High Kick 3: Episodes 120-123 (Final)

by javabeans

High Kick 3 finally comes to an end! It both feels like it’s whizzed by in a blur and taken forever. It’s because the stories tend to fly right by, cute and brisk and moving right along to make room for more good stuff without belaboring points. But when you step back and take a look at the whole, there has been so much growth and development that these characters have walked miles. And for the most part, it feels like we’ve walked with ’em.

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Verandah Project – “Good Bye” [ Download ]

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EPISODE 120 WEECAP

Jong-seok finds the letter Soo-jung wrote to Seung-yoon when she thought he was in the army, and is quick to rub her face in the “love letter,” sing-songing about how she must like Seung-yoon.

Soo-jung protests, insisting there’s no way she likes Stupid — she’d never! When Seung-yoon arrives, she headlocks him and demands that he tell the others that she doesn’t like him. Confused, he agrees, although even Mom and Dad smile knowingly.

Now that Jin-hee has secured her dream job, she finds her own apartment. She packs her things and has a tearful goodbye with Ha-sun, though both ladies try to keep cheery. Jin-hee thanks Ha-sun and vows to repay the kindness, and the roommates throw a party to mark her last night here.

The next day is her last day at the clinic, and she goes in early to pack her things. When the new employee arrives, Jin-hee trains her — until she realizes she’s talking to Kye-sang’s replacement, not the new intern. Whoops.

Kye-sang arrives at the clinic after Jin-hee leaves, and they text back and forth, disappointed to have missed each other on her last day. Even worse is that he’ll probably be running so late he’ll miss her send-off dinner.

Sure enough he isn’t able to make it, and they send more disappointed texts, since it’s such an anticlimactic way to send somebody off. But she forgets the Jin-sang plant at the office and goes back for it, and runs into Kye-sang there, and they decide to have a drink as a mini-sendoff party.

The ajumma recognizes the Jin-sang plant as a kumquat, not the cherry tomatoes they’d believed. Now Jin-hee sighs at all the things she was wrong about — the new doctor at the clinic, the plant, and thinking Nurse Im was single when she’s a married mother. What else doesn’t she know?, she wonders. Kye-sang jokes, “I’m actually younger than you, noona,” and actually has her believing it for half a second.

Jong-seok is thoroughly enjoying making fun of Soo-jung for liking Seung-yoon, and Seung-yoon gets caught in their fights. He asks Jong-seok to quit teasing her because it just makes himself feel bad for being the cause. But he mentions Soo-jung visiting him at the training center, and Jong-seok tears out of there mid-conversation to up the mockery: She doesn’t like him — she loooooves him. So childish, but cute.

Today is Seung-yoon’s birthday, and the family prepares a special dinner. Seung-yoon is touched, but more sibling fighting ends with Seung-yoon diving face-first into his own cake, and he’s had enough of being caught in the middle. He thanks them for dinner, but leaves without eating a bite of it.

Instead, he eats instant ramyun in a convenience store, and Soo-jung calls him out, surprising him with a cake and a song, saying she felt bad for ruining his birthday. She even has seaweed soup in a thermos, and since she has no money to buy him a gift, she does a dance (to SNSD’s “Gee”).

As she dances, Seung-yoon gapes, as though seeing her in a new light. What’s amusing is that she dances and sings happy birthday with an uncharacteristic — dare I say girlfriendy — sweetness, but as soon as she’s done she drops the act and reverts to her usual blunt self, warning him not to tell a soul about this.

He asks, even though he knows it really can’t be true, totally, he’s just checking — she doesn’t like him, right? In her usual cranky tone, she declares no, and he backs off — he was just making sure!

When Jong-seok walks by, the two panic and she ducks for cover behind a shrub while he lies that he was just out for a walk, uh huh, yup!

Jin-hee and Kye-sang drop by her new workplace after hours, where she finds her new desk. She admits that she’s scared, and that today’s reminders of how much she doesn’t know has shaken her confidence — she used to think her fortitude would carry her through, but what if she was believing in the wrong thing?

Kye-sang tells her not to be afraid — not knowing is what makes life interesting, compared to life deciding everything from the start. He makes her promise to share whatever fruit the plant eventually bears and wishes her well.

