Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 5

by javabeans

It’s a day of emotional conflict for our heroine, which I think comes not a moment too soon. While I’ve been able to enjoy the role of Nae-il without feeling upset about the aspects of her character that disappoint me, I can see the reasons others feel dissatisfied, so it’s a welcome move for the drama to start giving her some depth in her inner life. In that she now has an inner life. Thank goodness for that.

SONG OF THE DAY

Dvorak – Symphony No. 9, “New World.” 1st movement: Adagio, allegro molto [ Download ]

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LESSON 5 RECAP

Yoo-jin arrives at the rehearsal room to find the S Orchestra in the throes of despair, after seeing a recording of the A Orchestra and realizing they’re about to get spanked in the orchestra-off. Yoo-jin rips up Il-lac’s sheet music and states the cold hard truth: Of course A Orchestra’s better, as they comprise the school’s elite and have worked much harder than the S Orchestra has in a few short weeks.

Il-lac asks indignantly if he’s suggesting that they quit because they’re going to lose anyway, and Yoo-jin replies that it’s better than facing public humiliation. Hm, this isn’t going the way I was expecting, although you can’t argue that Yoo-jin’s comments have truth to them.

Then (Mini) Min-hee speaks up to say she wants to perform anyway, even if they’re not the best—this is the first time she’s worked this hard. The tiniest of smiles appears on Yoo-jin’s face, and Il-lac chimes in to agree. So Yoo-jin asks his orchestra if they’ll trust him to lead, and directs them to rip up their music. He says encouragingly that they can do it, invigorating his orchestra with renewed enthusiasm.

Min-hee steps aside to call her father, hesitantly asking if he can spare some time to drop by today. He gruffly says no, to her disappointment. Nae-il also slips away, an idea striking her at the last minute.

The faculty agree on a last-minute change to the judging panel, and Dean Mina supposes that they’ll have to leave the results in “their” hands to keep things as fair as possible. Ah, is there going to be an audience vote?

Yoo-jin’s mother joins her, and upon recognizing Streseman she grows visibly chilly toward him, in a cutely petty sort of way. Apparently the three go way back, and Mina gets caught in the middle as her friend takes jabs at Streseman for making her son his errand boy. I have to say I much prefer this version of Mina when she’s around Mom, because the coquetry she displays around her beaux is a huge yawn, but with Mom around her false front becomes funny.

Yoo-jin calls everyone together with a few minutes left till their performance, then looks around in puzzlement, feeling like he’s forgotten something. He doesn’t know what that is until Nae-il bursts in lugging a bag, and he realizes, “It was Flutterfeet.” Cute.

Nae-il proudly shows the orchestra the “uniforms” she ran home to retrieve: T-shirts bearing an “S” on the chest. Yoo-jin tells the orchestra to leave him out of it, but Nae-il makes a special plea, since she decorated his especially. Glitter! Pwahaha. He turns her down flat.

Il-lac’s Dad and Nae-il wait in the audience with bated breath, and then behind them an out-of-place father sits down too. Aw, is it Mini Dad?

When Yoo-jin joins them, he notices that the orchestra has sheet music, and Il-lac sheepishly admits that he felt they needed it after all, which cracks me up. After that big to-do? I suppose the important thing is that they gave their trust to Yoo-jin.

Noting that Yoo-jin is the only one to come dressed formally in his suit, Streseman harrumphs that that he’s got no sense of fun (which earns him another death glare from Mom). The snooty faculty head (I’m unclear on her exact title), however, approves of Yoo-jin as being the only normal one. Clearly she, like Teacher Do, is a big proponent of the conventional.

And then Yoo-jin shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, revealing that he’s wearing his shirt too—with the glittery S worn on the back to face the audience. Aw, I love it! In flashback, we see him noticing Nae-il’s bandaged finger from sewing the shirts herself, and that sealed the deal.

There’s a bit of telepathy flying around as the musicians prepare to begin, as Yoo-jin assures his orchestra that they’ll be fine if they play without regrets. “Let’s have fun,” he thinks, using the same words he’d used before his piano duet with Nae-il.

They begin. Yoo-jin narrates for us the character of Beethoven’s 3rd Symphony’s first movement, all power and energy, and the performance perfectly captures the feeling. The audience is rapt, the doubters look surprised, and Nae-il marvels at how Yoo-jin has managed to captivate everyone. The A Orchestra conductor watches as well, looking uneasy.

