the compliment of attention.

David Morrissey as Colonel Brandon in the 2008 BBC mini-series

To everyone going “Whaaaaaaaaaattttt! Picking Brandon over Darcy?” I must confess that, after much painful deliberation among Mr. Darcy, Captain Wentworth and Colonel Brandon, I finally decided upon the good old Colonel.

Wait, what? Old??

I have often felt that Brandon is unfairly sidelined by many Austen fans, and I can think of two possible reasons why. One – while Austen makes Brandon’s feelings for Marianne very clear, we are not privy to Marianne’s feelings about Brandon. In contrast to her overflowing passion for Willoughby, the details of Marianne’s love and subsequent marriage to Brandon are glossed over in a few sentences, literally in the final passages of the book. This may give some readers the impression that theirs is not an ideal romantic pairing.

Two – Alan Rickman.

If you are still reading this, please bear with me. While I think this incredibly talented actor (and his voice!) was one of the most gorgeous specimens of humanity (what is it with me and British accents?), I believe he was somewhat miscast in the 1995 movie. Marianne certainly is very young; but Brandon himself is a desirable counterpart well within his prime. At 35, he is just a few years older than the sexy Captain Wentworth, whom fangirls gush over constantly…in fact, he is even younger than Mr. Knightley, another favourite Austen hero of many! At the time of the movie Mr. Rickman was not, neither did he look, anywhere close to 35.

However, if you are familiar with Austen’s use of irony, it is obvious that she doesn’t really mean Brandon is a consolation prize. Nor does she hint that ending up with him is a sort of “punishment” for Marianne’s “inappropriate” relationship with Willoughby, as some of the movie’s reviewers have theorized!

Austen’s Brandon is brave, honourable, respectful and considerate. Like Thornton, it is not only his relationship with Marianne, but his interactions with others is very telling of his own character. In this regard, he gets the edge over Darcy and Wentworth in my book, simply because he is a genuinely nicer person. He is a loyal friend to John Middleton. He is kind to Mrs. Jennings. He stays true to his first love, taking care of her when she is destitute and adopting her daughter as his ward. This is particularly remarkable given how “ruined women” and illegitimate children were viewed at the time. And I love his relationship with Elinor, and the mutual respect they have for one another.

Brandon’s love for Marianne is selfless. Rather than trying to possess her or win her over with grand romantic gestures, he simply remains a true friend who holds her happiness close to his heart. As Marianne matures over the course of the novel, she grows to admire his qualities and appreciate his quiet faithfulness, and eventually this turns to love. Theirs is a love borne of respect and friendship, and therefore is the truest kind of love.  

Gabriel Oak – Far from the Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy

"I shall do one thing in this life - one thing certain - that is, love you, and long for you, and KEEP WANTING YOU till I die."

Matthias Schoenaerts as Gabriel Oak in the 2015 film

Describing Gabriel Oak as a “hero” is misleading, since he is about as average as you can imagine. He is neither particularly good looking nor charismatic; he does not perform any feats of valour to impress Bathsheba. In fact, for much of the story he is almost an afterthought, fading into the background. Nothing of interest ever happens to him; it is Bathsheba who runs around getting into all kinds of interesting situations while he stands back, a silent observer (well, most of the time, at least).

It is interesting how such a passively written character could also be such a complex one. I believe that what is so special about Oak is the dynamic he shares with Bathsheba. There are many instances where authors have successfully captured the romantic or sexual chemistry between characters; however, it is very rare that a deep platonic relationship such as Oak and Bathsheba’s can be portrayed so believably as Hardy does in his novel. While the limelight is often stolen by Troy and Boldwood, Oak’s rivals in love, it is to him that Bathsheba turns to for support, be it regarding her love life or her managing her farm. And, instead of the usual romantic novel trope where the hero saves the heroine from some major catastrophe or danger, I love that what Oak most often offers is merely sensible, unbiased, honest-to-goodness advice, whenever Bathsheba needs it (and sometimes when she doesn’t – hey the guy does have his faults).