Jin-hee smiles up at him, comforted, and thinks about the meaning of failed love — after it’s done, does it just disappear, leaving nothing behind? But in this moment, she’s glad to have liked Kye-sang — liking such a warm and lovely person leaves her with no regrets.

The next day, Jin-hee reports for her first day at the advertising company and sits down at the desk bearing her initials… which turns out not to be her desk after all. Oops.

Unfazed, she hurries to the intern meeting room and bursts in, announcing herself buoyantly.

 
EPISODE 121 WEECAP

To Ha-sun’s great dismay, Ji-won still wants to go to Rwanda. Ha-sun says fiercely that she won’t let her go and while Ji-won has a stubborn personality, she isn’t unaffected by the pleas, feeling bad to see Ha-sun so emotional.

Jong-seok “accidentally” drops his test in front of Ji-won to show off his perfect score and basks in her praise. Ji-won says she envies Jong-seok, because everyone roots for him, whereas everyone opposes her wishes.

Jong-seok thinks she’s referring to not really wanting to go to medical school, though he assumes she’s still going to Myungin University (her first choice, his ultimate goal). He tells her to pursue what she wants, because you only live once.

Lee Juck, meanwhile, is in a rut. His life consists of work and “cold blind dates with cold women,” and now he finds himself missing “her.” We finally get a clear answer as to who that is, because he drops by the clinic asking for Jin-hee, but hears that she quit.

Soo-jung runs into him nearby and asks for a ride, and he obliges. There’s a tiny bit of a misdirect planted in the scene that perhaps the “her” is Soo-jung after all, but it’s a fleeting moment.

Ji-sun deflects calls from a persistent caller, hiding it from Julien. Finally a call sends her hurrying away, canceling their dinner date, and Yoon Gun advises Julien to worry — she’s acting like a woman who’s got a man on the side.

Turns out his spidey sense is right on, because Ji-sun reluctantly meets with her ex (Park Sung-kwang), who asks her to take him back. He’s married, but he says he’s technically single since they haven’t filed the paperwork.

Ji-sun rejects him flat, so he changes tack and asks to borrow money, at which point Julien arrives to put him in his place, and here the height difference actually works as a funny sight gag. The ex has a quirky way of speaking (“Start over. Let’s. The two of us”) that Julien unconsciously mimics (“You’ll get hit. Hard. If you come back”), and then he ushers his girlfriend away.

Ji-sun apologizes, wanting to take care of it without worrying Julien, but he tells her he doesn’t need explanations because he trusts her. Aw, the relationship’s a little random but they’re cute enough.

Ha-sun and Ji-seok go to Kye-sang to ask him to help dissuade Ji-won from going to Rwanda. Jong-seok overhears the conversation and immediately puts the pieces together, and it angers him — so she’s following her crush to another country?

He confronts her later that night, and it seems to me that his reaction stems from feeling like she’s shut down his own dream, since she was the catalyst for his college goals. He asks while fighting tears, “Why tell me to go to college if you’re not even going to go?” Ji-won starts to say that Kye-sang isn’t the whole reason for Rwanda, just like she’s not his entire reason for wanting college. He cuts her off: “Do whatever you want.”

That night Ha-sun breaks down and cries to Ji-won that she lives in daily fear that she’ll pick up and leave at any moment. Furthermore, she’s sorry for not knowing Ji-won was lonely, or seeing past her smiling facade.

Kye-sang calls Ji-won to talk and reminds her about something she’d said — that they were there for each other in their times of difficulty. He says it’s true, but he doesn’t know what that means, or what he feels about it, and it’s something he’ll think about. So he hopes she won’t rush either, because she’s young and has time.

Ji-won understands that he’s yet another person telling her not to Rwanda, and says it feels like she’s caught an infectious disease, spreading unhappiness to those she cares about most: Ha-sun, Jong-seok, and Kye-sang. She starts to cry, saying that she’s just trying to follow her heart for once — why won’t it work?

Lee Juck buys musical tickets and tries calling Jin-hee, but finds her number has changed. He goes to the house to see her in person, and finds that she’s moved. Soo-jung happens to be there, so he invites her to the musical, and she’s happy to accept.

