Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 10

by javabeans

Lots of satisfying moments in this episode, with the gang reunited and ready to make music together. With new goals come new challenges, and it’s Nae-il’s turn to buck up and challenge herself to grow, even if the process is uncomfortable. It’s gratifying to see the effort these characters put into trying to grow despite the setbacks that come along the way, because at least the pain that comes with advancement is better than living in arrested development.

SONG OF THE DAY

Rachmaninoff – Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor – I. Moderato [ Download ]

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

 
LESSON 10 RECAP

Audition hall. After arriving to an empty auditorium, the judges receive word that there are students prepared to audition after all. Teacher Ahn is pleased at this sign that the boycott issue was resolved, while Teacher Do sniffs that an S Orchestra student is still going to fail, considering that judging will purely be based on ability.

Yoo-jin and Nae-il arrive just in time for the first solo, recognizing Il-lac immediately. While he plays, Il-lac’s mind is full of Nae-il’s earlier reminder of everything Yoo-jin had done for them. In this case, Yoo-jin’s actions speak louder than his words (in that he offered no words). As Yoo-jin watches anxiously, Nae-il reaches out and takes his hand in a reassuring gesture.

The A Orchestra members are also alerted to the end of the boycott, but Shi-won is confused to see that many are skipping auditions anyway. The others say that they got what they needed out of the orchestra—namely, the ability to put it on their credentials—and now they’re all going to focus on their soloist ambitions.

It’s kind of sweet to think that Shi-won naively gave them more credit than that, but now she realizes that Yoo-jin had a point about the orchestra just being boxes to tick off on their resumés. Well, it won’t stop her from going to the auditions.

Teacher Do wrestles with conflicting thoughts as he listens to the auditions. He clearly recognizes who’s playing, which makes me wonder what the point is of making this “blind” when the blindness is ineffectual. Ah, well, let’s go with it.

In any case, Teacher Do doesn’t understand the difference between his expectations and the reality sitting in front of him (psst, the word you’re looking for is prejudice), while Teacher Ahn notes that they’ve all undergone tremendous improvement. Having performed twice now, he says, their skills have grown by leaps and bounds.

Teacher Do may be prejudiced and haughty, but I’m relieved to see that when confronted with the actual music, he can give due credit. For instance, A Orchestra trumpeter Jae-yong puts in a competent audition, but Teacher Do hears that he’s mimicking his teacher’s style to a tee: “There’s no growth, and no future hope. He’ll probably perform his whole life the way he plays in his lessons.”

Yoo-jin joins a pensive Teacher Do afterward, who asks whether Yoo-jin’s purpose in creating the new orchestra was to chase away A Orchestra applicants who’d be too prideful to stay. Yoo-jin says no—his motive was to get Teacher Do to actually listen to the S Orchestra players. He adds that Dean Mina had been the one to suggest him as a judge, having full faith in his judgment in scoring. So Yoo-jin in turn trusted that Teacher Do would be fair once he listened.

The members of both orchestras line up and eye each other tensely as they await the results. Okay, now the Romeo & Juliet music cracks me up, given Il-lac’s dramatics about being star-crossed across orchestra lines. When the list is posted, students rush to check for their names, and our S Orchestra members squeal wildly to find that they’ve all made it.

Il-lac is immediately humbled to recall Yoo-jin’s words about believing in them, and he’s moved to tears.

The list includes a fair number of former A Orchestra members, although making the cut doesn’t make them much happier. Trumpet player Jae-yong sniffs that he’ll just “half-ass” things till he goes abroad… until he registers that he’s second chair. His jaw drops. Muahaha, that feels good.

The school board chairwoman is furious that several prominent students were cut, and expresses her disappointment in Teacher Do. He replies that he was fair, however, and that he would have cut S Orchestra members if they’d performed poorly. He declares, “I am a teacher. I don’t play around with scores.” It doesn’t endear him to the chairwoman, and he sighs that his hopes of being made university dean just went poof. But at least you have your soul!

Yoo-jin smiles at a text from Nae-il asking if she can join him to eat, although his response is a customarily gruff “Don’t bug me” text. But never say he doesn’t learn from past mistakes, because he catches himself and reconsiders, changing his response to a simple okay. Nae-il lights up to read it.

Il-lac joins him in the lounge, a little tentative as he speaks up: “Tell me. Say that this time and last time, you were acting for our sake. That you weren’t ditching us for being bottom-rate. Then I’ll believe you.”

