Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 7

by javabeans

Another cute, funny episode with a case of the week that works to push our main characters on the romance train. You know, I wasn’t sure how this love triangle would work out, and I think we still have a way to go before declaring it ultimately successful or not, but I find that it’s working better than I thought. It could be because Lee Jong-hyuk is a sexy bastard, but I’ll give credit where it’s due: Chunderella’s a sexy bastard too. Okay okay, and Sooyoung has been doing a pretty solid job as the plucky lead—I figure since she’s playing this potentially aggravating cliche of a heroine and hasn’t yet annoyed me, this is a victory.

SONG OF THE DAY

Yoo Seung-woo – “한심한 남자가 부르는 노래” (A song sung by a pathetic man)
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EPISODE 7 RECAP

Late at night, Byung-hoon sees two shifty-looking goons lurking outside the restaurant. They scram when they see him, and as he pauses as he passes by the glass doors of the restaurant, which puts him in Seung-pyo’s eyeline. Master gets a gleam in his eye.

Hm, I had thought he was working a much more detailed con but perhaps I gave him too much credit—he’s making up this plan on the fly. So Seung-pyo slides the door open to give Byung-hoon the chance to eavesdrop as he asks Min-young out. She’s startled, and by the way she seems reluctant to believe that he’s being serious, I’d say she is less interested in him than I thought she might be.

Meanwhile, Byung-hoon looks surprisingly disturbed by this turn of events, turning grumpy at the thought of them dating. I’ll venture the guess that his crankiness is as much a surprise to him as to the rest of us, since I don’t think he’s aware of his interest in Min-young, or at least not acknowledging it.

Min-young asks whether this is a joke, and Seung-pyo answers that depending upon her response, he can turn it into one. To my ears that sounds like a real proposal, but she plays obtuse for long enough that Seung-pyo clocks Byung-hoon’s exit and then withdraws the proposal. He plays it off like an off-the-cuff joke, and Min-young just about falls over in relief.

The thing is, Seung-pyo was in fact up to something, even if this last-minute dating offer was pulled out of the blue. His two goons escape the scene (they’re the two loan sharks, of course) and gripe at Byung-hoon’s sudden appearance, which ruined their plans. (They also complain about the stuffiness of wool ski masks and want to complain to the hat-making industry: “Don’t people rob banks in summer?”)

They wonder whether Seung-pyo’s attentions toward Min-young may be tinged with real attraction, and why Seung-pyo’s got such an animosity for Byung-hoon. For now, they’ll remain unanswered questions.

The next morning, Byung-hoon is grumpy as Min-young heads off for her first day on the restaurant job. Okay, grumpier than usual, since a certain amount of grumpy is a fixture of his soul. She reminds him of how hard she worked with Master last night, which is just the thing to get him sniping at her, Oh, were we working, or working it? He’s being such a little boy.

Then Moo-jin comes by with her cooking supplies, and asks her for a favor. He gets all up in her personal space and says in his robotic way, “Touch my face.” So she does, albeit amidst much confusion, and he checks his heart rate monitor. No change in pulse. He actually looks perplexed by this, as though this makes little sense. Min-young is left grumbling, “I need a translator for everyone here!”

Seung-pyo drops by the agency with chef’s knives to offer Min-young, but she’s already gone and Byung-hoon takes great satisfaction in telling him they got it covered. This leads to an amusing dick-waving session with both men shooting barbs at each other. Byung-hoon makes a pointed reference to shady figures lurking about, and Seung-pyo returns that all he’s seen is a bad-tempered tomcat on the prowl. After Master leaves, Byung-hoon has a fit of the itchies at the mere mention of cats. Haha.

On to the restaurant. Chef Mi-jin isn’t expecting great skills of Min-young after yesterday’s terrible performance, but she says she hired her because she shows some potential. Mi-jin is a tough but fair boss, and sets her to slicing onions. Min-young is much better today, and explains her bad display as a case of nerves.