But on the day of the show, she cancels at the last minute because an urgent matter has popped up. It’s sort of a white lie, and it would be annoying if not for the fact that her “important matter” is to make Seung-yoon ramyun. So cute. You know what they say about actions speaking louder than words… (even though her words are pretty loud as she complains about how annoying he is, even as she chooses him over a free show).

With minutes till showtime Lee Juck tries to return the tickets, just as another patron is being turned away from the sold-out show: Jin-hee.

They chat while waiting for the curtain to fall, and he admits that he actually bought the tickets for her. When she describes her awesome new job, he says he envies her, because he has no joy for his tiresome work.

But today plants an idea in his head, and after he goes home, he starts writing a novel — the novel that the show uses as its framework — about coming out of the depressing, long tunnel in his thirties, of which Jin-hee shines as the light at the end.

Ji-won decides not to go to Rwanda, to Ha-sun’s relief. But there’s more bad news around the bend, because Ha-sun receives word that her mother’s surgery didn’t go so well after all.

 
EPISODE 122 WEECAP

This means another trip to the States, and Ha-sun plans a two-week visit to take care of Mom. She makes preparations, while everyone assures her not to worry because they’ll take care of the home front.

Kye-sang packs up his office and readies his departure, just as war breaks out again in Rwanda. The family urges him not to go, Yoo-sun in particular worried about his safety, and Kye-sang comes up with a lot fo resistance despite assuring them that he’d stay safe. Finally he relents, agreeing to redirect his volunteer efforts to rural Korea.

He runs into Ji-won in the tunnel, both of them in the same boat now that their Rwanda plans have fallen by the wayside. They reminisce about meeting in this tunnel, which has changed a lot over time and holds a lot of memories.

Kye-sang sees the band-aid stuck on the wall, which she explains was hers from the time she fell and he helped bandage her up. She’d wanted to leave a marker that she was here. He wants to see what she’d written underneath it, but she stops him, saying it’s silly and meaningless.

Ha-sun wants a last date before her trip, so she and Ji-seok go whole hog and spend a full day out doing coupley things and memorizing each other’s faces. Ji-seok looks forward to the things they can do when she’s back like cherry blossom viewing in April and going to the opening baseball game, which is much more exciting than the exhibition game tonight.

Ha-sun gets a call from Dad during dinner, and she doesn’t betray any emotion over the news but it’s clear something’s wrong, and she suddenly decides she wants to see that exhibition after all. She insists they go, and they sit there like old times; it’s a fitting activity, since baseball is how they bonded in the first place. Aw, she’s not going to come back, is she?

They take a leisurely walk afterward, and Ha-sun pauses to take in the moment. He tells her he’s so happy that sometimes he thinks he’s dreaming, which makes him afraid that if it really were a dream, he’d be crushed. She gives him a sudden kiss.

You almost want Ji-seok to clue in to her behavior — he talks about doing things later, while she insists on doing them now — but you also want their last date to end happily.

Ji-won comes upon Kye-sang outside, who sits in contemplative silence after having drinks with a friend. He asks her to play him a song, and she sings as we get a montage of all their moments throughout the series. I’m not getting a romantic vibe from him, but more of a rueful sympathy for their similar situations — feeling lonely, wanting to do something, having loved ones oppose your plans.

But Kye-sang’s moodiness also comes from knowing he’s going to hurt his family anyway, in particular his sister, because he wakes Yoo-sun on the morning of his departure to tell her he’s actually going to Rwanda, not the countryside. She protests, but he tells her he has to go, and assures her he’ll be safe.

He doesn’t want big goodbyes or grand send-offs, so he’s written everyone a letter. Yoo-sun tearfully sends him off, and Kye-sang thanks noona for being his biggest support. They say their emotional goodbyes, waving at each other through tears.

Another sad goodbye comes for Ha-sun, who is sent off by Ji-seok. She has a hard time keeping her smiling face on, and as suspected, it turns out she’s not coming back right away. Her mother’s health is pretty bad, and recovery will be slow, so she’s moving to the States indefinitely.