Yoo-jin says, “I’m sorry. Back then, I should have had faith in you guys and gone with you. I tried to solve it on my own.”

Well, that’s all it takes, and Il-lac scoots close and throws an arm around Yoo-jin’s shoulder, declaring, “Let’s never be apart again.” I love him so much. And even that’s not fervent enough for him, because he thinks of a stronger way to prove his friendship and suggests a blood pledge. While Il-lac looks around for a needle or sharp stabby object, Yoo-jin hurriedly packs up his things and escapes, telling Il-lac to get bloody on his own.

Nae-il arrives outside Yoo-jin’s door and has to calm herself down from the excitement, telling herself that it’s “only food.” There’s no answer and she can’t let herself in because he changed his door code, which makes her wistful for the days when they had the same code and it felt like they were spouses living in the same space. But wouldn’tcha know, the old number she punches in idly actually opens the door, because Yoo-jin the huge marshmallow (in armadillo disguise) changed it back.

Inside, Nae-il finds all her old things back where she’d left them, and we see that Yoo-jin had gone around putting her belongings back in their places. Ah, so that’s what he meant last time when he tried to explain what he’d done with her things and she assumed he’d thrown them out. Of course Yoo-jin downplays this now, but Nae-il knows what’s up, and that’s what I care about.

Yoo-jin’s mother gets a call that first makes her scoff, and then raises her hackles in alarm. So now the absentee father wants to come back and roleplay Dad? Getting very serious, Mom tells him strongly not to do “that.”

Filling in the blank spots for us is a flashback to Yoo-jin’s childhood, when he’d excitedly told his father about a competition he was going out for. Icy Dad (Jung Bo-seok) had barely spared him a glance, saying that there was no value in him watching his son play anywhere but the best stage. This turns out to be a memory that Yoo-jin dreams, and he awakens wondering at the sudden thoughts of his father, with whom he’s been estranged for years.

He arrives at the rehearsal room to a happier surprise, with the new members assembled and ready to work. Il-lac presents the name they’ve dubbed themselves, the Rising Star Orchestra, and the ex-S Orchestra members are particularly happy to be back, suggesting a celebratory party afterward.

The A members are a bit sour, but at least they’re here. For now, at least, because they have lessons and other commitments that require them to cut out early. Yoo-jin explains that it’s a little early to be naming themselves anything since they are still awaiting official school approval, but agrees that they’ll have to pick a piece for their first performance, which Dean Mina will be lining up.

Nae-il is drags Yoo-jin to the restaurant afterward, insisting that Yoo-jin come to a welcome-back party and telling him that Il-lac has gifted him with a lifetime coupon to eat for free. Things get immediately awkward when he sees that Yoon-hoo is there with his friends, however, and it makes him stiff(er than usual).

It’s amusing because Yoon-hoo knows it’s awkward but he feigns complete ignorance to Yoo-jin’s grumpiness, saying cheerfully that he’s got a lifetime coupon too. Yoo-jin gripes that Il-lac must be giving those away like candy. Su-min starts to chime in, but gets shut down by Il-lac, who insists that only two people in the world have them: his bestest bestie Yoo-jin, and his good friend Yoon-hoo.

I actually love this interchange because Yoon-hoo is totally aware, and his friendliness only makes Yoo-jin crankier. So Yoo-jin excuses himself from the party, which causes Nae-il to hurry after him, and of course Yoon-hoo follows suit.

And so, the trio walks home too—ha, Yoo-jin can’t even storm off in peace. Yoon-hoo keeps up his cheerful face until he gets home, where he sighs, “I thought I was almost there, but now things are back to the beginning.” Then he grips his injured hand tightly, his face crumpling in pain.

Nae-il encourages Yoo-jin to be nicer to Yoon-hoo, who was really good to their crew while he was apart from the orchestra. Miffed, Yoo-jin asks jealously whose side she’d take in a fight, and immediately realizes how petty that sounds and cancels the question. But Nae-il answers anyway, “I’d take your side,” and he smiles.

Yoo-jin picks out a song to show her, and they sit there listening to Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2. (Aieeeeee, they’re doing it after all!) Yoo-jin muses on what it would be like to have Nae-il perform it, liking the idea of them performing it together. (Aieeeee!)

She likes the idea, and he says that if she gets more serious about her playing, they could do it sometime. They sit there smiling at each other for a few moments, until the intimacy spooks her and she hurriedly takes her leave. But she pauses outside his door, hand to fluttering heart, thrilling at the moment.

