My Liberation Notes is writer Park Hae-young's follow-up to her remarkable My Mister (2018). In a way, it's My Mister with almost (not quite) all the dramatic elements of that story stripped out, so that the show can focus on the lives and characters of three highly depressed siblings, two sisters (played by Lee El and Kim Ji-won) bookending their brother (played by Lee Min-ki). All three are stuck working under-appreciated in dead end office jobs in Seoul to which they commute from far out in the countryside where they still live with their parents (as do so many single Korean adults even into their 40s). Despite their jobs, none seems able to escape and start their own lives. Not one of the children or the parents seems to like any of the others and their own manifest inadequacies never stop them from judging each other in ways that are, or at least are intended to be, as hurtful as possible.
Into their lives comes Gu Ja-gyeong, played by Son Seok-joo and known to them only as the somewhat mysterious Mr. Gu, who goes to work at the father's sink factory but who turns out (many episodes into the show) to be a gangster trying to escape his former life and is continuing to drown his sorrows in a sea of soju.
It may seem unlikely that the relentless portrayal of the characters' grinding depression, hopelessness, and sometimes outright misery could make for an engaging show, especially one that lasts for 16 one-hour long episodes. And yet, Park is such a skilled writer that once you are pulled into the world of these damaged people, you want to see it through to the end, to share in their occasional fleeting moments of happiness, to laugh when you are given permission, and to hope for their eventual redemption. You will not be unrequited.
The parents are played, entirely humorlessly, by Chun Ho-jin and Lee Kyung-seong and their characters are a weak spot, adding nothing at all to the story beyond the usual cliched oppression of their children. Indeed, their unremittingly curmudgeonly behavior, with never a hint of affection or parental wisdom, is quite tiresome and in stark contrast to the nuanced portrayal of the three siblings and Mr. Gu. Even when Lee Min-ki begs them to give him a little credit, a tiny hint of praise, they sit stony faced, unable to offer a hint of affection. Unlike the three siblings, who express a whole range of emotions, the parents display none and it strains credulity.
One element of the story in particular could have used some pruning. I have often complained at how Korean shows are bloated with scenes of meals and this one may claim the top spot, against formidable competition. It doesn't help that, to my Western eyes, the food looked so unappealing but even setting that aside My Liberation Notes needed to go on a radical diet. I ended up speeding through every useless moment of people eating and drinking and I lost nothing of the story or the development of the characters by doing so. Nor will you.
On the other hand, Park does use one usually unlovable trope of Korean drama to extraordinary effect - people talking and expecting responses that never come. The non-answers and evasions pile up one on top of the other in all kinds of ways and are alternatively frustrating and appropriate. They force the audience to fill in the blanks and not have the writer and the characters do everything for you.
This story also repeatedly asks an existential question, not for the first time in the history of drama but nevertheless subtly and sometimes not so subtly, about the meaning of life and the point of our own temporary existence on this planet. In olden times and for many people even today, religion so often sought to provide answers or at least comfort but there is little or none of that in My Liberation Notes. All the characters toil away, sometimes resentfully but always diligently and with bursts of self-awareness. In one scene, the older daughter says she wants to be happy in this life. In another particularly pointed scene, a man says of life, when you're finally done with education, job-hunting, having kids, raising them, you move on to their education, job-hunting and raising children all over again. A man and a woman should meet and fall in love and that should be the end. But, he says, that sounds cold, like you're saying, "I don't love you that much.", so they don't say it and they open the door to a lifetime of hardship. If there is a good answer to why we are here or what we should be doing while we are here, the show does not give it but it clearly implies that we should not just passively accept the boredom and discomfort of everyday life. While we are here, let's make what we can of what we have, and be happy, if only, as Kim says, for five minutes a day. If I have misunderstood, at least I was made to think and you will too.
A word about the actors. The cast is uniformly strong and that includes quite a number of lesser characters. The two sisters, in particular Li El, give remarkable layered performances which will evoke sympathy and even admiration; Lee Min-ki on the other hand, good as he is, cannot entirely escape how insufferable his character is, self-righteous to others and self-pitying to himself - Park consistently makes you want to slap him and shut him up, whereas you never feel that way about Li El or Kim Ji-won, a rising star whose reptation can only be enhanced by her work here. Son Seok-koo, as Gu, seems to be reprising his dour persona in the rather wonderful "Be Melodramatic", aka "Melo Is My Nature" (2019), again stripped down, quite effectively, to its essentials.
However, it all comes back to the writing. After My Mister and the earlier Another Ms. Oh!, Park Hae-young has shown us that she is one of the most original and effective writers in the K-Drama world. I for one intend to follow her wherever she takes us next.
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