Will It Snow For Christmas: Episode 16 (Final)

by javabeans

Finally, the end! The angst is over! Phew.

Although I didn’t really have specific predictions for how the story would end, I was fairly certain about the tone that would characterize the finale. The result was pretty close to my expectation, so more than anything, I’m relieved. Did I like the ending? Generally speaking, I was satisfied. Did I like HOW we got there? Um… I’m still working that out. There were things I liked, and things I didn’t.

SONG OF THE DAY

Kim Yeon-woo – “다시 한번 사랑하자” (Let’s Love One More Time) [ Download ]

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EPISODE 16 RECAP

Kang-jin says he’ll take care of Young-sook, but Ji-wan challenges her mother, “You’ll come with me, won’t you?”

A bit uncomfortably, Young-sook answers, “I’m going to stay here with your brother.” At this, Kang-jin shoots her a look, as though he was testing her response and is surprised she went along with it.

Ji-wan persists: “If you keep doing this, I’m not going to come here again. I won’t see you anymore! Will you come with me, or not?” And still Young-sook answers, “I’m going to stay here.”

Turning to Kang-jin, Ji-wan asks in a pleading tone, “Oppa, you cut the tie. You do it. Convince Mom, okay?” But he doesn’t speak up, and she realizes he’s not going to. Frustrated, she storms out of the house.

Kang-jin follows her outside, where Ji-wan tells him firmly that she’s going to bring movers by over the weekend. She’ll carry her mother out of the house if necessary.

Woo-jung has been working all night, so she gets up from a nap in a side alcove by the office area. She wanders out and asks Young-sook groggily where Cha Kang-jin is. Without any reaction, Young-sook answers that he’s probably outside. Woo-jung thanks her, but as she turns away, the implication hits her — so Young-sook knows who Kang-jin is?

She finds Kang-jin still outside and says that she has just witnessed something astonishing that he should know. She relates how Young-sook had referred to him as Kang-jin and not reacted at all. Woo-jung’s bafflement grows at Kang-jin’s lack of reaction — does this mean he knew that her memory had returned?

It seems that Young-sook belatedly realizes her slip, but she continues acting as normal. When she burns her fingers on a hot lid, Kang-jin hurries to get the first aid kit and tend to her fingers. She’s uncomfortable at his continued kindness, and her behavior, while less forced than yesterday, is still strained around him.

However, she’s still committed to her act. When Kang-jin advises her to give Ji-wan a call to soothe her hurt feelings, Young-sook asks, as though hurt, “Are you tired of me?” Kang-jin assures her that he just wishes she would pay Ji-wan more attention.

Coldly, Young-sook blurts, “I’ll handle my child myself.” It’s not an outright admission but it makes Kang-jin and Woo-jung both freeze; it’s something you’d say to a stranger, so it’s telling. Young-sook retreats to her room, but adds, “Ji-yong, you’re my son. Whatever happens, you have to stay with me, okay? Don’t go anywhere, or to anyone — stay with me, okay?”

Young-sook must suspect that Kang-jin has a clue, which is supported by a follow-up call from the Sancheong charnel house. The man explains that he discussed the matter of Ji-yong’s vault with her “younger son.”

I’m very relieved that Woo-jung is made aware of this, because unlike our leads, she’s definitely NOT too noble to keep out of it. Sure enough, she meets with Ji-wan at the hospital and gives it to her straight: Young-sook seems to have her memory back, but she’s lying for some reason. Woo-jung is here to ask Ji-wan why because Young-sook’s reaction is so incomprehensible, but she sees that Ji-wan is just as stunned.

Even more puzzling, Woo-jung adds, is how Kang-jin is playing along. He knows Young-sook is faking, and yet he goes along with it. Woo-jung figures, “In my opinion, it was like she was tormenting him on purpose. Doesn’t somebody have to stop her? Don’t you have to stop her?”

Ji-wan thinks back to her mother’s odd behavior in light of this news. Now when she recalls the lunch conversation, she realizes that her mother was purposely hurting Chun-hee.

When Ji-wan arrives at the atelier, she walks into an argument between Jae-hyun and Kang-jin. Jae-hyun is angry with Kang-jin for turning down yet another fantastic business opportunity and calls him wrong in the head. He says that one year working in China would open up their business’s entire future — why can’t he consider it? Is it because of his sick mother, for whom he’s already thrown away countless great opportunities?

