Cantabile Tomorrow: Episode 9

by javabeans

There’s so much emotional growth and relationship movement in this episode, and it’s such a gratifying feeling to watch some of these smaller arcs arrive at their destinations. Our guy finds it lonely out there on his own, but also takes responsibility for his part and figures out how to bridge that gap. It doesn’t come naturally to him, but one thing I love about this character is his willingness to try. And sometimes that visible effort is worth even more than the result.

SONG OF THE DAY

Schumann – “Traumerei” [ Download ]

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LESSON 9 RECAP

Nae-il comes to Yoo-jin for comfort after running out on her lesson, where she was told Teacher Do would be her new instructor. She calms at the touch of his hand, but the effect is short-lived because Yoo-jin tells her that she needs a stern teacher to help her grow as a musician, and that she shouldn’t waste her talent. He takes a call from Teacher Do and says he’ll bring Nae-il in to her lesson, and, feeling betrayed, she withdraws her hand from his grasp.

Nae-il cries that he’s just like everyone else for forcing her when that leads to tears and pain, but Yoo-jin replies that if everyone’s saying the same thing, then she’s the one who’s wrong. He’s not mean about it, but ouch, that seems a little tone-deaf to Nae-il’s stricken reaction. She sobs, “Not being able to do as I want—you don’t know what that’s like. It’s not that I’m not doing it, it’s that I can’t. I can’t help it, and that makes it scarier. People like you don’t understand.”

But those words strike a chord and Yoo-jin thinks of his immobilizing fear of water. He tries to calm Nae-il down and suggests talking it out, but she’s too upset and tries to shake him off, thinking he’s just going to drag her off to her lesson. She drops her rag doll in the process, which gets picked up by Yoon-hoo, he of the uncanny ability to pop up to see Yoo-jin in the worst light.

Yoon-hoo calls Yoo-jin out for his continued rudeness, and Yoo-jin tells him to mind his own business. But when he reaches for Nae-il’s arm, she jerks it out of reach and shrinks back, huddling behind Yoon-hoo instead. Is it mean of me to find Yoo-jin’s hurt satisfying?

So Nae-il follows Yoon-hoo as he walks away, holding on to his arm as a lifeline, and Yoo-jin watches, feeling very discomfited.

Yoon-hoo tries to draw Nae-il out of her gloom by making small talk, and when she worries about Yoo-jin being angry with her, he tells her it’s okay to express her feelings and yell and get angry. She gets teary-eyed thinking that he won’t see her anymore, since he returned all her things and changed his door code. Yoon-hoo brushes a tear away and repeats her own words back to her: “Now it’s over, Cha Yoo-jin and you.”

Her words ring in Yoo-jin’s ears, and he surprises Teacher Do by asking him for a favor, because he’d only thought of Nae-il’s talent and not the fact that she’s a scared child who runs from things she’s afraid of: “She needs some time.”

While sitting at her piano, Nae-il envisions her childhood self sitting nearby, wishing she had no piano talent at all. Little Nae-il adds that she doesn’t like Yoo-jin for trying to send her off to Teacher Do, but Grown-up Nae-il says she can’t hide from things forever.

Little Nae-il reminds her grown-up self that she’d wanted to stay childlike, but has now changed. Nae-il says she doesn’t want Yoo-jin to see only the child in her, only to have the child point out that Yoo-jin already does, and that he never even says sorry when he’s wrong. Nae-il frets, “Does he really see me as you?” The Traumerei (Dreaming) song choice, one of Nae-il’s themes along with Liszt’s Liebestraume (Dreams of Love), is particularly poignant today, coming as it does from Schumann’s “Scenes from Childhood.”

Next door, Yoo-jin scrolls through his phone and pauses on Il-lac’s name before scoffing at himself: “Since when did you need friends?” But he watches the door restlessly, expecting Nae-il to come bursting in at any moment before remembering that he changed the code.

So when the doorbell rings, he opens with a smile to see Nae-il standing there, though all she does is ask for the rest of her things. He says he doesn’t have them, which she assumes means he threw them away, and says that Yoon-hoo was right in pegging him as a meanie. And that name makes Yoo-jin bristle.

She guesses that he doesn’t even think he did anything wrong, and he admits to being rash but starts to explain his rationale. Nae-il cuts him off to ask why he can’t just say sorry, without needing to make her understand. “I apologize every day,” she says, “even when I don’t know what’s what. Why don’t you? Am I not even worth an apology?”

