Warning: mild spoilers ahead.
I always feel like I’m betraying my Asian culture when I say that I’ve never gotten into K-Dramas. Even though my friends can recite their favorite K-Dramas backwards and forwards, I’ve never found them to my taste. They’re always too slow, too cliche, and the worst part: too perfect. They set the most unrealistic expectations for a relationship! And their hair is always perfect!
I never thought the day would come when I would be genuinely hooked on a K-Drama. That is, until my brother and I started watching Extracurricular on Netflix.
The Rundown
Extracurricular follows the main character Ji-soo, who is a star student aiming for South Korea’s top universities, but is simultaneously quiet, unassuming, and not involved in any extracurriculars at his school. Little do people know, however, that he spends a great deal of his time coordinating activities for a prostitution business so that he can earn money for college. As he states in the show, “my dreams are expensive.”
At first glance, Ji-soo might seem despicable. But, throughout the show, I found myself empathizing with him. His story, as wild and perhaps unrealistic as it may be, is likely relatable and universal. Think about how many people in the world are like Ji-soo: people who have great potential with expensive ambitions, but either come from an underprivileged household, or, in Ji-soo’s case, an absent mother and a borderline psychotic father.
Ji-soo is such an interesting character particularly because of his conflicting duality. On one hand, he is a moral, kind, soft-spoken human being who has persevered through so many hardships in his life. You know that he’s a good person, which is why you can’t help but root for him, even though you also know that he’s involved in a real messy business that could ruin his life if he isn’t careful.
I couldn’t stop watching it. It was so unlike the typical slow-moving, lovey dovey K-Dramas that I’ve seen. This one was intense, dark, real, and suspenseful, along with some genuine laugh-out-loud moments too. That’s not to say that it didn’t contain some “typical” K-Drama elements; there were also a number of tender moments, but they never felt too perfect or choreographed. It was a very authentic portrayal of what high schoolers and young adults go through.
I also liked that this show had real messages and bold social commentary. It showed me that everyone is struggling with something, even if their lives seem perfectly in order. It shines a light on sexual abuse and the dark side of sex work, particularly involving teens and minors. My heart aches when thinking about how many young people, like Min-hee in the show, are involved in sex work because they need to earn money. It’s safe to say that most of the characters’ problems stem from one universal issue: desperation for money.
The actors all did a fantastic job. They were all young, new actors, and for many of them, this was their first big project. Many of them expressed that they felt a great deal of responsibility and pressure going into an R-rated Netflix K-Drama, as this was such a rare opportunity. This was their chance to prove that R-rated K-Dramas can succeed.
After watching, I am convinced beyond a doubt that I want to see more K-Dramas like this. Extracurricular proves that K-Dramas can be versatile, and that there doesn’t have to be a single romantic K-Drama trope. They can be tender as well as dark, gut-wrenching as well as healing, unpredictable as well as real. I’m crossing my fingers that Extracurricular will inspire more Korean filmmakers to take the leap and make more out-of-the-box TV shows like this.
But for now, I’m impatiently waiting for season 2.