Oak is extremely self-aware. He acknowledges his deep, unrequited love for Bathsheba, yet he does not allow himself to be defined by it. He moves on with his life, works hard, treats people well and earns their admiration and respect for his intelligence and integrity, to the extent that even his rivals turn to him for advice! He is no wimp, either – he never lets Bathsheba play around with his feelings or manipulate him into getting what she wants. The advice he offers is always brutally honest and with her interest at heart, though he knows he might lose out. With Troy, he pleads with her to be cautious and untrusting, at the risk of coming across as a jealous lover; with Boldwood, however, he urges her to marry him, knowing he would make her a good husband.

Like Brandon and Thornton, Oak too has a heart of gold. He empathizes with Boldwood, and tries to help him; he does everything he can to save Fanny. Of course, he is ultimately rewarded for his patience and faithfulness, finally winning Bathsheba’s heart. In classic Oak style, however, he refuses to fall over at her feet, whereby she is compelled to come “courting him”, to which he responds what we have been thinking all along - "I've danced at your skittish heels, my beautiful Bathsheba, for many a long mile, and many a long day; and it is hard to begrudge me this one visit."

Minerva's Ramblings: Rebecca (2020)

 

When I heard Netflix was releasing a new Rebecca, I was thrilled and couldn’t wait to watch it. Then I saw the trailer, and my first impression was, oh god, the casting is all wrong. It is not that I dislike any of the actors – far from it. Lily James is a pretty good actress and Armie Hammer can be reasonably charming when he wants (and I think Kristen Scott Thomas is simply fabulous, but more on that later), but the lead pair were nothing like the book’s protagonists, either as individual characters or their dynamic as a couple.

One of the book’s major themes is the glaring incongruity between the two main characters, to such an extent it makes both the readers as well as the other characters, quite uncomfortable and more than a little mystified to see them together. In fact, this premise forms the crux of the entire plot. The new Mrs. de Winter (never named) is little more than a child. She is timid and inexperienced. She is a wallflower, and her lack of presence stems not so much from being inherently unattractive, but rather because she is at that awkward halfway stage in life, neither sufficiently childlike to be cute, nor yet woman enough to be noticed, either for her looks or her personality. Lily James, while young-looking is not schoolgirl young-looking, and while the movie doesn’t portray her as a raving beauty, it is entirely plausible to imagine that there are men who would find her attractive enough to fall in love with and to marry. I believe her constant jumping around and general skittishness throughout the movie are meant to make her more true-to-form, but without the physical appearance to go with it, her character’s actions lack motive and just make her look neurotic.

As for Maxim de Winter, he is a 42-year-old, suave, polished, man-of-the-world with an air of romantic mystery and a streak of – what? Cruelty? Sadism? Or is he simply a cold-hearted bastard? We read on, because we want to find out. In contrast, Armie Hammer comes off as your typical rom-com hero. Sure, he is a bit moody at times (his wife died a year ago, let’s cut him some slack!), but nothing a seaside drive and some sex on the beach cannot cure. Hammer’s Mr. de Winter is clearly enamoured by James’ Mrs. de Winter right from the start – so there is none of the “does he love her? What’s his deal?” sexual tension that is felt by readers and Mrs. de Winter alike throughout the book.

And with regards to the conspicuous age difference emphasized in the book – nothing. Now I understand that sanitizing and “normalizing” the entire relationship dynamic was probably a deliberate choice by the director to prevent viewers getting too disturbed – brooding middle-aged billionaire marries destitute teenager and treats her like shit is probably not your average movie-goer’s cup of tea – but the whole point of Rebecca is to unsettle readers, foreshadow like hell create tension and make them sit around nervously waiting for things to get progressively worse. Conversely, there is zero tension created in this adaptation, and whatever disagreements there are between the lead pair come across as petty bickering by your average couple over random issues.

I have not seen the classic Hitchcock version, but from what I read about it (and have seen from his other films) its forte is the atmospheric tension that is created, whether by use of light and shadow, claustrophobic imagery or melodramatic performances. I feel like in trying to get as far away from that film as possible, Ben Wheatley creates a more normal world with normal people who act, well, a lot more normally.

