[Drama special review] Stain

by solstices

KBS’s drama special Stain paints a chillingly stark portrayal of poverty, centering around a pianist who just wants to be allowed to play his beloved instrument. With stellar acting, poignant soundtracks, and an inevitable spiral of a tragedy, this drama is one that left me bereft of breath by its coda.

 
EPISODE 1 REVIEW

Our protagonist, and the entire reason I’m watching this drama, is GONG JI-HOON (Cha Hak-yeon, a.k.a. N of VIXX). He’s an aspiring pianist without the finances to back his dream up; he lives in a cramped, dilapidated semi-basement apartment with his family.

All he can afford is a sketch of a keyboard pasted to the ceiling above his bunk bed, which he “practices” on. When a cockroach crawls onto it, he squishes it to death, and it leaves behind a stain that’s just like Ji-hoon — viewed as an unsightly stain by the rest of society.

It’s a powerful opening scene, and it sets the tone that underscores the rest of the story. Since he can’t afford to rent a private studio, Ji-hoon’s only avenue of practice is the university practice room, but even such a public space doesn’t welcome him.

Underclassman JOO SHI-YOUNG (Byun Seo-yoon) interrupts him five minutes before his allotted time slot is up, then proceeds to wipe down the piano keys before she can even deign to touch them. It creates a discordant mess of notes that are very much audible to the hastily retreating Ji-hoon.

That night, Ji-hoon’s work as a designated driver leads him to drive a very drunk underclassman home. He’s JANG YEON-JOON (Lee Shi-woo), and he’s the epitome of the privileged rich guy. When Ji-hoon tries to get back to work, Yeon-joon offers him money to stay and drink with him, crudely attempting to buy his time. It’s utterly demeaning, and Ji-hoon rightfully refuses the money.

Of course, entitled Yeon-joon takes that badly, and it escalates into a brief altercation that ends with Ji-hoon fleeing the apartment. In his haste, he doesn’t realize he’s accidentally dropped his wallet at Yeon-joon’s place.

The next day, Ji-hoon returns for his wallet, but Yeon-joon’s already out of town for summer vacation. He gives Ji-hoon his passcode with a pointed reminder not to steal anything. Ji-hoon doesn’t, of course, but something much better has caught his eye — the grand piano in the living room. It takes all of five seconds before Ji-hoon’s giving in to the temptation, and he ends up playing the piano till nightfall, entranced by the beautiful sounds.

Unable to give up the piano, Ji-hoon soon finds himself returning to Yeon-joon’s house, and before long he’s sleeping there, showering there, and even wearing Yeon-joon’s clothes. It’s painfully telling that Ji-hoon is only treated with dignity now, when he’s dressed in branded outfits and walking out of a luxury apartment complex.

All of a sudden, Ji-hoon’s fantasy is abruptly shattered when Shi-young shows up at Yeon-joon’s door, drunk out of her mind. Turns out she’s been dumped by Yeon-joon, who played her like a fiddle. Ji-hoon’s a kind soul who can’t turn a blind eye to her distress, so he lets her in, partially fibbing that he’s just here to retrieve his wallet.

Shi-young buys his tale, until she sobers up and realizes that not only is there a cheap toothbrush in Yeon-joon’s bathroom, but also that Ji-hoon’s wearing Yeon-joon’s expensive shirt. She puts two and two together, and threatens to report him to the police.

Ji-hoon protests, but she refuses to even hear him out, sneering that he’s nothing but a beggar. As she turns to leave, Ji-hoon tries to stop her, going so far as to crawl on his knees to latch onto her leg — but she whirls around and swings her purse down on him.

Cut to the next morning: Shi-young’s tied to a chair, a towel bound tightly around her mouth to prevent her from screaming. Ji-hoon nervously stammers that he had no other choice; if she exposes his trespassing, his life will be ruined.

This catapults us into the increasingly tense second half of the show, which spirals uncontrollably like a train that’s veered off its rails. One impulse decision necessitates yet another, snowballing into a tangled mess that Ji-hoon can barely hope to extricate himself out of.

The whole hostage situation is awfully messed up in more ways than one, yet Ji-hoon’s desperation is painfully palpable, steering him towards rash decisions he may not otherwise have made if he had any other way out. It seems like a tragedy of Ji-hoon’s own making, but how much of that was his own free will, and how much of that was self-preservation borne out of the unrelenting disdain and discrimination of others?

In any case, Shi-young may have been taken hostage, but she’s no damsel in distress. She constantly tries to escape her captivity, and her conniving manipulation contrasts sharply with Ji-hoon’s meek nature — that is, until he catches her in a lie.

Ji-hoon’s demeanor switches up on a dime, and I really have to commend Cha Hak-yeon’s acting here. His gaze grows hard, and he coldly points out that Shi-young’s the type of person who views him as no better than an insect, since she even wipes down the piano keys after he’s touched them.