She heads back to her apartment, leaving him confused and bothered.

Our core group of S Orchestra members sit around feeling increasingly dejected the longer they go without hearing about the fate of their group. They’d hoped for a positive response after the concert, but now the protracted wait has them on edge and they start sniping at each other about who has it the worst without the orchestra.

As the leader, Il-lac tries to smooth things over and cancels his violin duet practice with Shi-won to handle the spat. She’s disappointed, though she scowls at her A Orchestra friend who asks if she’s got something going with Il-lac.

She doesn’t see that Il-lac watches from afar as she leaves practice, mournfully calling them Romeo and Juliet now that their orchestra strife has torn them apart. That’s adorable. Dim, but cute. Shoulders slumped and heart aching, he stares up at the sky and wonders why it’s so black. (Dad: “It’s nighttime.”)

Dean Mina shares the decision with Yoo-jin first, wanting to give him time to prepare and possibly head off misunderstandings with the other orchestra members. Yoo-jin tells her that he’s been thinking it over, and has decided that the easiest answer is to just accept the misunderstanding. Okay, now if they’re playing “Eroica” intentionally in this scene to make him seem extra-heroic about it, I’m gonna have to roll my eyes a bit because noble idiocy drives me bonkers. Still, it’s nice of Yoo-jin to recognize that things he takes for granted are things that the S Orchestra family has to work and fight for.

Yoo-jin must know something of Mina’s past, because he says that she must understand their feelings, which is why she began this project in the first place. He says that the S Orchestra is what gave these students—people who will likely give up music once they graduate and not pursue professional careers in it—hope to continue living with music.

Dean Mina’s hopes were to help grow the hopes of those students, he guesses. “And so, let’s give it a try,” he says. “There’s no other path anyway.”

Mina gives the instruction to announce S Orchestra’s disbandment. But Yoo-jin smiles. What is your new plan?

The notice is posted and S Orchestra’s rehearsal hall is closed. Yoo-jin thinks back to the question Streseman posed, of which orchestra he would choose between the traditional and talented A Orchestra or the free-spirited and emotional S. “I’m going to find the answer to that question now,” he says. “Not alone, but together.”

The S Orchestra members slump together in front of the announcement board, crushed at this news. But then… a second notice is posted next to it—which disbands A Orchestra, too. Omo. That’s unexpected.

To explain the meaning of this, Mina gets on the loudspeaker to clarify that a new orchestra will be created in place of the disbanded ones, and Yoo-jin will be conducting.

To say this is an unpopular decision is an understatement, and Mina has to fend off faculty complaints too. But she shuts them up by putting her job on the line, saying that is this orchestra fails, she will step down from her position as dean.

Yoo-jin joins her in the staff meeting to present their case: They want to put together an orchestra that will be a brand representing the school, which possesses both the individuality characteristic of the S Orchestra as well as the technical skills of the A Orchestra. If the more skilled A Orchestra has a flaw, it’s that it’s constructed to appeal to the judges, all cold precision and lacking connection to the listener.

To keep things fair, they propose a blind audition, to be judged by both Teacher Do and Ahn. To be selected, both teachers must approve.

Neither Teacher Do nor the faculty chairwoman are on Mina’s side, but they figure that these provisions favor their side. Blind audition or not, it should be easy enough to pick out the A Orchestra members they prefer.

We get inside Yoo-jin’s head to see the orchestra he envisions as he fills the empty seats in his mind’s eye. Shi-won gets the concertmaster position, with Il-lac leading the second violins. Our main S Orchestra members all have spots, and Yoo-jin even gives first cello to Yoon-hoo… though he’d rather not look at him in his fantasy and waves him out of the vision, heh.

Yoo-jin wants to talk to his friends about the news, but they eye him distrustfully and accuse him of a process designed to drop them. He asks if they have no confidence, and Il-lac readily retorts that of course they don’t, knowing that the judging is against them from the start. Aw, it’s sweet that Yoo-jin has more confidence in them than they do, though perhaps he’s lacking the social graces to convey that in a way they understand; he just tells them to practice until they gain confidence, frustrated with the response.