The orchestra plays on and nears the finish, and Yoo-jin explains Beethoven’s struggle with his deteriorating hearing, and how he overcame that despair—feelings evinced in the symphony’s final movement.

As the music builds to a crest, Il-lac shoots Yoo-jin a sly wink. With a laugh, Yoo-jin thinks at him, “You’re really going to do it?” Il-lac thought-replies, “You said let’s have fun.”

The moment arrives, and everyone thinks in unison, “NOW!” So Yoo-jin signals the violins, and they shoot their instruments into the air, chins tilted way up. Sure it looks ridiculous, but the audience enjoys it. With a flourish, Yoo-jin brings the symphony to a close.

They earn a standing ovation, and Yoo-jin thinks, “Now I understand why the maestro chose these guys, why he made Yoo Il-lac the leader. Hearts that enjoy music. These guys have the biggest weapon in the world. Each and every one of them is Seol Nae-il.”

The disdainful faculty leader even says to Teacher Do disbelievingly, “I thought you said they were bottom-rate.” Teacher Do answers, “They were. What in the world has changed them?”

Despite the initial excitement, Nae-il starts to feel uncertain, growing subdued as she says, “I feel strange. Orabang is so big and far away.”

The A Orchestra can hear the wild reception from inside, and now it’s their turn to feel dismayed. They suppose that the success is all Yoo-jin’s doing, which makes their own conductor, Seung-oh, pipe up defensively that they’re just getting pity applause. He tells his orchestra grimly to show ’em what they’ve got.

The S Orchestra heads back to the rehearsal room in a festive mood, though Yoo-jin wonders at Nae-il’s absence and goes looking for her. Il-lac’s dad pops by, a blubbery mess of pride and love for his son’s awesome showing. I love this duo.

Min-hee finds her father outside, thrilled that he made it after all. Mini Dad had been as proud as the rest of them, but now his stone face is back in place as he complains about her music being a money suck, still wanting her to quit. She hangs her head apologetically, but he gruffly holds out a bouquet of flowers and says, “It sounded really nice. That’s why you can’t quit.”

That tiny gesture is enough to revive her spirits, and she calls after Dad to eat well and take care of himself. Mini Dad just waves her off brusquely. Gah, he is such a Korean dad and it kills me. In a good way, sort of.

Now for the A Orchestra. Conductor Seung-oh leads, his narration giving us the background of Dvorak’s New World Symphony as they begin playing. They sound beautiful, but right away Seung-oh starts to get inside his own head, second-guessing his choices. “Cha Yoo-jin would do this more grandly, wouldn’t he?” he thinks, and thus begins the unraveling.

The musicians pick up on Seung-oh’s lapse, wondering why he’s losing a grip on the pace. Streseman can tell what’s wrong: “He saw Yoo-jin conducting.”

Seung-oh plows on, alternately too frantic and too plodding, all the while despairing that he’s lost his hold. Ack, this is a musician’s nightmare, being consciously locked inside a bad performance. It’s almost like Seung-oh is fighting with his players, who are meanwhile urging him to get a grip.

By the time the New World is over, everyone knows it was a mess. And talk about pity applause. Streseman notes, “The thing about talent is, it makes fools of effort and time.”

Feeling unexpectedly melancholy, Nae-il retreats to a practice studio. But her fingers won’t play today, stopped by some inexplicable emotion.

The kindly Teacher Ahn finds her and clues in to her mood, guessing at the reason. He suggests that if she wants to play with Yoo-jin, she has to study more seriously, to match her talent. Nae-il reminds him that he’d told her that playing music with enjoyment is the most important thing, and that’s what she’s doing.

Teacher Ahn suggests going out for competitions, but that word spurs a knee-jerk response in Nae-il, and she bursts out that she won’t do them. She argues that she’s going to be a kindergarten teacher and play piano with the kids—but Teacher Ahn asks if that’s really true, “Or is it that you want to keep playing the piano, even if that’s the only way?”

Gently, he says that she can’t live as a child forever. Nae-il blinks back tears, voice trembling as she asks a little defensively, “Living as a child forever—what’s so bad about that?”

Nae-il brings out the handpuppets for solace, and play-acts Yoo-jin Rabbit comforting Nae-il Rabbit. The real Yoo-jin snatches the dolls before they can kiss (Nae-il: “I was making them hug”), then takes her hand to pull the bandage off her finger.