Watching from the surveillance van, Byung-hoon gives her the go-ahead to begin their actual mission. Min-young casually brings up the cooking show and praises winner Dal-in, but the response is, as usual, unequivocally negative. When asked why, Mi-jin says plainly that first off, he’s a man, and that in itself is a mark against him.

She’s not without reason for her dismissal, though, having encountered numerous workplace degradations merely for being female. She warns Min-young about her future hardships and describes the unfairness of most of society’s women doing the cooking at home, but the haute cuisine world being ruled by men. Men who are cruel and mean and prejudiced, who fire women for being women, who care about power and fame more than their food.

Min-young commiserates a bit with the part about the arrogant, thinks-he’s-so-awesome man who looks down on you. From the van, Moo-jin recognizes who she’s talking about, while Byung-hoon balks: “What? When have I ever acted like I was awesome? It’s just that I’m awesome to begin with.”

Patissier client Dal-in joins them in the van, and now it’s time to explain how the team will get suss out Mi-jin’s real stance on male chefs. Moo-jin stages an encounter with her on her daily run, approaching with his slo-mo action hero shot and then professing great respect for her work. He takes her hand, allowing his special ring to get a read on her pulse, and asks if he could work in her kitchen.

As Moo-jin smiles on cue and recites pretty words (“I would love to be a part of your beautiful chef world”), her pulse rate does go up. I love how this is simultaneously good news (she doesn’t hate all men chefs) and also bad news (Dal-in develops an eye twitch at the flirting). Still, she turns him down, saying that it has nothing to do with him specifically—it’s her personal credo not to hire men. She can’t trust them, and she can’t work with someone she doesn’t trust.

This provides Byung-hoon with a helpful starting point, since what will attract Mi-jin is a trustworthy man who will be reliable in times of crisis. Now all they have to do is turn Dal-in into her “super airbag.” Uh, metaphorically.

Step 1: Send in the goons! The two loan sharks assume the role of snooty food bloggers and head into Dal-in’s bakery, where they order a huge spread and start tasting. This is timed to coincide with Mi-jin’s bread run, and as she and Min-young arrive, the goons stuff a rubber band into a half-eaten pastry.

Step 2: Kick up a huge fuss with the bakery employees, which includes insulting them and acting self-important. (They’re posing as the “Thumb Brothers,” who can make or break a business with their thumbs-up or thumbs-down ratings.) They’re as obnoxious as possible, demanding that the employee kneel in apology.

That sparks Mi-jin’s sense of righteousness and she steps in to deal with their douchery. I love the moment when Min-young acts timid, saying, “Chef-nim, please don’t…” all while pushing her forward with her index finger. Funnier still is how terrible they are at “acting,” suddenly turning wooden and monotone now that they’re in the spotlight.

They make sure to insult her for being a woman, and that gets her hackles up even more. Which leads us to…

Step 3: Enter Dal-in, all smoothness and exaggerated confidence. He adopts a hero pose and steps in, noting that it appears the Thumb Brothers fixed the tainted bread. When they bluff that they’ll write about this online, Dal-in spouts legalese about the prison sentence they could earn for libel and defamation of character.

Dal-in demands an apology for his employee, saying, “You cannot mistreat someone just because she’s a young woman.” When one brother raises a hand to Mi-jin, Dal-in grabs it and demands another apology for her. The goons apologize and slink out, Mi-jin starts to regard Dal-in through new eyes, and Byung-hoon is satisfied. Now that she’ll feel indebted to Dal-in, that’ll keep him in her thoughts.

Arang, meanwhile, is on a reconnaissance mission of his own. Disguised as a deliveryman, he drops off some supplies in a busy kitchen—whose kitchen, it’s unclear—then sneaks around to investigate. He snaps photos of a certain chef and sends those to the team.