Brooding to himself, Yoo-jin sighs that normally Nae-il would be running to him yelling “Sunbae!” She’s been keeping her distance, though, and he asks himself, “Is she really not going to follow me around?” He wonders what’s keeping her so busy these days.

Nae-il wraps up another part-time shift at the cafe and shares a snack with Min-hee, until Mom pops by to greet them. Suddenly uncomfortable, Nae-il excuses herself and quickly leaves, leaving Mom confused. Min-hee explains that Yoo-jin’s the cause of a lot of hurt feelings, and Mom realizes that everyone knows about their mother-son connection after the last concert.

She goes to Mina to get filled in on the situation, not thrilled that her friend has put her son into a tough situation. Mina recognizes that Yoo-jin’s stuck in a the middle of a lot of hard feelings, and almost goes too far by bringing up Yoo-jin’s father, though she stops herself short, knowing it’s a sore subject. Mom concedes that nothing compares to the hurt that Dad has given Yoo-jin, with his uber-exacting standards and disdain for anything below first place.

Yoon-hoo moves into an apartment in the same building as Yoo-jin and Nae-il, much to Yoo-jin’s disgruntlement. He ignores Yoon-hoo’s outstretched hand and grumpily heads off, grumbling to himself about Yoon-hoo’s motives in hanging around Nae-il all the time. The prospect of Yoon-hoo being interesting in Nae-il vaguely niggles at him, but he scoffs at that idea as impossible.

Yoon-hoo invites the S Orchestra crew over for a housewarming party, which Yoo-jin can hear from his lonely place upstairs. His presence isn’t entirely unnoticed—Su-min comments on it timidly—but the animosity is too strong to fathom inviting him to join in. Poor Yoo-jin and his sad, sponsored almonds.

Yoo-jin peers out over the upstairs railing when his friends leave, overhearing as they comment about Nae-il seeming “like a girl” with Yoon-hoo. Min-hee says that’s what happens when a guy treats a girl like she’s a princess.

Yoon-hoo broaches the topic of a duet with Nae-il, asking her to seriously consider it. She fidgets at the idea, asking if it’s important and smiling in relief when he says no. But then he finishes his thought that he’s not merely serious, he’s downright desperate to do it. He explains being gripped with the thought ever since he heard her playing at the music festival, and wants to play with her even more than she wants with Yoo-jin. And that’s a feeling she can relate to, her mind flashing back to how she practiced herself sick wanting to re-create his Grieg performance.

Yoo-jin is surprised by an unexpected call from Streseman, whose calls to Mina have gone unanswered. She’s still angry for the way he left, but Streseman insists that he wasn’t running away this time, and that he was dragged off against his will (…for running away last time, mind you).

Yoo-jin agrees to pass the message along to Mina, and then finds himself sharing his recent woes when Streseman clues in that something’s troubling him. Yoo-jin explains the trouble with Nae-il and her lessons, saying that it would be a waste to let her talents go undeveloped, when he wants to boast and show them off.

Streseman asks, “Why would you? Why do you want to boast?” The question literally stops Yoo-jin in his tracks.

Yoo-jin heads to the piano practice rooms, where he sees Nae-il playing. I love the beat where she smiles, and he smiles almost in involuntary response. That is, until she turns to talk to someone and he sees that there’s someone else in the room with her—Yoon-hoo.

Nae-il suggests the song she just played as their duet piece, and the look on Yoon-hoo’s face when he realizes she’s just agreed to play with him kills me a little. It’s so touched and teary.

The scene brings to mind some of the maestro’s advice: “Don’t be too late—not in expressing your emotions, or in acknowledging them.” Sometimes the kooky manchild is pretty sharp.

Shi-won tracks down Il-lac, having noticed that he’s been avoiding her. She pays little heed to his disjointed “But we’re Romeo and Juliet” argument and suggests a chat, concertmaster to concertmaster. Neither orchestra is happy about the blind audition situation, and she presents Yoo-jin as their common enemy. The S Orchestra feels belittled by the procedure like they’re being set up for failure, while the A Orchestra feels insulted to be knocked down a peg when they know they’re the elites. She makes her proposal: What if both orchestras boycott the auditions?

For what it’s worth Il-lac doesn’t look entirely at ease with the idea, but nevertheless he presents it to his teammates. Still feeling stung by his former BFF, he says that Yoo-jin ought to experience failure once in his life.