Armed with antiseptic, he treats her fingertip and blows on it when it stings. For a moment Nae-il looks at him feeling bashful, but then she adds that her lips are injured and asks for him to treat those, too. Yoo-jin: “Go to the hospital.”

Nae-il rests her head on his shoulder, and he doesn’t push her away.

The faculty gathers for a vote, and acknowledges that S Orchestra had the better performance. Teacher Do admits this but points out that the A Orchestra is the more skilled one, and Streseman backs him up: “But the audience merely chose the orchestra they enjoyed, not the one that was more skilled.”

However, there’s a surprise in the results: The two orchestras are tied with three votes each (the audience vote counts as one), and that means one faculty member has abstained: Streseman. So he becomes the tiebreaker. If ever there were someone whose hands you didn’t want to put your fate in…

The orchestras wait anxiously for their faculty advisers to announce the results. It starts ominously, with Teacher Ahn saying, “I don’t know how to tell you this…” He explains that Streseman was the deciding vote… and he ran away. HAHA.

A frustrated Mina wails to herself at Streseman’s antics, clutching the note he left telling her he’s off to a music festival.

No matter for the S Orchestra, who celebrate anyway at Il-lac’s dad’s restaurant, where Yoo-jin leads them in a toast. They wonder what happens with Streseman gone, and whether both orchestras will get to remain intact, and even suggest that they prefer to have Yoo-jin conducting.

Yoo-jin gets a call from the ex-girlfriend, Do-kyung, who was at the performance and was impressed at his achievement. She invites him out to drinks (and is shocked to hear he’s out with the rest of the orchestra), turning down rival conductor Seung-oh’s invitation. He’s fallen in her estimation after today’s showing, and she says that she wants only the best: “And if I can’t be the best, I have to at least stand next to the best.” Damn, that’s cold. We’re not supposed to like her even a little, are we?

Things get drunker at the orchestra party, where the members bicker and mock-fight cutely about whose instrument is the best. Then Do-kyung joins them and brings the fun screeching to a halt.

Nae-il, Min-hee, and Su-min shoot her dirty glares and stew impotently when she joins them. Nae-il and Su-min dart forward to claim Yoo-jin, and Nae-il huffs to the intruder, “I’m sorry, but I am orabang’s wife. I believe you have just been rude.” Sometimes the direct route is best! Yoo-jin has to pry her off him.

But Yoo-jin makes friendly conversation with Do-kyung and doesn’t readily notice when Nae-il quietly takes her bag and walks away, hurt. When he realizes that she’s gone, he wonders why but isn’t particularly concerned.

After leaving the party, Nae-il takes out her hurt on the whack-a-mole machine, and then pets a mole’s head and apologizes for hitting it.

Yoo-jin notices Do-kyung coughing (…faking faker) and suggests they leave before she catches cold. But it’s a relief that his concern is purely friendly, as he shakes off Do-kyung’s arm and draws the line between them. Saying that he’s just doing this as her ex-boyfriend, he goes on without her.

At home, Nae-il thinks of almost kissing Yoo-jin when he was asleep, and how he blew on her finger, and wonders why her emotions are acting up: “I see him every day, but why am I feeling this way?”

She imagines hearing his voice calling her name, and shakes her head furiously: “No, I’m just Seollebal [Flutterfeet] to him, not Seol Nae-il!”

And then his voice actually calls out her name from her door, but when he gets no response, Yoo-jin just supposes she’s not home.

The drunk orchestra heads out for Round 2, at which point Min-hee excuses herself. The oboe-clarinet duo are smitten with her simultaneously, wondering when she became so pretty. They’re cute in a silly sort of way; I won’t quite call them Dumb and Dumber… yet.

Il-lac stops his crew before they get to the pojangmacha, spotting A Orchestra’s concertmistress Shi-won drinking alone there. He suggests that his crew drink at a nicer place today, then sends them on while sneaking off to join Shi-won’s table instead.

She’s feeling moody after the defeat today—they didn’t technically lose, but as Il-lac points out, they all know the S Orchestra were the victors today. She acknowledges that they were good and wishes they could have another match-up, because her orchestra would treat it more seriously instead of being arrogant about winning.

Love must be in the air, because il-lac is suddenly struck with Shi-won’s charm, and smiles after her dopily. Well, more dopily than normal.