And that is a pity, because a normal Rebecca is no different from your normal daytime soap drama. What makes the book (I will not comment on Hitchcock as I have not seen it) a masterpiece is that everything about it is so freakishly abnormal (it is a Gothic romance/ thriller, for crying out loud!) – starting from the relationship between the de Winters, to the forbidding Manderley estate, to the ever-present yet elusive titular character, to the delightfully ghoulish housekeeper.

Ahhhh…something I enjoyed about the movie that I can finally sink my teeth into. Ms. Thomas never disappoints, and her take on the perfectly respectable, alarmingly efficient and fiendishly creepy housekeeper descending surely into madness was a delight to watch unfold. Unfortunately, in a completely normal movie with completely normal characters this whole act is somewhat out of place, and you never quite feel that sense of panic and encroaching terror as you look on with revulsion and a certain morbid relish as Rebecca (and Rebecca) closes in on you, egged on by the relentless Mrs. Danvers. 

Rebecca herself is the central character in the book. She is whom the book is named after; she is the mystery that, along with the nameless second Mrs. de Winter, we crack our brains to solve. We, along with Mrs. de Winter, are in turn awed, fascinated and repulsed by her. We hate her. We fear her. We wish we were her, with her adoring minions and her fuck-all attitude to life. How du Maurier manages to make us feel such a visceral connection to what is, technically, not even a ghost but simply a figment of imagination (Mrs. de Winter’s) and a memory (everyone else’s) is testament to the brilliance of her writing. The movie, on the other hand, never really concerns itself with who Rebecca is – is she a ghost? Is she dead? Is she alive? What does she want? The movie never raises these questions, and we never really care (neither does Mrs. de Winter, it would seem).

Without this, whatever remaining potential the movie has for dramatic tension, simply flies out the window. We are just watching an oversized, over-decorated mansion full of servants ruled by a manic housekeeper who in turn has to suffer the antics of a neurotic (with no reason to be) young woman who just so happens to be married to Mr. California with bad British accent a 1930s poster boy.

Before I dig myself in even deeper, however, let me touch upon a few general points I did like about this movie. The visuals are gorgeous, particularly in the earlier shots, where the South of France is depicted in all its lush, romantic glory. While I would have liked a more overtly gothic feel to the Manderley estate, based on the mood the director was going for (most definitely not gothic) the mansion was faithfully presented, and managed to look sufficiently grand and imposing. I also thought the costumes were beautifully done, apart from that unforgivable mustard suit, which gives us our first impression of the hapless Mr. de Winter.

Now that that’s done, all that remains is the ridiculous long-drawn-out ending, which was about as entertaining (and painful) as shaving my legs. The big reveal where we finally realize what a cruel, manipulative bitch Rebecca really was and that Maxim never loved her, hated her guts, in fact, is a HUGE moment in the book, for us as well as Mrs. de Winter herself. Along with her, we are relieved to learn that all along Maxim has been haunted and tortured by the memory of Rebecca, which is why he has been acting like a dick all this time, not because he is a dick in general. Now that he is “free” of her memory and the guilt of it all (wait, what?), he is free to love his new little wife in the way she truly deserves. We shed a collective tear of happiness and go “awwwww” (that he killed his supposedly pregnant wife and then buried her at sea is merely a plot point of minor inconvenience we love to forget as hastily as the new Mrs. de Winter).

This is, in my opinion, one of the most momentous reveals in classic literature, not just because of what is revealed, but rather more because of how it makes us feel as readers and in turn what that makes us, as humans – are we truly so blinded by the glamour of a pretty romance that we are willing to forgive our protagonist of murder? Where is our moral code? (And shockingly, where is Mrs. de Winters’?). Du Maurier forces us to look inwards, to ask ourselves these deeply disturbing questions, even as we rejoice at Maxim and his wife riding off into the sunset. The book, mercilessly, leaves us with zero closure – Maxim’s beloved Manderley, the pride of his heart, is burned to ashes, Mrs. Danvers is nowhere to be found and all we are left with are the haunting words of the Mrs. de Winter the Second, "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." We have no idea where the de Winters go from here, only that they can never go home.