At Master’s restaurant, waitress Hye-ri daydreams about Moo-jin, unaware that their sole customer is busy mooning over her. He’s the curious fellow who’s been in many of the background shots, and this is the first time we focus on him (albeit only for a second or two).

Seung-pyo’s also thinking of romance; he smiles at the sight of Min-young walking by, which makes him think of his proposal to date, and that in turn fades his smile. So… he’s starting to like her for real, then?

Min-young is the first back at the agency, and in looking for Byung-hoon she spies his letter sticking out of his drawer—the one from his friend Do-il. Seeing that it’s still unopened, she can’t quite push aside the impulse to peek…

She sets out to steam the envelope open, though she doesn’t get very far since she’s just imitating the movies, ha. Hearing Byung-hoon’s voice outside, she starts running with letter in hand to put it back… and comes face to face with him at the door.

His face darkens and he accuses her of snooping. He’s legitimately angry, and she’s legitimately confused with her own actions, wondering what the hell possessed her. “Why am I curious about a card that you received? What does it matter to me whether you still like your first love? Why do I care, and why do I have to do something as shameful as stealing someone else’s little card?”

Oof, that’s so plainly honest that I’m cringing for her, even as I’m rather gratified that she’s able to get that out there. She’s mortified, of course, and hurries outside; he follows her, though no longer angry. He notes the backwardness of him consoling her when she should be begging his forgiveness.

It clicks for Byung-hoon, who asks, “Do you like me?” (And then has to go and add, “Well, that’s plenty possible.”) Min-young recovers her composure and tells him nope, not at all. He actually lets it go at that, choosing not to fuss over her breach of his privacy, though he warns her that he won’t let it slide the next time.

Listening just around the way is Seung-pyo, who’s a little surprised by the scene, but also amused. Not gonna lie, his smile creeps me out. Stop creeping me out, Master!

Byung-hoon does at least finally open the card, which is an invitation to Do-il and Yi-seol’s wedding. With a sigh, he puts it away.

The next day, Min-young roundly denies (to herself) that she could like Byung-hoon, and huffs that it was arrogant and presumptuous for him to think so. Hmph.

As she watches Dal-in work, she wonders what he likes so much about Mi-jin, who was so mean to him. Dal-in admits that he doesn’t know exactly—it’s just that he misses her, and she makes his heart flutter. Plus, even when there were “strange rumors” about her during the show filming, he doesn’t care about any of that. Hm, this is the second time we’re hearing about those rumors. Act 3 plot twist?

Dal-in adds wistfully that he’d really love for Mi-jin to be the first guest on the show he got as the prize for winning the competition, and that gives Min-young an idea.

She heads back to Mi-jin’s kitchen armed with a sigh and a story, about how Dal-in is in such a lurch right now. He’s having trouble finding a guest for his show, and he’s worried about the recipe he’ll have to develop, and man, if only there were somebody who could lend a hand…

Mi-jin wonders if she should help—you know, just to pay him back for helping her. Min-young eagerly encourages her to go ahead, and when Mi-jin says she can’t tonight because she has to make the broth, Min-young insists on handling it. Uh-oh. This could end badly.

Min-young calls Byung-hoon to request backup on her broth-making duties, only to be told that the boys are busy, so she can handle it on her own. Byung-hoon takes up his position in the Van of All Knowing, smirking that she’ll be roughing it alone tonight—only to be told that she isn’t alone.

Master to the rescue. Seung-pyo is once more her gracious tutor, assuring her that he enjoys cooking together. (Byung-hoon wants to turn on the cameras covering Min-young, but doesn’t get his way when Moo-jin points out that both target and client are together, so they don’t need that one. Byung-hoon actually pouts.)

Over at the bakery, Dal-in lights up in the cutest way when Mi-jin steps inside. He keeps shooting her these doofy smitten looks as they cook together, although really she’s the one doing the cooking and he’s mostly whisking air.