All his pent-up frustration finally explodes, and he cries that he just wanted to play the piano, until Shi-young came here and ruined it all. Rich kids like Shi-young or Yeon-joon can study overseas with just a word to their parents, but Ji-hoon can’t. The only way for him is to earn it through a professor’s recommendation, and the only way for him to be good enough for that is to practice on a piano he doesn’t have.

It’s clear that Ji-hoon doesn’t have much in the way of support, least of all from his deadbeat family. With a stepmom that only demands money from him, a dad that doesn’t stand up for him, and a younger half-brother that rudely resents him, it’s no wonder Ji-hoon feels like he has to fend for himself. The only saving grace is his grandmother, but she, too, has barely any say in the family.

This serves as the basis for a tentative connection to form between Ji-hoon and Shi-young, who offers up empathy in the form of her own sob story. She’s frighteningly good at coaxing kindness out of the good-natured Ji-hoon with her plaintive pleas and puppy eyes, which leads me to doubt the veracity of her tales. Ji-hoon doesn’t, however, and he opens up about his complicated family background to her.

With that, Shi-young successfully induces Lima syndrome in Ji-hoon, and it culminates in a surprise peck on the cheek that has Ji-hoon skittishly scrambling away in a nervous panic. Shi-young advances on him, seducing him and pulling him in for a proper kiss — all so that she can back him up against the kitchen counter and reach for a knife to kill him with.

Before she can reach it, though, a voice interrupts them. It’s Yeon-joon, back from his summer getaway. Ji-hoon scrambles to hide Shi-young in a closet, but it isn’t long before Yeon-joon notices his presence.

Caught red-handed, Ji-hoon winds up with no choice but to nervously stammer out the truth to Yeon-joon. He didn’t mean to steal anything, he just wanted to play the piano.

And then — Yeon-joon bursts out laughing. Nearly hysterical from amusement, he wheezes that Ji-hoon should’ve just asked to play his piano, and he would have gladly let him. Why, he’s very much sick of the thing that his mother foisted upon him! He’d love to be rid of it!

My stomach sinks to the floor, and so does Ji-hoon’s. It’s such a callous way to trivialize and undermine Ji-hoon’s entire struggle up to this point, effectively making all his desperate crimes for naught.

Numb with disbelief, Ji-hoon punches Yeon-joon square in the jaw, then does it again, and again. All the while, he’s repeating Yeon-joon’s words that he could have just asked him, except it sounds more like “as if.” As if I could have asked you. As if you wouldn’t have used it as yet another reason to mock me for my poverty.

Then his tirade is abruptly cut short by a chair to the back of his head, wielded by a frightened Shi-young. She shoves him hard, sending him sprawling, and he hits his head hard on the grand piano. Bleeding from his two head wounds, Ji-hoon crumples to the floor, disoriented and dazed. As Ji-hoon struggles to pull himself up, his bloodied hands leave crimson stains on the piano’s pristine white keys — just like the cockroach did.

In the aftermath, Ji-hoon staggers home, still bleeding out from his head wounds. He doesn’t make it far before his body gives out on him, and he collapses in a garbage heap, where he takes his last breath.

It’s a bleak and bitter end to our tale, and to Ji-hoon’s life. Despite all his (mis)adventures in Yeon-joon’s lavish apartment — which Ji-hoon described as feeling like a whole other world — Ji-hoon still ended up back where he started, surrounded by squalor. It’s a sobering bit of symbolism that points to how poverty is a cycle that’s excruciatingly difficult to break out of.

Throughout the drama, there was a recurring theme of people speaking over Ji-hoon and refusing to listen to him — first it was Shi-young, then it was Yeon-joon. Their positions of power give them the privilege to ignore Ji-hoon’s plight; in a world where money affords one the right to speak, the poor do not have a voice.

As a longtime fan of Cha Hak-yeon, I’m immensely proud of his performance here — he’s come so far since his first-ever acting role! Also, color me impressed that he learnt how to play the piano pieces himself and practiced for two whole months. Ji-hoon’s descent into desperation was so heartbreakingly palpable, and his character was wonderfully nuanced. Despite his moments of cutthroat ruthlessness, it was clear that he never acted out of malice; rather, he’s been backed so far into a corner that he sees this as his only way out, whatever the cost.

In just one hour, Stain delivers a compelling tale of one young man’s last-ditch attempt to rise above his social status and carve out a better future for himself. Woven through it is insightful social commentary that’s never too heavy-handed, crafting a riveting show that had my breath catching in my throat more often than not with its evocative symbolism, suffocating sense of dread, and haunting piano soundtracks. Would I recommend it? Most definitely.

 
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