The climactic scene in the movie, however, is about as flat as week-old Coke and, rather than the disturbing anti-heroic killer Maxim reveals himself to be, Armie Hammer comes off as a whiny wimp, which is a considerable feat given that he has just confessed to have murdered his wife and what he thinks is her unborn baby. 

As if suddenly realizing its viewers could care less about anything by this point, the movie then decides to go off on a tangent to compensate for all this lack of. What follows is a bewildering and ultimately pointless chase scene in which Lily James mysteriously transmorphs into Nancy Drew. To add to it, she and Mrs. Danvers have a seaside face-off, culminating in Mrs. Danvers' graceful descent into the sea, a scene worthy of giving Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon a run for its money. 

In the closing scene, we are treated to a glimpse into the life of the happy, loving couple presumably enjoying their travels around the world, now that Manderley is no more. A pretty little ending tied up with a pretty little bow, yet the sadist in me somehow longed for the richly textured ambiguity of du Maurier's book, that makes it probably one of the most haunting and disturbing reads of all time.  

Minerva's Ramblings: The Secret in Their Eyes (2009)

 

Foreign language films are not really my thing. I find that focusing too much on reading subtitles distracts me from actually watching and enjoying the film (Hindi films are the exception because I actually understand the language to the point that I don’t need subtitles). Of course, this aversion means I sometimes miss out on absolute gems, like the 2009 Academy-award winning Argentine crime drama, The Secret in Their Eyes. However, given that this was a mystery/ thriller and had rave reviews on IMDB (not always what I go by!), I was intrigued enough to want to watch it.

What first drew me in were the lead actors, and how ridiculously good they were in portraying their characters. I think the fact that I had no clue who they were, also helped. I was not watching Ricardo Darin and Soledad Villamil performing on screen – I was watching Benjamin Esposito and his boss Irene (might I add, the most beautiful pronunciation of the name imaginable) working to solve a brutal murder and falling painfully in love with each other in the process.

The murder scene is shown early on, with very little build up and hit me right in the gut with its matter of fact brutality. This is something that is not usual in Hollywood or Bollywood movies, which generally rely on creating atmospheric tension to deliberately shock audiences out of their comfort zones. The director of this film, on the other hand, makes no special effort to dramatize anything (there is no background music for most of the film) – one minute, you are drinking coffee and eating doughnuts, the next you are witnessing the mutilated naked body of a murdered woman and then right after you go back to your coffee and doughnuts. It is surreal and real at the same time, a bit like real life, you know? Disturbing, no doubt, but you cannot afford to dwell on it, because life just goes on.

It is an old photograph that draws Esposito’s attention in a new direction, and for some strange reason this gave me vibes of an Agatha Christie masterpiece, “Five Little Pigs”. For a wild moment the thought popped into my head that perhaps that was where this film was going…but no, the plot is far less convoluted than that.

The take in this film is that each of us has one great passion in life…the thing that drives us, and what we keep coming back to, no matter what. It could easily have become melodramatic slush, but it doesn’t – in fact, what this passion is, for each of the characters, remains beautifully ambiguous – it is not necessarily what we, or even the character, perhaps, may think it is.

Gomez’s passion, for instance, could very well be either football or Liliana. If, as Esposito’s assistant Sandoval claims, it is football that he cannot help returning to, despite changing everything else about his life – then what drives him to kill Liliana? Could it be that he has two passions?

But no, that would make for a very inconsistent film…and this film is consistent, if anything. For Ricardo, on the other hand, it is very clearly established that his passion is Liliana – 25 years after the murder of his wife, he is still unable to let her go.

And for Esposito?

While primarily a crime drama, the chemistry between Esposito and Irene is just magnetic, on par with some of the iconic romantic pairings seen on screen. Though the romance never overtakes the mystery, it does form the backbone of the story, so to speak, upon which characters are shaped, choices made, and emotions felt.

Esposito is such a likable person, and I feel this is as much to do with the writing of the character as with the innate charm of the actor himself. You simply cannot help but fall in love with him, and wonder what in the world Irene sees in the hapless Alfonso (who thankfully remains off-screen). On the face of it, Irene is leagues ahead – she is stunningly beautiful, poised and eloquent while he is average-looking and socially awkward. He is at least 10 years her senior. She is also his boss. I love how bold the film is, casting a male hero who is obviously so much older and physically less attractive than his female counterpart (I am referring to the characters here, not the actors themselves) – and then making it so you actually root for him to succeed. In lesser hands, Esposito would have come across as a creep. But it is the simplicity and sincerity of their mutual love and respect for each other, devoid of any pretentious play-acting, that make us feel like they belong together.