The next day finds Nae-il still depressed, and Teacher Ahn is surprised when she isn’t jumping for joy to hear that Yoo-jin will be arriving soon. She hastily excuses herself, and asked to explain her reaction, she says that she can’t really face him right now. Teacher Ahn just chuckles, saying that it’s “that time.” For love, I presume he means.

Nae-il puzzles over his meaning, then scurries to hide out of sight of Yoo-jin. Even though she can’t face him, she still smiles in relief to see him, albeit from afar.

Yoo-jin arrives for his lesson with Teacher Ahn, who eyes him knowingly and comments on how nice it is to be in spring. Yoo-jin says blankly, “But it’s autumn.” Ha. I love that he’s speaking in metaphors and nobody knows it.

Yoo-jin asks about transferring to the conducting department, just as Teacher Do bursts in, indignant over more of Streseman’s work. It’s for the upcoming music festival, which is a storied and prestigious event for the top musical students in the country, with workshops and the like. Streseman will be there, and he’s submitted a completely ridiculous list of students to participate in the master class: Yoo-jin, Il-lac, Su-min, and the fart song girl herself, Nae-il.

Teacher Do refuses to allow a coveted spot in the class taken up by her. Just then, he gets a text from the maestro himself (who’s been named “Damned Old Man” in his phone). It’s essentially a bribe (or a threat?): Streseman will tell him who was playing that piano version of Beethoven’s 3rd if Teacher Do accepts the master class list.

We know that Nae-il was the pianist in question, and so does Yoo-jin, who takes note when he hears that Teacher Do has been searching for the identity of that student.

Nae-il interviews for a job a Mom’s coffee shop, and Mom recognizes her name and barrages her with questions—what her parents do, where she’s from, that sort of thing. The prospective daughter-in-law questioning has Nae-il confused, though Mom waves it off as the usual interview stuff.

Nae-il trudges home feeling blue, and wonders why her apartment is so clean. She sighs that she’s seeing hallucinations now… only to have Yoo-jin actually answer back. He’s sitting at her table, folding laundry and chiding her for accumulating so much junk.

She protests his unauthorized entry to her place (using the passcode that’s identical to his own, ha), which he counters with her history of trespassing. She says that was just so she could take care of him, and sighs that Do-kyung will probably be taking on that role now.

Yoo-jin replies that Do-kyung wouldn’t do that for an ex-boyfriend, and just like that, all is right with Nae-il’s world again. She picks up the hand muffler he brought her (which looks like a stuffed toy) and asks if it’s a “love gift.” He says he picked it up like it’s something he found lying on the ground, though he’s clearly trying to sound casual about it, which I love. He tells her to use it to take better care of her hands, and Nae-il happily agrees.

Yoo-jin informs Nae-il about the music festival, but she’s more occupied with the idea that she’s involved in a “some” kind of relationship (Korean slang for a flirty romance), and sings Soyou and Junggigo’s “Some” to herself. LOL. She doesn’t care about festivals, and rather than argue, he just reverse-psychologies her by saying that she can stay behind while he goes. Naturally, she’s suddenly ALL about the music festival.

Our main quartet drives down to attend the festival, and the other three see this as jolly good times while Yoo-jin is the only one who treats the event with the appropriate level of respect (and attendant stress).

So while he’s sleeping, the friends decide he needs a detour to loosen up—and he awakens from his nap to find that they’re at a water park, with Nae-il holding out the skimpiest speedo ever. He refuses to join them in the water, but Il-lac locks them out of the car, and Yoo-jin has no choice but to follow.

The three stooges splash around in the water park, while Yoo-jin remains curiously offscreen. This is unacceptable, because now I have this unrelenting curiosity about that awful speedo.

He doesn’t change his mind, though, and the others decide to take matters into their own hands to make some “good memories” for him. They find him listening to his hypnotherapy recordings, and Nae-il pretends that they’ve given up and want to head to the festival now. A relieved Yoo-jin totally misses the devilish glint in their eyes.

But then, we cut to Yoo-jin’s mother back in Seoul, worrying that the festival is near the ocean. What if he triggers that trauma relating to his old accident? Aie! Mom’s oppa drops by (I’m assuming it’s her biological brother, so let’s say Yoo-jin’s uncle) and sighs about his talents going to waste—no matter how much he conducts in Korea, he can’t make it big if he can’t leave. He suggests that Yoo-jin come work under him, wanting to leave his company in trustworthy hands, even if Yoo-jin says he isn’t interested in any work other than conducting.