Dean Mina worries for Yoo-jin’s sake, since she knows it can’t be easy for him to be under fire from all sides. He looks to the audition as the turning point, assuring her that once they’re done, the misunderstanding will be resolved.

Unfortunately, the boycott idea catches on and pretty soon the teachers are wondering why nobody’s applied to audition. When Yoo-jin catches wind, he confronts Shi-won directly, asking why her members would avoid a process that is favorable to them. Shi-won argues that the A Orchestra was more important to her than Yoo-jin gave credit for, and blames him and Mina for wrecking that. Yoo-jin points out, however, that while she may have treated the A Orchestra as something special, she can’t speak for the others, most of whom are headed abroad after graduation and are using the orchestra as merely resumé padding. It’s all cold calculation and no heart. She can’t really argue his point, not that it makes her any less upset.

Next, Yoo-jin waits at the restaurant to talk to Il-lac, not deterred when Il-lac tries to push past with the cold shoulder. He hands over an audition application, which Il-lac regards with scorn, and in exasperation Yoo-jin asks why he has so little faith.

Il-lac spits back that Yoo-jin’s the one who ditched them first, but Yoo-jin corrects him: “Not faith in me—in yourselves. I believe that you’ll make it, but why don’t you?”

The words catch Il-lac off-guard, and his father finds him conflicted over the form. Il-lac sighs that he’s all mixed up about Yoo-jin, wondering at his reasons while also hating him too. Dad just says wisely that he must’ve really liked Yoo-jin a lot to feel such depth of emotion.

Yoo-jin does a bit of drinking at a bar, then waits in front of Nae-il’s door until she arrives home. He asks why she doesn’t follow him around anymore, given how it never used to matter to her that he found it annoying. Quietly, she just says, “Because you don’t like it, I won’t do it anymore.” Gah, it’s not even true anymore, but Yoo-jin’s just not quite able yet to say what he really means, so he has no counter to that.

So Nae-il leaves him outside her door, where he crouches down holding his head, thinking back to the other time he’d been drunk in this spot, on their first meeting.

Nae-il listens at her door for a moment, worried that he’s drunk. But when she opens the door to check on him, he’s gone.

Audition day arrives, and true to their promise, none of the members from either orchestra arrive. Nae-il comes by to check on things and is surprised to find Yoo-jin sitting alone in an empty auditorium, because her friends had kept her out of the loop, lest she tell Yoo-jin ahead of time.

She confronts her friends about it, but they’re not in the mood to be persuaded, pointing out that Yoo-jin was the first to do any abandoning. Nae-il reminds them that it was Yoo-jin who came to their aid when Streseman ditched them, and then again when their conductor fell ill—and well, they hadn’t known that till now. Min-hee, Il-lac, and Su-min all look discomfited by the realization, though it’s not enough to turn them around completely.

Unable to change their minds, Nae-il returns to the still-empty audition hall and joins Yoo-jin, who says wistfully that he’d thought his friends would have more faith in him.

To which Nae-il says simply, “If you don’t talk, how will they know? You always think on your own, and decide on your own. You’ve never asked what we think.”

She gets up to go, but he grabs her arm to hold onto her. “About Teacher Do,” he says, “I’m sorry. I was wrong. I knew you were scared but sent you anyway. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have asked you first, but I thought only of me. Because it was for you, I thought it was okay. I’m sorry.”

Aw, look who’s growing up right before our eyes. I’m warmed by Yoo-jin’s step forward, though I can’t help but also feel a pang of sympathy for Yoon-hoo, who has heard this from down the hallway.

The judges wait in the empty hall, with Teacher Do ready to angrily call it quits while Teacher Ahn encourages them to wait just a little longer. And it’s a good thing, since Il-lac has been spurred to action and sends out a text blast to everyone, asking, “Wanna try having faith in Cha Yoo-jin? He says he believes in us.”

So the S Orchestra friends race through the building to make it to the audition, a little sheepish to see each other after vowing to boycott, but they also feel spurred to do as Il-lac suggests.

They run to the hall and so do Nae-il and Yoo-jin, who arrive in time to see the first student take his place behind a screen. We can’t see faces but it’s pretty clear that it’s Il-lac, and as he begins to play, Yoo-jin finds himself tensing up and holding his breath, just willing Il-lac to do well.