Ji-won finds a box outside her door, which contains a camera just like the one she’d told Kye-sang her father once bought her, which was lost. Kye-sang explains seeing it in a camera shop, and since it’s engraved with the same initials as Ji-won’s camera, he’d bought it thinking it might be hers.

A flashback shows us the night before, when Kye-sang had left her the gift and then headed to the tunnel, where he’d written what she’d written underneath the band-aid. With a smile, he sees the words:

Ji-won & Kye-sang, 2011.10.31

Ji-won takes photos with the new (old) camera, and when flipping through the developed photographs, she finds one she hadn’t taken. It’s Kye-sang in the mirror, snapped accidentally while packing the camera for her. She pins that picture up on her board.

 
EPISODE 123 WEECAP

As we suspected, Ha-sun doesn’t come back, and it leaves Ji-seok withdrawn and morose. She calls occasionally, always apologetic, but for now she has no plans to return yet.

Nae-sang upgrades his business to Ahn’s World, and buys an expensive bottle of champagne along with new equipment. Yoo-sun chides him for the expense, but he says it’ll be opened later, once he’s found success. It’ll be motivation for him to work hard to merit opening it.

However, the kids get into yet another petty fight, and Soo-jung shoves Jong-seok, who knocks over the bottle, breaking it. Eeep! Seung-yoon suggests transferring the label to a new bottle; even though they’ll be outed the second anyone takes a taste, at least that’ll spare them punishment for now.

It takes Dad a while to get work, but he comes home ecstatic when he gets his first gig. The kids tense when the champagne is mentioned, but Nae-sang says that no, the champagne will be for a big success later down the line. Instead, he suggests a fireworks party to celebrate.

Jong-seok has decided to intensify his college prep by moving into a live-in dorm-academy situation. Basically he’ll be studying full-time for the entrance exams; he tells Ji-won he’s going to make a real proper go of it, and make it to Myungin. She asks for a handshake, and he obliges.

I do think Ji-won’s envious that Jong-seok is whole-hearted about his studies, because it’s something she lacks. When she drops in ranking from second to fourth and her “rival” crows about crushing her, Soo-jung asks if she’s bummed about it, but she says she doesn’t care. Being good at something and liking it are different. Soo-jung figures that means she likes something other than studying, and encourages, “Do it. Whatever that is.”

The Ahn family climbs the hill and begins their lights show. As they shoot fireworks into the air, Jong-seok thinks to himself:

Jong-seok: “Will Dad succeed enough to open that bottle of champagne? Thinking about it, I don’t think Soo-jung or I will be scolded over it after all. It’ll stay there until Dad succeeds, and when we finally open it, Dad will have succeeded enough that it won’t matter whether it’s fake. The dreams we have may end up being illusions, just like that champagne. Maybe they won’t be anything special in reality, or maybe they’ll be unattainable in the end. Maybe to me, Kim Ji-won and Myungin University will turn out to be illusions too. But because we have those illusions, we run.”

Two months into Ha-sun’s departure, Ji-seok is still quite and glum. He narrates for us how life has dulled, how time creeps by slowly, how his memories of her are only getting sharper. He misses her like crazy and comes to the unmistakable conclusion that he can’t live without her.

And so, he decides he’ll go see her — and that it doesn’t matter what happens, because it’ll be better than things are now. With resolve he starts to run home, ready to act on his decision — and she’s there, waiting for him.

Ha-sun apologizes for coming so late, and they they stand there, just taking each other in.

Ji-won gets a postcard in the mail from Rwanda, which starts out with the simple question, “How are you?” She starts writing a reply in class as the teacher makes another comment about the rankings that everybody but her cares about. It prompts a decision of her own and walks out of class with a bow and a smile, saying, “Bye, everyone.”

Soo-jung follows her out to ask if she’s heading to do that thing she wants to do. Ji-won nods, and Soo-jung doesn’t prod for details — she just raises a fist and wishes her luck.

As Ji-won leaves, we hear her reply to Kye-sang, in voiceover:

Ji-won: “Ajusshi, I haven’t been fine. But I’m going to try, from now. So I’ve decided to end this tiresome schoolroom life — look forward to what I do in the future.”

At this point, Future Lee Juck cuts back in, telling us that this is where his novel ends — well, minus the epilogue, which was purely his imagination having fun. And we can see that yes, Jin-hee is in fact his wife.