Streseman calls again to remind Yoo-jin of his promise to talk to Mina for him, put out that it’s taking so long. He’s glad that his contract is coming to an end soon, after which he can come back and work his way into her good graces.

Streseman hears the Rachmaninoff playing in the background and asks if it’s his selection, and whether he’s got a pianist yet. He tells Yoo-jin to go ahead with this concerto and offers up a pianist for the part—one who’ll be equally difficult for the chairwoman to accept or reject.

Which explains the new character we next meet, a sharply dressed and scary-looking young lady heading to the Haneum campus in taxi. She’s reading a classical music magazine and takes particular note of the story on Yoo-jin, highlighting his distinction as Streseman’s sole pupil.

Busy in study mode, Yoo-jin reviews the score and muses to Nae-il that it’ll be difficult getting the A and S members to work together, because their styles are so different. Nae-il offers up advice from a book she’s reading, saying that first they have to define the relationships, and Yoo-jin agrees. HA. The book is You Can Date Too, and she’s having a different conversation.

Nae-il explains that they’ve passed through Steps 1 and 2 (green light, flirting) and are now ready for Step 3: Dating. Yoo-jin snatches the book away and tosses it, telling her to study music instead of books like this. But then Nae-il orders him to retrieve the book for her and he does, which pretty much tells you all about their relationship, doesn’t it?

Nae-il is insistent on doing as the book tells her, and directs Yoo-jin to change her name in his phone from Flutterfeet to Fluttering ♥. (Both are puns on her name, since Seol Nae-il sounds like seol-le-im.) First of all, I love that he’s actually trying instead of shutting her down, and secondly, that they’re following an advice book that’s meant to help a single person start dating, not a couple who can just bypass the book entirely and just, you know, date.

Yoo-jin cringes at the Fluttering ♥, but she wheedles until he complies. You’d think she’d asked him to cut off a finger from the way he struggles to type in the letters, and he can’t bring himself to add the heart. So Nae-il snatches the phone away to add the hearts herself and requests twice-daily calls, “to build up affection.” So saith the book.

The scary new girl arrives on campus, and Nae-il recognizes her as a famous pianist, Sohn Su-ji (Bebop idol Ahyeon). She interrupts a meeting between Dean Mina and the angry chairwoman (who’s refusing to approve the new orchestra), and Su-ji has enough name recognition that the chairwoman is immediately deferential.

Su-ji announces that she was brought here by Streseman’s personal request and has a reporter in tow, who asks for a photograph with Su-jin and the maestro. But Su-ji realizes that Streseman brought her here under false assurances, and just as quickly storms out.

The chairwoman envisions the possibilities flashing before her with such a famous musician in their midst and scrambles to prevent her departure. So she blurts out the promise to bring Streseman right away, placating Su-ji.

Thus Streseman returns to campus, and the green light is given to the orchestra to perform with Su-ji. Yoo-jin makes the announcement to his orchestra, who greet the news with excitement. (Is that a flicker of jealousy from Shi-won when Il-lac fanboys over Su-ji’s arrival?) He reminds them that they’ll have to prepare well because Su-ji’s presence will bring media attention.

Nae-il dodges more lessons with Teacher Do, who is still valiantly trying to get her back into the practice studio. She manages to run away yet again, and Teacher Do sighs that at this rate she’ll miss all the competitions this year. Which is her intention, I’m sure.

Nae-il meets Yoon-hoo for their practice, and he asks her to sign a form—he wants them to play their duet along with the orchestra in the next performance. Nae-il immediately declines, falling back on her defense of playing only for fun in practices, to which he says disappointedly that he wants to play for other people. What’s the point in a performance without an audience?

He hides his painkiller prescription from Nae-il, but afterward in the bathroom he fights back cries of agony, clutching his hand.

Su-ji meets with Streseman and makes it clear that she agreed to the performance only because it was his request. She has her eye on someone else to conduct, however, and asks about Yoo-jin.

Yoo-jin is called to join them, and Su-ji gives him the once-over and says haughtily that he’s a square—a type she dislikes. He returns simply, “You’re not a type I like either.”

Streseman suggests that they do a preliminary run-through, so Su-ji plays while Yoo-jin studies her performance. That’s how Nae-il finds them, the sight of their collaboration making her heart sink. She recalls Yoo-jin wanting to perform this piece with her—and how “if you get more serious about your playing,” it might happen in the future. “That’s my spot,” she thinks, watching Su-ji play.