Kang-jin snaps that Jae-hyun should go if he’s so keen on the idea, but Jae-hyun argues that the business associates are only interested in Kang-jin. Angrily, Kang-jin retorts that Jae-hyun can split up the business if he’s so upset, and a fed-up Jae-hyun agrees.

After Jae-hyun storms out, Ji-wan repeats some of his words to Kang-jin, saying that he should take this opportunity and that he’d be foolish to pass it up.

Knowing that her mother is the reason for his decision, she says that she’s going to take her mother tomorrow, rather than waiting for the weekend: “She’s MY mother! I’ll take care of it! Why are you living like this, like an idiot? What did you do that was so wrong? What huge sin have you committed? How long will you suffer from that damned guilty conscience? ”

Kang-jin tells her to be quiet, aware that Young-sook is in the house. She continues anyway: “If you do this, do you think my mother will thank you? If you endure this and lie for her, do you think she’ll feel better? Do you think her hate will go away? You should have told me first that her memory had returned!” Her voice grows louder and more impassioned as she demands to know why he is taking this on alone: “Why do you live like this!?!”

His answer is so startling it momentarily stuns her into silence: “Because I can’t give you up.”

Slowly, he takes her in his arms and hugs her. They stand there for a few moments, Ji-wan crying, until a shocked Young-sook demands to know what they’re doing. Guiltily, they break apart, and Young-sook marches up to Kang-jin and grabs his shirt, all pretenses about her memory loss flying out the window as she rages: “What are you doing to my daughter?! You act like the good son in front of me, but what the hell are you doing to my daughter?”

Ji-wan begs her mother to stop:

Ji-wan: “Don’t do this to Kang-jin oppa anymore. You can’t do this. And he took such care of you. You don’t have that right, Mom.”

Young-sook: “What?”
Ji-wan: “Forgive him now.’
Young-sook: “How can I forgive him? How can I forgive this bastard? His mother killed your father, and he killed your brother. How can I forgive him?!”
Ji-wan: “That’s not Kang-jin oppa’s fault, and it’s not his mother’s fault either. It’s not my fault, or yours, or Dad’s. It was just an accident. Mom, stop now. Stop.”
Young-sook: “Shut up! You awful girl.”

Young-sook storms off to her room, and Ji-wan starts to follow. Kang-jin stops her, saying he’ll go.

Kang-jin kneels before Young-sook, who continues to spew hatred at him, scornful of his dutiful son act. How long has he known she was back to normal? Why didn’t he say anything? “Were you waiting to see how I would act? What is your motive?”

Kang-jin keeps his head bowed humbly. His voice is contrite and halting, like he’s trying to figure things out as he explains:

Kang-jin: “I was waiting for you to tell me first. I wasn’t sure why you were lying, why you kept fooling us, what you were planning, whether you were still upset, or still angry, whether you were still unable to forgive. I was waiting. I was trying to figure out if I should go now, if I should give up and step aside, if this was a road that should end or something I shouldn’t have done from the start. I was despairing whether this was something that shouldn’t continue, something that would be pointless no matter how hard I tried, something that would never change even if I poured all my energy into it. But Mother, I don’t want to give up here. I don’t want to leave things here.”

Ji-wan listens quietly at the door, and Kang-jin now finally looks up at Young-sook with tears in his eyes.

Kang-jin: “Please give up that hate now. If there’s something more I must do, I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Please forgive me. It must be hard for you, but please forgive me.”

Young-sook is not in a generous mood. She jeers, “How can I forgive you? What can I do for you to think you’ve been forgiven? What were you thinking the past three years while you stayed with me? Was it for mere forgiveness? Is that it?”

He answers, “Yes. That was all.” But she’s half-incredulous that a person could be so noble, unwilling to give him that credit: “That wasn’t all. You did it because couldn’t get over your feelings for Ji-wan!”

Kang-jin:”I did. I believed I could, and I put those feelings aside. I thought I could live having rid myself of those feelings, and that’s how I lived on. But…”

Here the tears fall, and Kang-jin’s voice breaks in anguish.

