Writing Analysis
Conflict within Conflict within Conflict — Analysis of K-Drama “Dokkaebi”
I don’t watch K-dramas (Korean soap operas) all the time, but when I do, I analyze the sh*t out of them.
“Dokkaebi” (Korean for “troll” or “goblin”) is by far one of the best examples of storytelling to come out of South Korea and, honestly, all of modern television.
The series (known as “Guardian: The Lonely and Great God” in English) is memorable and heart-wrenching due to the embedding of conflict within conflict within conflict. The story has all the trappings of a tragedy (though I won’t spoil whether those tragic promises are followed through).
Plot: spanning fallen kings and modern Seoul
Our hero, the “goblin,” is a disgraced warrior who, centuries ago, was assassinated by his king for attempting to save the queen. The king, whom he advised, was the warrior’s best friend, and the queen his (the warrior’s) sister. As punishment for his betrayal, Death cursed him with immortality, forcing him to remember his horrible life instead of passing on to the next. (We’re in a Buddhist world here, so rebirth plays a prominent role.) But as compensation for the noble act of saving his sister from a tyrant (in marriage and as a ruler), Death grants him the opportunity to die when he meets his “wife,” the only human with the ability to kill him.
Fast-forward to modern day Seoul. The crotchety old goblin, preserved forever in his late twenties/early thirties, keeps running into the same annoying high school senior. (Their relationship never gets sexual; still problematic, but the series emphasizes their mutual respect and the platonic ways they care for each other.) As he gets to know her, he realizes she is his wife. But too late! He’s already fallen in love with her, and she with him.
Instead of revealing himself and her purpose, he opts for the good life: afternoon strolls, cooking dinner together, movie nights.
The twists will twist your heart
How ironic, right? For centuries, the goblin had wanted to forget everything — the death of his sister; his inability as the king’s advisor, confidante, and warrior to protect her; the multiple betrayals committed by and against him — and move on in peace. Now that he’s met the one person who can help him achieve this, he no longer wants it. He wants to live, to remember every moment with her.
But death keeps making attempts on the girl’s life. With his supernatural prescient abilities (not clear how he got these; I believe they were part of the deal Death gave him), the Dokkaebi is able to thwart each attempt, but they get increasingly elaborate and force him to make harder choices. If a public transit bus is about to run into the Dokkaebi’s wife, how does he save her without sacrificing everyone on the bus?
As it turns out, the human girl’s sole purpose was to kill the goblin. Without serving this purpose, she has none. Death is clawing her back.
Thus, he faces the ultimate internal conflict: does he force her to kill him, leaving her alone with the burdens of heartbreak and guilt? Or does he fight to protect her from death, disrupting the cosmic order and potentially sacrificing others for her life?
By this point, she has come to know of her destiny as well, leaving her with an equally heartbreaking choice: does she kill him, bringing him respite from the world and restoring the cosmic order? (There’s a “Final Destination” kind of philosophy that everyone who is destined to die absolutely has to.) Or does she live, thus fighting for their love and chancing their odds against fate?
Korea and magic: a lovely combination
What I love about this series is that, in addition to constructing/making use of really good classical storytelling components, the writer seamlessly blends traditional folklore and classical Eastern thinking into modern-day Seoul.
It’s motivating to see something so steeped in tradition and Korean-ness do well on an international scale, because it taps into timeless and universal themes we can all relate to.
Get this: grim reapers are sullen humanoid figures who walk around in Men-in-Black uniform, wielding earpieces and clipboards that tell them who they’re supposed to collect that day. Once they’ve collected their passengers, they wake up together in a tea room, complete with sliding rice paper walls, where the grim reaper offers feedback. (“You did the best you could,” “You lived a good life,” “You could have done better.”) To those who are worthy of passing on, the reaper brings a cup of tea. The tea cleanses the deceased’s memory and allows them to move on. Sometimes they are born into better positions, sometimes they are not. The egregious wrongdoers are condemned to rebirth without the tea (into a non-human lifeform), to remember all the atrocities they committed, while the most egregious wrongdoers are condemned to become grim reapers. They will wake with no memory, only with the knowledge that they committed something horrible enough to become a collector of souls and a witness to all of humanity’s collective sins.
A prolific writer who makes use of speculative elements, Kim Eun-Sook stated during several interviews her intention to base her next script on Korean folklore. Dokkaebi took hours of research delving into Korean and even Japanese literature. Easter eggs throughout the series refer to different aspects of the goblin. To be honest, the dokkaebi wasn’t recognizable at all to me. Dokkaebi are often depicted as mischievous, fanged and horned creatures, at least in the bedtime stories I was shown.
I find the show incredibly inspirational as a writer. It’s motivating to see something so steeped in tradition and Korean-ness do well on an international scale, because it taps into timeless and universal themes we can all relate to.
Give “Dokkaebi” a try if you’re a writer
Bitter conflicts and ironies lying all over the place — the girl who must either die or complete her purpose, which feels no less cruel than death; the man who wanted to forget suddenly wanting to remember after meeting the one person who could help him forget.
I just love this idea of memory as the ultimate punishment. How many of us still cringe and lay awake at night thinking about things we said and did ten years ago? How often do we still react to things that were done to us year ago, and how would that feel compounded on a multi-life timeline?
Another bonus — of course, always — is that the cast — the entire cast, especially the main quartet — is incredibly attractive. Eye candy always makes incredible story-crafting, acting, and production a lot brighter.
Dokkaebi isn’t available on Netflix or Amazon in the U.S. yet, but it is on Rakuten Viki!
