Yeo Mi-ran is a not-quite-broke, down-on-her-luck attorney, who gets hired by a firm specializing in representing celebrities. She doesn’t have much regard for men, having lumped them into categories of sleazy behavior. Nam Kang-ho is an A-list actor, adored by women particularly for his breath-taking kissing scenes. He believes all women are on the make, insincere, and self-absorbed gold diggers—whether they’re fans or anti-fans, it doesn’t matter. Yeo Mi-ran sets out to take Nam Kang-ho down and becomes his attorney, but with the threat of a scandal, the two are forced to date. Will sparks fly or will there be fireworks?
I really wanted to love this show. Within the first 10 minutes, I loved it, then I seriously doubted whether I would like it, but continued. I’m glad I did because I absolutely *loved* this show. It’s one of my favorite romantic comedies—Korean, American, Canadian, or British—and that’s saying something, because I’ve seen a lot of rom-coms.
Rom-com. As we know it, the term doesn’t really fit with Kdramas. Rom-coms have a certain set of expectations with the audience. They’re formulaic, predictable, a whole lot of feel-good fluff, without much substance. I prefer to call Kdramas that have both romantic and comedic elements romantic comedy because it shifts our mental paradigm just enough to accept the differences between South Korean and American cinematic storytelling. What are those differences?
Love to Hate You doesn’t skimp on any of these elements. To those who are new to Kdramas, you gotta roll with it. Some of it feels uncomfortable and strange: the animated sketches around characters in the early episodes, the sound effects of blinking and heartbeats, and that’s on top of the cultural differences. But it all works. Seemlessly.
At the core of Love to Hate You is the obvious discrimination and/or chauvinistic attitudes as shown through Yeo Mi-ran, Choi Soo-jin, and Shin Na-eun. These women and their situations help shed light on what South Korean women are dealing with currently. It’s reminiscent of what the US went through with women’s equality in the 70s, 80s, and 90s, and to a lesser extent now. But at no point in this series are you clubbed over the head with this theme. In fact, it’s entertaining and hopeful—both with equality and with love.
If you pay attention, most Kdramas will point out the themes and sub-themes. One of these moments happens during a conversation between Do Won-jun (Kim Ji-hoon) and Choi Soo-jin (Kim Jung-ryung) when he asks, “You want to find love again even after being hurt?” Choi Soo-jin replies, “It’s not the love. It’s the people that are bad. And it’s out there. You just gotta chase it. Don’t just waste your life away. Find someone to love.”
Yoo Teo and Kim Ok-vin bring a fresh, comedic, and romantic approach to what is a weighty topic: equality of the sexes. And there is no denying their chemistry—through their animosity or their attraction. And then there’s the bro-mance. I laughed, I cried, I hated, and I loved. It’s a series I wanted to last longer, but settled for watching again. And again.
©2024 Caitlyn Frost. All rights reserved.
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