Kang-jin: “…but the feelings won’t go away. They weren’t feelings that could be given up. It took me three years to realize that. I asked myself a hundred, a thousand times a day, ‘You crazy fool, why do you live like this? If you live as Han Ji-yong, you have to give up Ji-wan. Why do you live like such an idiot? Why are you atoning for your mother’s sin? Only crazy people live like you. Just run away, like my mother, like Ji-wan’s father. If I could stop fooling myself, if I could just think of myself and devote myself to my own feelings, and look only at Ji-wan…’ I told myself that countless times every day, to grab Ji-wan’s hand and run away. I really wanted to run away. If not for that hurt — if only I didn’t know the hurt of being abandoned — I really would have run away. If the voice of the mother clinging to me had been just a little less warm, if the food you prepared for me had been just a little less warm, I would have gladly run away. I don’t know what the past three years were to you, but to me they were warm and happy. Because of you, it was sometimes painful, but I could endure it. Because of you. That’s what it was like for me.”

Against her will, Young-sook is moved by Kang-jin’s sincerity, and sheds a few tears. In a low, weak voice, she agrees:

Young-sook: “Okay. I’ll forgive you. I’ll forgive everything — so let go of Ji-wan. Just let go of her, and leave. Then I’ll forgive you and your mother.”

The hopeful looks that had dawned on Kang-jin’s and Ji-wan’s faces now fall in dread. Ji-wan drops to the ground and Young-sook breaks down, insisting, “I said I’d forgive you, so just let go of Ji-wan!” Kang-jin protests — this is asking too much.

Kang-jin: “I can’t do that now. I can’t let go of Ji-wan — that’s the only thing I can’t do, Mother. I can’t do that, no matter what. Without Ji-wan, I can’t live.”
Young-sook: “Then I can’t forgive you. If you could only let go of her, it would all end. That miserable bad fortune between your family and mine would all end! I’ll forgive every single thing, so just give Ji-wan up and disappear from my sight, I beg you!”

Kang-jin pleads, but this time Young-sook isn’t doing this to be vindictive. Her argument makes a sort of sense, that as long as there are loose ends and dangling threads between their families, she can’t get over her resentment. But if they could cleanly cut all the strings, she’d be able to move on. Now, Young-sook’s voice takes on a pleading tone as she entreats:

Young-sook: “Life doesn’t end because your love does. You can live on without that. Everyone lives like that. I’ll forget everything cleanly and forgive you. I won’t even think of it in the future, or remember it. So Kang-jin, please go.”

For a few long beats, nobody moves. And then, slowly, Kang-jin gets to his feet. He makes his way numbly to the door, where he sees Ji-wan sitting slumped, but passes without a word. Ji-wan starts to follow him, but Young-sook orders her, “Don’t go. It’s all over now, Ji-wan. Don’t go.”

Listlessly, Kang-jin leaves the house and wanders the street. He falls to his knees, the world blurring around him.

Ji-wan shows up at Chun-hee’s door with soju, suggesting a drink together. She’s already had one bottle on her own, so she’s already drunk. She’s here to ask Chun-hee how she continued living after she had left Jun-su the first time. Was she able to survive?

Chun-hee: “I must have survived because I’m here.”
Ji-wan: “That’s good, then I’ll survive too.”

She asks why Chun-hee returned to Sancheong, then, to see her father again. Chun-hee replies, “Because I missed him. Because I couldn’t forget him. Because I thought I’d die.” This answer is less reassuring than the last, and Ji-wan sighs, “I’m in trouble. That means I’ll go looking for Kang-jin oppa someday.”

She asks why Chun-hee clung and dragged out her feelings, but Chun-hee counters, “Do you think it’s something you can end easily? Those feelings won’t end until I die.”

Ji-wan: “Then what am I supposed to do? I’m supposed to live feeling like this until I die? It would be better to die! How can I live like this?”
Chun-hee: “You’re different from me. I ran a tearoom to earn my living, but you’re a doctor. Meet a better man than Kang-jin and live proudly.”
Ji-wan: “But still — if I can’t forget him, what do I do?”
Chun-hee: “Forget anyway. Otherwise, you’ll become a bad woman like me, hurting others and bruising the hearts of your children.”
Ji-wan: “Do you regret it? If you could have that moment again, do you feel confident you wouldn’t run away with my father?”