It also makes her think back to Streseman’s warning that neither time nor Yoo-jin would wait for her, and Nae-il feels that keenly now. So she agrees to perform with Yoon-hoo after all, promising to work hard and thinking hopefully that she won’t tremble onstage the way she did as a child. Yoon-hoo says encouragingly, “Of course, you’re an adult now.”

In orchestra rehearsal, Yoo-jin goes over notes with Shi-won, and the disgruntled A Orchestra guys use that to pick a fight with Yoo-jin, complaining that he’s wasting their rehearsal time on private coaching. Jae-yong takes a swipe at the bottom-rate S Orchestra, firing up Il-lac, who argues right back.

Yoo-jin has no patience for the quibbling and tells them all that they can practice once the fighting is done. Until then, there will be no orchestra practices.

The chairwoman, who is frankly getting a whole lotta screentime for someone who doesn’t even have a name, is still intent on bringing down the orchestra, though she’s employing a different strategy this time. She smirks that hothouse plants will feel the bite of the wind once they lose their hothouse, and says, “We’ll wait… until they fall on their own.”

Thus comes the decision not to give the Rising Stars any school funding, which means they’ll be forced to cancel the performance. This is a big deal to Shi-won and her friends, who can’t fathom how to function without support, while the S Orchestra kids just shrug that it’s not like they ever got any money. Il-lac suggests handling things themselves, and his buddies cheerily agree to figure out costumes, food, and performance details on their own.

Shi-won and her A Orchestra friends hesitantly go along with the plan, but they’re thrown by every obstacle that crops up. For instance, because the Rising Stars haven’t gotten official approval yet, their performance won’t get them excused from classes or exams, so they’re still on the hook for full coursework. And that cuts into all their time, leaving no time to practice.

I love that the S Orchestra’s response is basically, “Uh, you can just do it, you know.” The A Orchestra is lost without the coddling they used to get, but the S kids didn’t even know that those exemptions existed. They shrug that they can juggle their responsibilities as before and just sleep in classes. Ha. Once again, Shi-won & Co. find themselves agreeing, more because of the S crew’s confidence than anything. And Yoo-jin observes with a smile as they work things out together.

Nae-il and Yoon-hoo work hard on their duet as well, although Yoon-hoo starts getting pretty intense in practices. Nae-il remains cheerful and is happy about their fast progress, but Yoon-hoo curtly asks them to focus on their playing and doesn’t even realize that they’ve been at it for hours.

It’s Yoo-jin who interrupts, pointing out that he’s been overworking Nae-il
duet work. It’s a reversal of their dynamic, where now it’s Yoo-jin reminding Yoon-hoo to treat her thoughtfully instead of the other way around.

When Yoo-jin asks why she went along with Yoon-hoo’s demanding practices, she answers that she wants to work hard and perform properly—without a mask or costume this time. She says, “If I just don’t tremble, I can do a good job.”

He looks encouraged, but I’m unsettled at Nae-il’s need to assure herself repeatedly that she’ll be fine. “It’ll be okay. Because it’s not a competition. It’s just a festival, so I can enjoy myself.”

Everyone pours in the hours into their practices, Yoo-jin and the orchestra on the Rachmaninoff concerto, and Nae-il on her duet. Finally, performance day arrives, and Yoo-jin and Nae-il meet outside their doors to head out together.

He notes that she looks confident, and she jokes that he’s blindingly beautiful. Then she grabs his hand and asks, “We’re standing together on the same stage today, aren’t we?” He replies, “Yes, even if it’s separately.”

She says, “Next time, we’ll be able to stand together.” He agrees that if she does well, people will remember her name.

But it’s not looking good for poor Yoon-hoo, who finds an empty room to duck into, clutching his hand in pain. “Hang in there, just for today,” he tells himself. “For today. No, just half the day. I only need four hours.”

As Nae-il gets ready, Min-hee encourages her to crush Su-ji’s performance. They cheer each other on, and then Nae-il’s excitement turns into anxiousness. No, don’t get nervous now! I’m getting a sinking feeling about this…

Dean Mina is more nervous about the Rising Stars than Yoo-jin, alternately trying not to pressure him while also impressing upon him how important this performance is in getting the group approved. Thank goodness Yoo-jin is calmer, and he assures Mina that they’ll do a good job.

He transfers that sense of calm to his excited orchestra, who note how extra-confident he seems today. “Of course,” he replies. “I’m confident in my instruments.” Pause to awww.