Nae-il, standing next to him, reads his nerves and reaches out to take his hand.

 
COMMENTS

Oh, I love this. The first part of the episode felt a little slow (or maybe just sad, because Yoo-jin without his chipper crew is such a downer), but I can see the necessity in making Yoo-jin feel the effect of the loneliness he’d wrought, so that it could then spur him to take steps forward. Noble idiocy can be done well but even in such cases I’ll often find it frustrating, so I’m happy that the growth Yoo-jin undergoes propels him beyond the silent sacrifice to actually expressing his feelings.

It’s also a nice (if depressing) turnaround to have Yoo-jin pushing his friends away, so that the onus is on him to set things aright. I never felt he was taking advantage of everyone’s goodwill, but I do think he was taking their puppy-dog adoration for granted, and hiding behind his faux disgruntlement at their clinginess. Mind you, I love watching him feign grumpiness while enjoying their presence, but it feels honest to show that the friends aren’t mindless followers, and that they have sensitive feelings, and that if he likes them, he’s going to have to actually step it up and show them.

His new orchestra was a step in the right direction, but not enough of a move because he wasn’t explaining any of it; you couldn’t blame the students for misinterpreting his motives when he actively decided to let them. How were they to know he was rooting for them when he’s never said as much? We have the privilege of being inside his mind, but the others can only make sense of what they see—and he’s never been one to show much.

It feels right to have Il-lac be the hinge, because he was Yoo-jin’s biggest cheerleader (aside from Nae-il) and then the biggest opposition, stemming from his hurt. Plus I’m glad that the drama is showing Il-lac to have innate leadership qualities, because morale-building and emotional leadership are just as key in keeping an orchestra functioning as it is to have a conductor leading them in the technical aspects.

I feel like the drama perhaps spent too much time building up the politics behind the orchestra deathmatch, but now that we’re here I do like where it’s taking us. (I’d argue that the drama could have kept the episodes structured with the same key plot beats but cut down on the faculty and Teacher Do scenes, which would have made it just as effective and more fun.) I can see where it feels a little dramatic to have such big drama devoted to the question of which orchestra remains, but I also think the angst makes sense to me from the students’ perspective. An orchestra is a complicated enough organization that you can’t just whip one up out of nowhere, and if a school only allows for one, there’s little motivation to pour yourself into a renegade orchestra that gives you no credits (or performance opportunities or recognition).

So the S Orchestra feels particularly lost because these are musicians who wouldn’t have gotten into an orchestra the conventional way, who’ve discovered this new joy, and now are having it snatched away because of politics. The A Orchestra kids have earned their spots, but Yoo-jin has a point in saying that there’s a difference when your membership is primarily doing it for the resumé boost. He wants skill and musicality and passion, not just one or the other; hence the new orchestra, which embodies his and Streseman’s vision of taking the best of both worlds.

I’m happy that this episode marked a turning point for me, where now I feel that both sides of the Nae-il/Yoo-jin dynamic are on equal footing, developing simultaneously and hand in hand. First off, I absolutely love the silent hand-hold at the end of the episode, which is a great way to hark back to the top of the episode when Nae-il needed to hold his hand for emotional comfort, and now is the one extending it to him. It’s the first time she’s been in a position to support him—or, to be perhaps more accurate, the first time he’s allowed himself to be open enough to need supporting.

This episode also made me realize just how much I dislike when Nae-il and Yoo-jin are apart. At first, I thought this drama was presenting their relationship too much from his side, because he got all the pensive insights and she got the comical physical gags. They clearly shared a bond, but it felt like that bond didn’t mean the same thing to both parties. Now, however, I’m finally getting the sense that they’re growing together as well as independently, and that’s an exciting feeling. When Yoo-jin actually missteps and misreads Nae-il, it sets him up for such a moment of growth because he’s forced to examine what exactly he wants, and figure out how to get there. He no longer has her throwing herself at him to smooth the way, so it’s all on him.

I love that Nae-il challenged Yoo-jin to apologize without rationalizing his behavior, and that he came to understand that and offered it to her without strings—at that point, it’s maybe the only thing he could say to earn back some of her trust. And while he may not be comfortable opening himself up and leaning on people, he’s felt firsthand how it feels to suffer while protecting himself and remaining closed off. Turns out, vulnerability isn’t so bad when you’ve got company.

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