At the water park, Yoo-jin is walking toward the exit when his friends suddenly push him into the pool, sure that this will lighten his mood. Seeing him splashing around, they figure he’s having fun in the water, not seeing that he’s gasping for air and flailing in a panic.

He’s thrown back to a childhood memory of being thrown around in the sea, so overcome that he doesn’t even think to stand. Honestly, he’s taller than the water level, which is why Il-lac doesn’t think anything’s wrong, but Yoo-jin’s locked in his trauma and his body goes lifeless.

“My body… won’t move,” he thinks, sinking to the bottom. “Have I fallen into the sea again? Will I die like this?”

 
COMMENTS

Aw, this episode made me happy. I do find Cantabile Tomorrow to be very loose and maybe even a little messy, which normally would make a drama harder to watch for me. Slice-of-life stories are one thing, but meandering ones do try my patience. But here, I like the characters so much (and love the use of the music—though I still think they could do more with it!) and often find a silly grin has worked its way onto my face, and that makes this a nice pleasant watch for me.

That isn’t to say that the plotting is bad, because I like how the disparate threads are coming together in a thought-out way, such as with the simultaneous trajectories of Nae-il and Yoo-jin. It’s really satisfying for me to watch Yoo-jin’s bond growing with Nae-il in a way that isn’t even explicitly romantic. Of course I’m rooting for that to develop in its own time, but right now he’s curious about her as a person, as a musical talent, as an emotional being. She’s different from him in every which way, but he likes her as she is, and not expressly because he’s attracted to her.

I’ll never argue that romances with intense attraction are something I want less of, but this is a case where I don’t think this story works as well if they were both immediately attracted to each other. Or, I suppose to be more accurate, if Yoo-jin saw Nae-il through that lens. I love the moments of personal insight and interior monologue that we get into the characters’ minds, and in that regard it feels like Cantabile Tomorrow is something of a musical and emotional coming-of-age story.

So it’s gratifying to see Yoo-jin appreciating Nae-il and missing her when she’s gone, because even though she’s merely a mascot, she has a genuine place in this orchestra. I liked seeing the other orchestra members reacting to Nae-il’s reaction at the party, when they all clocked her hurt feelings at Do-kyung’s arrival. Whether they knew it or not, she became part of them, and hence the pouty glares that got sent Yoo-jin’s way on her behalf. Super sweet.

But even better than merely Yoo-jin’s trajectory drawing him closer to Nae-il is hers that pushes herself away from him. We saw a glimpse of that previously when she was scared off by her feelings for him, and that gets compounded now with this idea of Yoo-jin somehow growing too big that he’ll leave her orbit. She doesn’t even “have” him right now, but he’s part of her life and part of her circle, and she’s content so long as she always gets to be with him. But the idea of someone who’s accessible growing suddenly inaccessible? It’s too frightening to consider.

How poignant that she feels this at the very moment that he’s drawing nearer to her. It’s great to see that he isn’t above taking the step forward, though, because after not seeing her for a full day he goes to seek her out, cleaning up her place in a domestic gesture that I find thematically significant. Nae-il has been referring to herself as his wife, and she defends her constant interference as wifely care. So then he returns the gesture with spouse-like care, even though I doubt he even realizes this.

Nae-il’s fear, I think, is part and parcel of a greater fear, and one that exists outside of Yoo-jin. It’s just Yoo-jin who highlights the conflict and brings it front and center—this feeling that Nae-il is purposely hiding her talent away because she’s afraid of… losing something, or growing attached… or maybe simply failure. I love the scene with Teacher Ahn gently prodding her, not letting her go too easily with the excuse she’s constructed for herself. She says she wants to teach children and is focused on her silly fart song, but today even she didn’t sound confident about her reasons.

While I don’t advocate people forcing goals upon others that don’t come from within that person, I don’t think that quite applies to Nae-il, whose resistance seems to conflict with her desires, not support them. If her dream were to teach, there’d be no cause for defensiveness or tears, and she must realize that. I don’t know if she understood that before Teacher Ahn shone that light directly on the issue, but now that things have been framed in such a way, it’ll be hard to keep pushing it away. I mean, she can try, just as Yoo-jin does to her, but I think we’re rooting for both of them to fail on those fronts.

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