So what is Esposito’s passion? Is it Irene?

Or is it the case? Just like Ricardo Morales, even 25 years later the case continues to haunt Esposito. He starts writing a book on it, but ironically, the first thing that comes to his mind when reminiscing is not the case itself but his relationship with Irene. The case matters so much because it is a reflection of their bond, and how it evolved through their interaction over the case.

It is this theme of passion that is the key to the entire mystery. Esposito starts off in fear – not of the case itself, but of what it would cost him to revisit it – and ends up fearlessly admitting (and, one hopes, professing) his love for Irene. Interestingly, it is “closing” the case which ultimately gives him the closure to do so, which means that by the end of the movie, the case has taken on an almost MacGuffin-like quality, being the catalyst that allows both Esposito and Irene to comes to terms with a reality they have been denying themselves for 25 years.

Can I sidetrack for a minute to remark on the stunning hair and makeup on the lead characters, aging them so believably? In real life, both Darin and Villamil have an age gap of 12 years, similar to how they are portrayed on screen, and seem to be around midway between the ages of their younger and older characters. At the time of the movie Darin was 52, while the younger Esposito may have been 40 and the older, newly retired Esposito around 65. Villamil was 40 during the movie, while the younger Irene may have been 30 and the older Irene around 55. Not only is this super attention-to-detail casting, but it is extremely challenging to convincingly age someone from 30 to 55 – especially a woman – since the physical changes between those years tend be definitive but subtle – a certain hardness to the features, changes in skin texture. Merely adding a grey wig and some wrinkles isn’t going to cut it. Select a 40-year-old actress and this becomes even more difficult, since most women at that age are essentially timeless – they could as easily pass for 30 as for 50.

Getting back to the plot. Once we establish that Esposito’s passion is Irene, this leads us to even stranger conclusions. What of the eerie similarity between the photographs of Gomez staring at Liliana and Esposito staring at Irene? Why even show them unless there is some meaning, some purpose to this parallel? Clearly, Gomez is as obsessed with Liliana as Esposito is with Irene.

As the movie progressed, I knew that clearly, there had to be something beyond the obvious being shown to us on screen. Strains of unreliable narrative tease us throughout the screenplay, and while the climax at face value is twisted enough in itself, it begs the question – given that Gomez and Liliana were already having an affair (and the movie never tries to convince us otherwise) – why would he kill her?

On the other hand, remember, that Liliana is also the object of Ricardo’s obsession. This movie is all about the parallels between seemingly unlikely events, emotions and people. Just as we are shown the parallels between Esposito and Gomez, we are also shown the parallels between Esposito and Ricardo. They are kindred spirits, sharing the deep soul connection of years upon years of unrequited love, helpless to do anything else but watch the object of their passion in the arms of another. While Esposito throws all his energy and emotion into the case and Gomez finds solace in football, Ricardo is never really given an outlet for his all-consuming passion.

Could it be that the flash of epiphany Esposito has in the car is, in fact, the truth? That Ricardo kills the woman he loves as an act of mercy, and then gives Gomez what to him is the ultimate punishment – that of silent, solitary confinement for the rest of his life?

I read several reviews and “ending explained” articles subsequent to watching the film, simply because I couldn’t wrap my head around its neat little conclusion, because it wasn’t as neat as it seemingly professed to be. Admittedly, there were much fewer articles available (this being a foreign language film and being overshadowed, in the English-speaking world at least, by its Hollywood remake); yet none alluded to the possible ambiguity that I took away from the film!

Oh well. I am a sucker for ambiguous endings. They say that the beauty of art is in its interpretation. And clearly, this film is cinematic art at its best. Right up there among my all-time favourite crime dramas, this one is a must-watch, not just for lovers of the genre, but simply anyone who is a fan of intelligent filmmaking.