In *The Scandal*, Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’s *Dangerous Liaisons* is adapted and transposed to Joseon Dynasty Korea; the result is a striking display of black hats and colorful attire. It is something of a fashion show where actors pose and stride about, sporting magnificent garments with a regal air; this, combined with vibrant structures and towering trees—whose leaves drift gently to the ground or rustle in the wind—creates ethereal on-screen imagery that is a constant feast for the eyes. *The Scandal* is visually beautiful, and that beauty is both superficial and essential: without it, the series would be unwatchable, for even with such pleasing aesthetics, it is hard to keep from nodding off again and again.
*The Scandal* tests the viewer's patience to the limit. The narrative does not flow; instead, it moves in fits and starts. There are scenes intended to be lighthearted and comic—such as the one where So-ok (Shin Youn-ha), the new concubine destined to bear an heir for Lord Yoo (Lee Ji-hoon), is asked to copy the introductory chapter of Confucian teachings one hundred times—and others heavy with drama, such as the encounter between the widow Ahn Hui-yeon (Nana) and Cho Won (Ji Chang-wook), where both weep and he vows to keep her alive. The latter are so melodramatic and heavy-handed that they shatter the viewer's immersion, prompting a desire to simply close one's eyes and cover one's ears.
Stars: Son Ye-jin, Ji Chang-wook, Im Jin-ah
Everything falling between these two extremes feels inert and static, and these segments make up perhaps 90% to 95% of the series. This results in a sluggish, heavy pace; the plot drags so much that no energy remains to make the experience entertaining or even compelling. Many scenes fail miserably, inducing a sense of numbness that gradually spreads through the entire body. This story about a cruel wager between Won and his cousin and lover Cho Yun (Son Ye-jin)—centered on the seduction of the innocent Hui-yeon—lacks a mischievous or roguish tone. Director Jung Ji-woo is too conventional and straightforward to imbue his visuals with an electrifying sensual charge. Despite the presence of sexual content, the material fails to be erotic. This must be one of the least sensual sexual spectacles ever filmed.
Ji-woo brings neither spark nor style to his scenes; he simply points the camera at the set and the actors, recording everything in an impersonal manner. The viewer is left with no choice but to kill time examining costume patterns or wondering how much time and effort the characters spent applying makeup, braiding their hair, and getting dressed for the shoot. I also wondered if people in the Joseon era really dressed like that and how uncomfortable it must have been to relieve themselves in the woods while traveling. Nowadays, one can "do one's business" by simply lowering one's trousers or unzipping a fly; imagine these historical characters taking five minutes just to undo a single layer of clothing. I shudder to think of the predicament they would face in an urgent situation.
From the very beginning of the series, it is clear that Yun could have been a great writer or scholar had she not lived in a male-dominated society. The acclaim Won receives for his writing is rightfully Yun's, as she is the one who helps him reach extraordinary literary heights. Yet, the only parts worth listening to are the lascivious texts, which sound especially racy when read by the women in the series. In one episode, a woman caresses herself sensually while a female painter captures her likeness with care and curiosity. In the hands of a bolder director, those moments would have vibrated with a sensual spirit; ...under Ji-woo’s restrained direction, they come across merely as a simulation of sensuality.
The director drains all life from the series; were it a sexual organ, it would be flaccid. Furthermore, Hui-yeon is such an uninteresting character that the genuine attraction Won eventually feels for her rings hollow. The elaborate costumes possess more spark than anything Hui-yeon says or does throughout the series.
If I were Won, I would have admitted defeat and started courting So-ok to fulfill Yun’s objective. It is no surprise that one remains unmoved when, in the end, the series attempts to veer into tragedy. Above all, Ji-woo succeeds only in keeping the viewer cold and bored throughout the production. Consequently, nothing in *The Scandal* manages to stir any real emotion.
This eight-episode fashion parade demonstrates more love for its production design than for its story. Perhaps the series’ target audience consists of people who admire tasteful furniture and fabrics. *The Scandal* is made for objectophiles.
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