I’m posting @Welmaris’ critique here. Thanks, @Welmaris! I’m only adding the gifs. — pm3

My Liberation Notes is written by the same screenwriter as My Mister, which I thought masterfully done. My Mister depicts the lives and tribulations of three brothers and one outsider: an impoverished girl who, as an orphan caring for a disabled grandmother, is on the fringes of society. In My Liberation Notes we again have the story revolving around three siblings: an older sister, a brother, and a younger sister. The outlier in My Liberation Notes is Mr. Gu, a hired hand who helps the parents of the siblings with their farm and in their shop making sink cabinets. Although these two Kdramas have similarities in their story setup, I’m interested to see if writer Park Hae Young weaves a new narrative.

Part of the tension in My Mister comes from middle aged men coming to grips with their unrealized dreams from youth and their soul-crushing existences: one brother is separated from his wife after multiple failures in business; one brother is outwardly successful in career and marriage, but both are in turmoil; and another brother’s career as a film director hasn’t taken off. They have a mother who loves and worries about them, even though they are all in their 40s. There are also longtime friends who emotionally support the brothers through their ups and downs.

In My Liberation Notes, we see that the three siblings are employed in Seoul, but still live with their parents in a rural area outside the city. They appear settled in their careers, but not flourishing. The distance of their home from their jobs creates tension because their long commute cuts into time that could be spent socializing with coworkers or dating. The siblings’ hardworking parents provide them a stable home and seem relatively loving, but their father is a man of few words. The siblings have a circle of peers they grew up with, but question whether these are true friendships or acquaintances of convenience.

I noticed that when the siblings talk among themselves or with their peers, verbal brutality often appears in their conversation. Most often it is the oldest sister and the brother that speak in a toxic manner, but one of their hometown gang who now lives in Seoul can also be cruel. They don’t just voice opinions about matters at hand, but pass judgment on others’ personalities and character. With friends and family like this, who needs enemies?

In Episode 2 after meeting for drinks in Seoul with her siblings and childhood friends, including the one who’s moved into the city, the youngest sister reflects as she stares out the taxi window during the long drive home. Her thoughts are shown as an altered reality, the colors different from what she’d just experienced, the periphery blurry. The unnie from her hometown who now lives in Seoul is speaking, although in Mi Jeong’s vision her lips aren’t always moving, so we don’t know if all these words were actually spoken, or some spring from Mi Jeong’s imagination:

“People are so good with words. Once you reach a certain point, you start playing with your words. And once you start to enjoy drawing attention to yourself with your words…there’s no turning back. Do you think there’s even a single thing coming out of my mouth that’s actually worthwhile? There isn’t. Not one. So I don’t want you to ever reach that point. It feels like I’m taking a detour because I’m too afraid to walk on the right path. But I’ve come so far away that I can’t even dare to turn back. I like that you don’t try to get attention from people with your words. That’s why each and every word you utter is so special….I was like you in my previous life and decided to live recklessly if I were born again. And that’s me now. Then I’ll realize that this isn’t right either and decide to have a quiet life the next time around. And that’s you. You and I have been switching back and forth millions of times. Why are you acting so naïve?”

The youngest sister is the quiet one, even at home. Voiceovers allow us to hear her inner thoughts; we become privy to the workings of her mind in ways her family, coworkers, and friends may not. She appears compliant. She’s the only one we see helping her mother in the kitchen. She helps her parents harvest on a hot day; her brother only does so after being nagged, and her oldest sister leaves the house after refusing to work in the heat. It is the youngest sister the mother regularly sends to deliver food to Mr. Gu, the hired help.

In Episode 1 we learn that Mi Jeong has an unusual way of managing her life’s stresses:

“If I imagine that I’m sitting here working next to you, even awful tasks like these turn into something beautiful. Work becomes bearable. I’m playing a role of a woman who is loved. A woman who has everything she needs. Right now, I love someone, and that someone is supporting me. So I want to imagine I’m at peace. That I’m already enjoying the good times that I’ll be spending with you. That’s how I want to think of it. Rather than going through exhausting, difficult times without you, isn’t it more admirable that I’m finding strength thinking of you?”