As for the epilogue?

Seung-yoon becomes president, fulfilling his dream. Soo-jung is his interpreter, who translates his interview with the New York Times reporter who congratulates him for his successful welfare programs. But he’s still prone to saying oddball things, so Soo-jung leans in to mutter, “Stupid!”

The end.

 
COMMENTS

Annnnnd it’s over. And nobody died! Thank heavens for that; I think the PD would’ve had to worry for his safety if he’d ended this series like he did Season 2.

More than the lack of death, though, I appreciate that despite leaving open a number of threads, that openness is true to the spirit of the show. It’s not a last-minute switcheroo, deciding to leave questions unanswered for the heck of it; rather, it treats the characters as real people, heading off into the unknown after having grown, matured, and found themselves over the course of the show.

Perhaps they haven’t “found” themselves entirely — inasmuch as a person can ever complete that process of self-actualization — but if we map the arcs of the characters over the past year I think they’ve come a remarkable way, and with this finale most of them (all?) have taken that big step into the next phase of their lives.

To wit: Nae-sang and Yoo-sun have weathered their share of bumps, but he’s managed to find his feet again and the future seems promising for Ahn’s World. Perhaps this second go at running his own business is even a bigger achievement than the first time around, because this time he started off literally with nothing — bankrupt, running from creditors, hiding from the public in general, thrown into jail. You don’t get more rock bottom than that. He hasn’t been the most thoughtful husband (he was downright frustrating at times), but I think the marriage has come out of these tribulations stronger, as has the Ahn family as a unit. When things were going well before this series began, they were a happy family, but it’s after everything has shaken them up that they see exactly what they mean to each other. That marathon-running episode? Still brings tears to my eyes, just thinking about it.

On the romance front, Ji-seok and Ha-sun have confirmed their love for each other in a really devoted way that makes me feel that their relationship is rock-solid. Theirs is one of my favorite relationships in the show, because you feel their bond; you know these two are on the same page, and in it for the long haul. It would have been nice to get that happily tied storyline with a wedding or engagement, but it’s meaningful enough to have Ji-seok go through the separation and come out of it more convinced than ever that he wants and needs Ha-sun with him.

Jin-hee has come a really long way, from being homeless and broke to getting that dream job and finding stability, with the promise of a successful love to sweeten the bitterness of the failed one — even though it’s a really lovely point she made about not regretting that failure, because it was a love worth harboring.

Lee Juck turned out to be a more enjoyable character than he started out as, and I appreciate that there’s more to his relationship with Jin-hee than a mere process of elimination, where she’s the last woman standing and therefore his future wife. He has a character arc to go with hers, and they dovetail in a nice way; he’s the opposite of a lot of our characters in that he’s already established and successful in the eyes of the world, but he’s unhappy and disheartened until he finds a new passion, spurred by Jin-hee’s enthusiasm for her work.

I was okay with Kye-sang leaving to help people in the way he feels he’s most suited, even though I can’t help feel but his character wasn’t developed as much as it could have, or should have, been. He’s so capable of doing humor and heart and being engaging, but for a really long while the drama kept him more as this paragon than a person — he was the object of Jin-hee and Ji-won’s affections, but we couldn’t really see him. Not much. Not nearly enough.

Jong-seok discovered he has a future after all, and that hard work really does pay off, even if you think you’re all but out of the game. And Ji-won found a way to step outside her own rut, that cycle of achieving for the sake of doing it, not because it means anything to her.

Because it must be said, though, I think Ji-won’s character is one of the show’s less successful developments, even though at the outset she was one of my favorites; I liked that she was frank and self-possessed. She also made connections with Kye-sang and Jong-seok in subtly touching ways, which made me eager to see how she progressed.

But she became a big hindrance for me, and I think she was the hindrance for a lot of viewers. It’s not that I don’t buy a romance with Kye-sang (though I don’t), and it’s not an age issue; some of High Kick’s most successful and heartwarming pairings have subverted expectations with age (see: Jung Il-woo, Seo Min-jung). The problem, I think, is that she’s not an accessible character. I’ve seen articles discussing the failure of viewers to connect with her because she remains an enigma — whereas someone like Jin-hee, despite being more of a “loser” figure, makes you feel for her because her reactions and tribulations are universal. Her fear of failure, her desperate need to pull herself up by her bootstraps, her burden of providing for others — I rooted for her to make it, and feel proud when she does.

