Sex, drugs, and The Glory

Courtesy of Daniel Bernard

By David A. Tizzard

Revolutions do not happen often in popular culture. We normally just go through phases: cycling through a series of trends with things moving in and out of fashion over time. There is continuous evolution but little in the way of dramatic shifts. When such a revolution does take place, however, it fundamentally alters the cultural landscape and provides a clear demarcation point of everything before and after that revolution.

One example of this is the arrival of Seotaeji and Boys. Such was the influence of that trio in the early 1990s, culture critics often divide the Korean music into "Before Seotaeji" and "After Seotaeji." They were groundbreaking in their approach to music, dance, media and lyrical content. So much so that any group that appeared after them was forced to incorporate much of what Seotaeji had introduced. This was a genuine revolution. It gave birth to K-pop. It completely altered Korean culture and forced people to reconsider what music was. Everything that has arrived since has been evolving from that ground zero moment. So powerful was that whirlwind that, 30 years later, we are essentially waiting for another revolution. Today's boy groups and girl groups adopt the role of idols, repeating the same choreographed routines to electronic dance music in front of adoring fans. It's great. But it's not new. It stands on the shoulders of Seotaeji rather than creating a new whole new frame of reference.

The glorious revolution?

"The Glory" is a very good drama. But leaving aside the success and popularity, all of which is deserved, does "The Glory" provide anything close to the revolution that some journalists are claiming? The acting is strong, the tension is real, and a sense of mystery slowly unfolds. This is testament to the continued writing success of the legendary Kim Eun-sook. Having already penned "Mr. Sunshine," "Descendants of the Sun," "Goblin," "Secret Garden" and many other hugely popular shows, Kim has done it again. There is no denying the cultural impact "The Glory" has achieved, both domestically and internationally. Despite what the media might be suggesting, however, I don't think it's a revolution in any sense of the word.

The suggestion that revenge and bullying are new in Korean media is somewhat myopic. Revenge has been a staple of Korean media for some time. Not only did Park Chan-wook create a whole revenge trilogy a couple of decades ago, his truly spectacular movie "Oldboy" centered around a slow-burning revenge carried out years after a school incident had taken place. Swap Choi Min-sik for Song Hye-gyo and replace incest for drugs and the two aren't that far removed. Society has certainly changed, however. Now people in real life are more willing to speak up about their sufferings in group hierarchical situations such as school or the office. Korea today is more democratic and offers more protections. "The Glory" speaks to these people very passionately and effectively. And that's a positive change.

So what is new in "The Glory"? First, you now see full-frontal shots of breasts and naked bodies. This is relatively new for a K-drama. You also see a few rather intense sex scenes. Alongside this is the frequent references to drugs and a character almost continually smoking marijuana. The sex and the drugs. But let's take a step back and see how these are portrayed.

The sex and drugs in the drama are associated with the bad characters and the bad characters only. The characters have sex because they are bad and they are bad because they have sex. Lust brings about their downfall. It's almost religious in its preaching and how it deals with the various infidelities we see taking place. They have sex with each other almost indiscriminately. This is, after all, what bad people do. Compare this with the laughably Disney-lite high-teen relationship between the "good guys." They share a house, cook each other food, talk about their feelings, occasionally brush against each other, but never once do we get a sense of them being horny or having sexual desire. Of course they don't have such feelings. They are the good guys. They are the good guys because they don't have sex and they don't have sex because they are the good guys. For those that remember "Scream" (1996), this movie openly discussed and mocked the cliches and stereotypes we still see on display here in "The Glory."

Cinderella Revisited

We have been told that the Cinderella storylines of yore have been phased out in K-dramas. That now they are empowering women and presenting more realistic and hard-edged plots. Some of them are, for sure. And Song Hye-gyo's character is not the coquettish passive object of previous years. She explicitly says she doesn't want a prince as a nod to the feminist movement. But nevertheless, she is still a character from a poor background who finds a man in possession of untold amounts of money willing to do anything for her without having any physical desire. The rich man capable of buying buildings, wielding huge influence, and being morally good falling for the family-less girl. Nothing new here, in my opinion. But maybe that's a good thing? Some people like that. There's a reason K-dramas are successful: the audience enjoys its more conservative approach to morals. But again, it's not revolutionary in its portrayal. Just more of the same conservatism, particularly from the talented writer Kim Eun-sook.

And then the drugs. This works in the same way. The character of Sara does drugs because she is bad and she is bad because she does drugs. Please do not misunderstand the following as advocating drugs or suggesting that they should be portrayed in a positive light. It is merely an analysis of what is being shown on Korean screens. Ultimately, the content here is rather vague. Sara is constantly seen smoking and buying marijuana, yet the effects this has on her seems closer to heroin or fentanyl. She is frequently screaming, scratching at her body, crawling on the floor, and suffering huge physical and psychological withdrawal symptoms. Her identity is also key: she is young, pretty, and the daughter of a rich family. A modern yangban. This easily ties into the Korean public's subconscious of those who might do drugs. And of course, she suffers a terrible fate as a result.

It might be suggested that Korea loves the output of people who have done drugs but not the process in which the output was brought about. Go to any pub, noraebang, or small restaurant and you will hear The Beatles and the Eagles all night long. In a more modern setting, Justin Bieber and Snoop Dog will likely be part of the soundtrack. These artists have all openly spoken about the drug consumption and art. Domestically, you have G-Dragon and Psy who might also come under the same category. But this doesn't mean you smoke marijuana and you automatically become a great artist. By the same token, it doesn't mean Paul McCartney is a terrible person who will end up in jail. The reality is often more mundane and boring. Korean dramas in this sense are still well entrenched in fantasy.

Searching for Korean Revolution

Western dramas, movies, and television have long showed protagonists or ambiguous characters that engage in sex and/or drugs without affecting their morality. This is not necessarily right or wrong ― it's just different and completely in context with their culture and value systems. In Korea, sex and drugs is still largely associated with a lack of morality. "The Glory" does not really change anything in that aspect. It's a bit more extreme in some of the scenes, but it's evolution more than revolution.

To revolutionize is not simply a case of following Western standards. That misses the point. It's about creating new Korean standards. Standards and values in keeping with the historical trajectory here. So while "The Glory" is a fun watch and gripping drama, I don't really think it's as revolutionary as social media might tell us. In fact, it seems pretty much par for the course when you strip away the window dressing of intense sex and graphic violence.

Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.