This internal monologue tells me Mi Jeong:

— Is struggling at work.
— Does not feel loved.
— Feels she is lacking.
— Does not sense support from her family or friends.
— Is not feeling at peace.
— Does not currently consider herself to be in a good time. Her times are exhausting and difficult.
— Must convince herself it is okay to gather strength from a person residing in her thoughts.

Who is this person Mi Jeong is leaning on? We find out more as Mi Jeong’s voiceover continues.

“No matter where I lived…I think I would have been the same. Regardless of where I lived, my life would have been just like this. I’d be living the same mundane life, and no one would ever be interested in me. I felt like if I live like this for too long, I’d shrivel up and die. That’s why I invented you. You, who I’ll meet someday. To you, at least…I wouldn’t be that ordinary, right? I don’t know who you are. I don’t even know where you are. And I’ve never met you. Who…are you?”

Rather than feeling she can lean on the real people in her life, Mi Jeong has created an imaginary hero, someone who can fulfill her every emotional need and put all her issues to rest. This does not strike me as being a healthy coping mechanism.

I hadn’t forgotten Mr. Gu. Even his employers don’t know his full name. Where he came from, his history, are mysteries to the siblings, their parents, and us viewers. He is also a man of few words, mostly because he keeps to himself. Even when others are around, he sits alone and stares into the distance. He is a competent worker. Although he sometimes dines with his employers, he doesn’t join the whole family for their meals; we viewers don’t know whether invitations have been offered or refused. Every night he sits outside his lodging and drinks soju.

The show has created tension between Mr. Gu and Mi Jeong in subtle ways. When they’re near one another they don’t look at each other, but it is obvious they’re aware of their proximity. There are times when one looks at the other without being noticed. When a need arises for them to speak, they keep it short and impersonal. But after Mi Jeong informs Mr. Gu she’s having mail sent to his address, he runs to intercept the letter from the mailman.

What are we to think of the end of Episode 2? In the prelude to Mi Jeong’s interchange with Mr. Gu, we hear her voiceover as she makes her long commute home: “I’m exhausted. I don’t know when it all started to go wrong, but I’m exhausted. Every relationship feels like work. Every moment that I’m awake…feels like work. Nothing ever happens. No one ever likes me.” As she’s having this thought, walking toward her home, she hesitates, turns, and walks to Mr. Gu sitting outside his house.

MJ: Why do you drink every day?
Gu: What else would I do?
MJ: Should I give you something to do? Should I give you something to do other than drink? Worship me. I’ve never felt whole before. One asshole after another…Every guy I’ve ever dated was an asshole. So worship me and make me feel whole. It’ll be winter soon. Nothing survives when winter comes. There will be nothing to see sitting there and no work at the factory. If you drink all day, you’ll only feel like crap. It’ll be like hell. You have to do something. I want to feel whole for once. So worship me. Love isn’t enough. Worship me.

source: seawherethesunsets’ tumblr

During this exchange, Mi Jeong is looking intently, unsmilingly at Mr. Gu, tears glistening in her eyes but not falling. Mr. Gu looks back at her, no judgment of her words discernable on his face, but he does swallow a few times. We know he was listening carefully, because we see him afterwards look up the meaning of the word she used repeatedly: 추앙 (chuang). The subs say the definition of this word is to look up to in high regard, with the English meanings being respect, worship, reverence. My Papago app translates 추앙 as reverence, (formal) veneration, adoration, (formal) revere, (formal) venerate. Alone in his house, his response to this clarification appears to be disbelief and dismay. He looks up to the heavens, then hangs his head, followed by burying his face in his hands.

Mi Jeong is not propositioning Mr. Gu with an equal relationship, although she does suggest it will be mutually beneficial: he will make her feel whole; she will give him purpose. She is unapologetic about his being the inferior in the relationship. She is to be godlike to him, if he fails to worship her, she anticipates his life to be hellish. He will live to serve her needs; his emotional needs don’t concern her. She must become his new addiction. That’s a big, unhealthy ask from someone she barely knows. A person as mentally unstable as Mi Jeong appears to be needs more therapy than getting a doting boyfriend or devoted disciple.