Chun-hee would rather not answer that, and drinks instead. Ji-wan asks, “If that moment came back to you, could you please resist? Think of me and Kang-jin, and hold back just once.”

Kang-jin arrives at his mother’s place, surprised to find Ji-wan asleep on the ground. He asks what she talked about with Ji-wan. Chun-hee says that Ji-wan and asked if life went on after love, and that she had answered yes.

The next morning, Ji-wan awakens to find herself in Kang-jin’s car, parked at the road by the river in Sancheong. Kang-jin is outside, looking out at the water, thinking back to their teenage years here.

Ji-wan joins him by the water, where he asks gently if she’s sober now, and if they should start heading home. He starts to give her general instructions, advising her to get along with her mother, not to get angry, to check her medicine, to be sure to take her to the hospital. There’s a finality to his words, like he’s passing along the baton since he won’t be around anymore.

After each part, Ji-wan listens quietly and nods. Kang-jin turns to leave, but she stops him with her question: “Then does this mean we can’t see each other anymore?”

He gives a rueful nod. She adds, “And we can’t call each other?” Again he nods, saying hoarsely, “Yeah.”

“Or eat together? Or hold hands?”

The finality of this moment stretches between them. Kang-jin steps forward and gathers Ji-wan in a hug. Looking over his shoulder, she cries and continues, “And you can’t hold me like this either.” Slowly, he pulls back and looks at her. She adds, “Then I won’t be able to say these words again either. I love you. I love you, Cha Kang-jin.”

He holds her face in his hands and kisses her.

When he lets go, he says with difficulty, “Let’s live happily.”

She nods and repeats those words, understanding that he means they’ll be living separately.

And then… ANOTHER YEAR LATER.

(OM*%^!#$%arg*!@&($^@+^*%)

The architecture business is now Lee & Seo, the Lee being Woo-jung. Kang-jin has moved out of the house but the firm has remained, and so has Young-sook. However, Lee & Seo will soon be moving out, and Jae-hyun thanks Young-sook for putting up with them all this time. She has grown fond of them and will miss them when they’re gone.

Woo-jung is late to work this morning, so Jae-hyun gives her a call — and is confused when a man answers, sounding sleepy. It’s Tae-joon, who has mistakenly answered her cell phone. Granted, they slept in separate beds and are both fully clothed.

Tae-joon’s not sure why he’s here, so Woo-jung tells him that she had gotten a call from the bar last night, where he’d fallen asleep drunk. This means she’s #1 in his phone, and she asks why. He answers, “It’s out of habit.” Woo-jung says that that’s going overboard; people will misunderstand.

Tae-joon asks teasingly whether she seduced him — “Did you kiss me while I was sleeping? I’m really sexy when I sleep.”

Looking around, he muses that he likes her cozy apartment. If she’d invited him to live with her, rather than the fancy apartment she had set up for them, he could have been happy. And then, he adds that he’s still open to it, then concedes that he knows this is also excessive.

Surprisingly, Woo-jung tells him that this last part isn’t going overboard.

Tying up a few more loose ends, we check in on Bu-san and Jin-kyung. She tells him that she went to see the doctor, who confirmed that she’s pregnant. Anxious and scared, she barks at him to take responsibility — and Bu-san breaks into a wide smile, only too happy to oblige. He promises, “I won’t abandon you or hurt you. I’ll even name the baby and fuss over it and be a really good father.”

Chun-hee now works for Miss Shin, and the two women look over in bemusement.

Kang-jin is still an architecture teacher at the university, where he wraps up a lecture, then heads out of the hall.

Ji-wan has finished her intern year and now scolds a new intern for falling asleep while on his shift. Her supervisor watches with satisfaction at this reversal (Ji-wan is now responsible and mature!), but when he walks off, Ji-wan leans in close and tells the intern that if he’s going to sleep, he’d better pick a better spot. She knows this great place.

She heads to the university library, and in the lobby, she spots Kang-jin at about the same time he catches sight of her. They both stop in their tracks, staring at each other for a long moment, the world blurring past them.

Then they both start moving again, and pass each other without saying a word.

The encounter scrapes at old wounds, and that night, Ji-wan cries at the desk where Kang-jin used to work. Kang-jin sobs in his car.

It’s a sight that tugs at the hearts of both mothers, who watch their children from a distance.