Byung-hoon instructs Dal-in to dab some whipped cream on his lip, and Dal-in proceeds to smear a whole gob all over his mouth like a fool. I almost can’t watch—it’s hilarious, but so secondhand-embarrassing. But Mi-jin just wipes it off his face with a finger… and then licks the cream off her finger. It’s very matter-of-fact, but Dal-in completely geeks out about it.

By now she’s finding him pretty cute, and Mi-jin offers casually to be his first guest. He literally double-takes, and then flips out in giggles and thanks. Aw.

As Min-young tends to the broth, she mentions her family, which prompts Seung-pyo to ask whether they’re close. She says that they want her to move back home and help with the family fig orchard, and promises to send him the best of the next crop in thanks for being her teacher.

There’s an interesting change that comes over his demeanor as he says she must have grown up in a happy family. She doesn’t notice, but we see the shift—wistful? Sad? She answers that a person always considers their own family to be the best, and he muses, “Hyung always said that too.”

At the bakery, Dal-in and Mi-jin work companionably for a while, and then he says happily that it’s like a dream to be working on a recipe together. That seems to trigger a negative response, perhaps a bad memory, and she says, “There’s no such thing as a recipe made together.” She excuses herself right away.

Confused, Dal-in asks the guys whether he did anything wrong. But Byung-hoon is smiling, and assures him that he did very well. He says his hunch was right, and Moo-jin adds, “It’s a good thing we sent Arang.”

With this leg of the operation over, Byung-hoon immediately gets up to leave with an obviously lame excuse about prep. You’re so going to crash that kitchen date, aren’t you?

Speaking of which, our broth-makers are enjoying pleasant conversation when the door opens. Min-young panics—they have to do something before Mi-jin sees him here—and in her haste she sends some soup flying. Seung-pyo whirls her around to get her away from it, and that’s how they end up in each other’s arms. For Byung-hoon to see.

 
COMMENTS

What I respond to about this show is the banter and the humor—it’s light and effervescent and doesn’t take itself too seriously. It’s in those moments that the show is at its best, I think, which is why it’s such an easy watch for me.

It’s less convincing as a romance, in that I can see where we’re headed and don’t quite feel it ringing true. I have no problems with this setup—it’s only that in this case I feel like I’m being pulled along by the show, rather than believing the emotions. I can sort of buy that Min-young is developing a very unwelcome crush on her difficult boss, because there are elements to the character that support that dynamic. She’s the hopeless romantic, the optimist, the fixer. So when she sees a rumply curmudgeon of a cynic who has lost his sense of romance, it makes sense that she’d be drawn to him, even when he’s often aggravating and unlikable.

The men, on the other hand, I don’t buy. Again, I have no problem with the setup(s)—in fact, I actively like them. On one hand you have the Byung-hoon finding himself preoccupied by his annoyingly chipper employee, and that’s just an awkward enough situation to be entertaining from a viewer standpoint. And on the other hand you have the cryptic possible-con-artist (or at least just liar) who’s using the girl to annoy his nemesis, only to find he might like her for real. I’m a fan of both scenarios. But they feel too hastily developed, so I find myself just going with the plot because I ought to, and not because it feels true.

This is such an enjoyably fluffy show for me that those complaints aren’t big detractors, since I don’t need deep emotional commitment to this show. The witty dialogue and cute, clever setups are sustaining the drama pretty well, and I’m happy to have a show breeze by and remain fun the whole way through. That’s not always (or often) the case in dramaland, as we know, so I’m not about to look gift horses in mouths. In fact, here’s actually a case where I like the drama better than the original movie, because the drama has avoided the pitfalls of adaptation (see Level 7 Civil Servant for a master list of all the things you can get wrong) and cherry-picked the best of what made the movie fun and left behind the rest. But hey, the story ain’t a classic for no reason.

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• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 6
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 5
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 4
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 3
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 2
• Dating Agency Cyrano: Episode 1