Ji-won, on the other hand, is so self-contained and inexpressive that it’s hard to know what she’s really thinking, or how she really feels. This is true for more than just the Rwanda situation, but that’s a prime example of the problem — it feels like a borrowed dream, and therefore I don’t believe that it’s really “what I want to do.” That’s a shame, because I really did love Soo-jung’s moment of encouragement, and the gesture of Ji-won deciding that this school stuff isn’t really for her…. except that school tends to be something you do whether you “like” it or not.

When she walks out of class, it makes me think she’s being foolish, because even if she discovers another dream, I’m not going to believe that a high school diploma somehow gets in the way of that. It strikes me as an immature move, and I want to tell her, “So you don’t enjoy school? Do you think everybody else does? Suck it up and get a diploma, then indulge your first-world angst. Not everybody gets to only do what they like to do. Boo hoo, princess.”

That’s a harsh version of my point, but I make it because the show didn’t establish an alternate explanation for her behavior. Maybe she could have decided against medical school in favor of volunteerism, for instance — just not school as an entity, because that just doesn’t work with the forced parallel of What I Want versus What Everyone Wants For Me. The show needed a better trade-off for that argument. I don’t hate her, just find her to be a frustrating cipher.

You could posit that the same borrowed-dream argument also goes for Jong-seok, and there are parallels, as she points out. But there are key differences, in that the show should have delineated her desires better so we didn’t see them as an extension of her crush. I don’t actually think she wanted to go to Rwanda because of Kye-sang, but the show doesn’t really explain her newfound desire to do public service, so we’re left wondering.

I know she isn’t saying public work is her new endgame; she’s just trying to follow her heart. But why is this the thing? Show us, don’t just gloss it over and think we won’t care. I probably would have been more accepting of her change if Kye-sang spurred her into volunteer work, and after much reflection she decided she was needed somewhere, in a place where she could make use of her unique talents. Someplace other than Rwanda. At least in that scenario, I could see her carving out her own dream.

Ultimately the problem of Ji-won is that you could never see her heart — and in a drama that’s all heart, that blankness sticks out.

Jong-seok, on the other hand, remained a favorite of mine, and his trajectory is really heartwarming. Even though he doesn’t end up with the girl he wants, I loved that hint of bittersweetness to his musing, about needing that dream to fuel him. He (and the show) did a better job with his studying storyline, separating what was inspired by his crush and what was his own desire. In the end I’m actually relieved he didn’t “get” the girl, because I liked him so much better than her, and I want more for his future. He’s working so hard, and putting everything out there to change his life for the better that the sky’s the limit.

The Ahn-Yoon family, of course, was one of the major highlights, joined by the acquired family next door. I love the juxtaposition of these two types of families — the kind who take you in when you’re down because they love you and they’re flesh and blood, and the kind who step up despite a lack of connections to become that love and support. The show doesn’t argue one as better than the other, but often drew parallel storylines between both, which I appreciated.

It’s true that some cast members didn’t get as much of the narrative spotlight, but I think I’m okay with that. Soo-jung is better in small doses, and it’s a pleasant surprise that she ended up being so much more likable than she was for the entire first half. Maybe more. I don’t know if it’s because she started getting more storylines, or maybe we just grew attached, the way people do.

Seung-yoon didn’t have a lot of growth, per se, but he absolutely pulled his weight by being reliably funny, keeping the tone quirky and amusing with his unpredictable reactions to things and absurd beliefs. And even though he remains the same lovable weirdo for much of the show, he’s forms bonds and spurs change with other characters — like his cute puppy-master relationship with Yoo-sun, or his budding (?) relationship with Soo-jung.

High Kick 3 was neither hugely funny nor hugely dramatic, so sometimes it’s easy to forget it’s technically a sitcom. It approached life in a matter-of-fact, amusing way and told the story of people who grew on us, feeling like people we know and argue with and ultimately love. It’s slice of life, in the best of ways.

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