And so, Chun-hee calls Young-sook for a talk at the cafe. Chun-hee inquires after Ji-wan, and gets back the polite response that she’s fine. Chun-hee replies that Kang-jin is fine, too. Then she gets to the point, asking bluntly whether Ji-wan smiles these days. “My Kang-jin doesn’t. Is Ji-wan happy? My Kang-jin is unhappy. It seems like he’s trying his best, but he doesn’t look happy. Does Ji-wan cry?”

Young-sook hurriedly speaks up, but Chun-hee goes on: “My Kang-jin cries sometimes.” She informs Young-sook that he will be leaving Korea in a week for work, and will be gone for three years. However, she and Bu-san are both pretty sure he’s actually planning to stay away a lot longer than that.

Young-sook tries to maintain her calm, but her hands shake. When she gets home that day and sees the bare kitchen table, she’s reminded of all the happy times she spent there with Kang-jin, back when she believed he was her son.

As a last goodbye, Kang-jin revisits his mother’s old tearoom in Sancheong, then the river. Standing on the bridge, he looks at the pendant in his hand and remembers all the teenage scenes that occurred as a result of the pendant — how he’d lost it, how Ji-wan had tried to retrieve it for him, how he had confessed his feelings for her.

I appreciate that these recollections are captured in stills, rather than in motion, because it strengthens the feel that these are old memories, to be kept in the past like photographs to allow one’s current life to continue. To underscore that point, Kang-jin opens his hand and lets the pendant fall. As it drops into the water, he breathes, as though in relief.

Then, as he walks on, he comes face to face with Ji-wan.

They haven’t spoken in a year; he looks intently at her, and lets her establish the mood. Ji-wan smiles pleasantly, phrasing her question as a stranger would: “Are you a resident here?” Playing along, Kang-jin answers, “Not anymore. I used to live here.”

Ji-wan replies, “I see. I used to live here, too. Then do you know a man who lives here named Cha Kang-jin?” Still polite, he says, “I do. What is it about?”

Ji-wan says, “My mother asked me to convey her greetings to him. Before he leaves the country, she asked him to come eat dinner at our house.”

The significance of this is clear: Ji-wan waits for his response, both hopeful and nervous. The longer his silence stretches, the more her confidence flags, and she adds, “If you don’t have anything to say, I’ll go…” She waits a little more, hesitantly repeating, “Do you have anything to say?”

Keeping his gaze fixed on her, Kang-jin thinks to himself:

Kang-jin’s voiceover: “How have you been? I missed you. I’m glad to see you looking healthy. I’m really glad.”

Disappointed, Ji-wan says, “Since it seems you don’t have a response, I’ll go now…”

She starts walking away slowly, but she can’t quite believe that he won’t say something or come after her, and steals a glance backward.

Kang-jin watches her walking away, and thinks:

Kang-jin’s voiceover: “Ji-wan once asked me: If time turned back to let us make our choices again, which road would we choose? I told her, if time turned back, I would choose the same path. If I just have her — if I just have the woman walking in front of me — I would willingly, gladly choose that path again.”

And now, he starts to follow after her, walking (literally) into the light. The camera pulls back, and in the distance, he catches up to her.

 
COMMENTS

I’m still not sure how I feel about this finale. On one hand, just the fact that nobody died and our leads ended up together should be cause for relief, if not outright celebration. We even got a few extraneous happy endings to add to the glow, such as with Woo-jung and Tae-joon, and Bu-san and Jin-kyung. I never really cared about the latter coupling, but the former surely deserves their second chance, now that both have mellowed out a bit, matured, and learned to appreciate what a good thing they had going. If anything, watching star-crossed lovers struggle so mightily to love each other must have taught them not to take their relationship for granted.

The ending isn’t quite bittersweet — it’s actually pretty positive, so I think it’s too happy to be bittersweet — but it still leaves me wanting a little more, so I’m not perfectly satisfied.

I think I am of two (disparate, opposing) minds about our finale. (1) On an intellectual level, I understand why the writer chose to do things this way, but (2) as a viewer who has laughed and (okay, mostly) cried with these characters for weeks, I wanted more.

For example, I understand Young-sook’s plea for Kang-jin to cut ties with her family. I did not like it, but I could see that it wasn’t her being a villain determined to ruin his happiness. So I won’t complain that it’s a plot contrivance, but I will complain that it made the ending somewhat anticlimactic.