His words give everyone an extra surge of positive vibes, and they declare that they don’t need to worry as long as they follow Yoo-jin.

The nerves are mounting for Nae-il, who tells herself in her mirror, “It’s okay, that was when you were young—now, it’ll be okay.” She’s working too hard to work to convince herself that this isn’t terrifying for her, and it doesn’t look like the pep talks are doing their job.

And then, one more wrench gets thrown into the works. Mom receives word that her husband is coming to see Yoo-jin perform, but rather than being cause for optimism, this is a Very Bad Thing for him. She explains to Mina that Dad bears the blame for making Yoo-jin’s plane and sea phobias worse, damn him and his exacting perfectionism.

His presence could really do a number on Yoo-jin’s state of mind, so Mom heads out determined to block him. But Dad is already on the way, as Yoo-jin prepares to take the stage…

 
COMMENTS

First off, what a relief it is to have Yoo-jin back with his buddies. Considering how his relationships with both Nae-il and Il-lac started off on comedic footing, it’s such a nice development to see how much both mean to Yoo-jin, and how empty his life was (and his apartment) when he was cut out of the loop. I felt a visceral sense of relief to have that tension ebb away and those relationships repaired, because they’re at their best together.

I was thrilled with the use of the Rachmaninoff piano concerto, having thought it wouldn’t get used since the Grieg was used for Yoo-jin’s solo. But then they introduced it in this episode and I squealed pretty hard, especially when I saw what they were doing thematically with it—to use it as one more catalyst in spurring Nae-il’s self-motivation and in being the bridge that connects them musically.

I was momentarily upset when they then gave the concerto to some mean-looking new girl to perform instead, since I’d be hard-pressed to care less about this Su-ji chick who seems like the worst version of the A Orchestra snob. But I concede that in bringing Su-ji in, I felt the same indignant pang that Nae-il does when she sees them practicing together—that sense of No, that’s mine! So I feel Nae-il’s renewed determination on a gut level, and I’m rooting for her so much to pull through and defeat her inner demons.

Speaking of which, I am glad that the conflict that’s on the horizon is really about Nae-il overcoming herself, rather than an external conflict where she has to be better than Su-ji to win her man, or something dumb like that. And Yoo-jin’s line struck me when he said that they would get to stand together onstage, albeit in separate performances, because it seems significant to make them stand separately before they stand together. Nae-il has found the drive to confront her fears now, but she hasn’t actually resolved the issue yet. I’m worried that her personal crisis is coming at the same time that Yoon-hoo’s is, but I’m going to cling to my hopes that they’ll both make it out stronger and a tiny bit more healed.

It was an interesting realization for me to see that his return to the fold was perhaps more of a blow to Yoon-hoo than I’d expected; not even his romantic feelings for Nae-il feel as poignant as the friendships, maybe because I know his romance will be unfulfilled so that’s something I’m prepared to see. But I feel like Yoon-hoo’s built a little circle for himself here too, and I want for him to be able to keep that even if he doesn’t get the girl. He and Yoo-jin are more similar than they’d like to admit, but I feel like they could be really meaningful friends if they didn’t manage to always push each other’s buttons. (Previously I’d have said that it was Yoon-hoo doing all the button-pushing, but as we saw in his duet rehearsal, he can get pretty intense too.) Furthermore, friendship among peers doesn’t necessitate exclusivity in the same way that a romance does (as in, a friend can have multiple friends; your girlfriend should only have one boyfriend), which means that I want Yoon-hoo to maybe lose the girl but gain lots of friends. Yoo-jin included.

This episode’s use of performances reminded me of where the show does its best work, which is when the music intertwines with the narrative, telling the story of our characters’ growth rather than just being bits of set dressing playing in the background. I find those storylines much more compelling than the question of whether the orchestra will get to stay (and therefore enjoyed the S Orchestra poking fun at the dramatics with their pragmatic responses), so I do hope the show dials down the tiresome chairwoman and her political maneuvering. I mean, who even gives a damn about anything she thinks anyway, right?

At least with Yoo-jin’s father returning to his life and potentially shaking things up in a big way, the show can turn to Yoo-jin’s traumas next, which are much more compelling than school board machinations. I mean, it sucks for Yoo-jin’s trauma, but yay for us?

RELATED POSTS

• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 9
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 8
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 7
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 6
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 5
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 4
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 3
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 2
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Classical music song list
• Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 1