I loved that Chun-hee went to Young-sook to inform her about Kang-jin and remind her that the kids aren’t happy. I understand why the writer chose to keep this moment small, rather than going big and emotional like in the previous episode when Chun-hee begged for Young-sook to let go. Young-sook needs to come to the decision on her own, so pushing her won’t achieve the desired effect. She has to make that step on her own. But still, I wanted more of a compelling reason for Young-sook to change her mind. She goes home and remembers Kang-jin acting like her loving son, and that’s it? I wanted a bigger epiphany for Young-sook — like a scene of her talking to Ji-yong, maybe of him urging her to let go, or something to really convey that she is healed.

And I also understand why the writer framed the ending this way — this is teh first time these kids have had a completely clean slate, so now they get their second chance. No guilt, since Young-sook has forgiven the Cha family, and no opposition, since Young-sook has now extended her olive branch. It’s like Kang-jin’s ending narration — if they had the chance to make their choices over again, he’d choose the same way as long as he had Ji-wan. This is their second chance to make that choice, and now he has Ji-wan with him, so no matter what happens, there will be no regrets.

So I understand that the writer opted for an understated, quiet ending — she’s already given us the melodramatic big gestures, so this would be a refreshing contrast. I understand it, but dammit, I’m Korean and I’ve got a love for melodrama running in my veins — gimme that grand, definitive gesture already!

As for the drama as a whole…

Despite the melodrama tag, this drama was actually infused with a refreshingly light, enjoyable atmosphere. That’s particularly true of the early episodes, and had the drama ended with Episode 10, I’d have been firmly in love with it.

There was a lot of goodness after Episode 10, but that’s where my feelings start to grow conflicted. I understood why things happened the way they did, but I wasn’t enjoying the angst as much. The angst in the first ten episodes was actually a lot of fun (in my opinion), because we always had a payoff and relationship growth accompanying it. In the drama’s latter third, it started feeling like angst for the sake of angst. Poor Go Soo and Han Ye-seul! Did they even realize what they were getting into?

Of course, I say that in jest because both leads have certainly benefited from this drama, despite its middling ratings (it ended today with a 10.9%). I read a few complaints that Go Soo’s tortured acting became tiring to watch, but I think those are in the minority; this drama has been touted as the “Rebirth of Go Soo.” He’s had successful roles in the past, but this and Into the White Night have really established him as not only a pretty face but a pretty strong, intense actor as well.

The responses to Han Ye-seul have been more tempered, and I’ve run across a lot of articles and reviews that qualify her performance, saying, “Even though she has vastly improved her acting here, it’s still lacking…” I agree with that, but on the whole I think Han has acquitted herself pretty well. She could have done more with her role, for sure (and I wish…!), but her efforts to improve are evident; in some of the recent episodes, I thought she showed even more range of expression than Go Soo. She’s still an actress who has difficulty fully immersing herself in character, and she’ll have to choose carefully in the future, but she’s made a lot of strides to distance herself from her old image as a pretty face with marginal acting skill.

And we can’t leave out Jo Min-soo, who played a character who could have been merely irritating and brash, yet instead gave Chun-hee a lot of depth. I could see a number of other middle-aged actresses attempting this role and making Chun-hee hateful, but Jo hit upon that tricky balance of assertive, immature, and vulnerable. Her scenes with Go Soo were simply wonderful.

So I have to conclude that while the ending didn’t leave quite the strong impression I wanted it to, I am glad I went counter to my impulse to avoid all things melodramatic and gave this drama a whirl. I doubt anyone would call it one of Lee Kyung-hee’s best works (not when she has I’m Sorry, I Love You and Thank You to live up to) but it’s not her worst and I wouldn’t dismiss it entirely, either. In between the copious angst and tears, there were a lot of delightful moments.

Will It Snow For Christmas is pretty much a straight, standard melodrama, and some have said that it feels a bit out of step with current trends, or dated. I agree, and the ever-so-slightly-faded color palette and melodic score enhances that feel. However, I look at it in a glass-half-full way; it’s reminiscent of earlier melo fare, but with better acting, music, and overall production quality, making it a “classic” kdrama romance.

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