Can This Love be Translated review: Kim Seon-ho brings the calm to Go Youn-jung's anxious storm

I’ve returned with the food references, please forgive me this time.

But truly, after watching Can This Love be Translated, reminds me of this one time that my friends and I sought out colourful, vibrant café that served creative and choicest desserts.

They were immaculate:  Sometimes they were chocolate jiggling cat puddings, otherwise they were decadent cups of coffee cakes in very elaborate bowls, shaped like bunny rabbits or inside a coconut.

We took photos. We didn’t want to break the spell, at first.

But we did. It was tasty. I liked it. At some points, the veneer of fondness wore thin, and I was ploughing through it, just to finish what I had started. It didn’t ruin or upset my experience. I enjoyed it. But I was a little wistful. I wished it was as delicious as it looked.

You get the idea.

Can This Love Be Translated is a gorgeous, calming watch. If you aren’t a fan of slow and languid storytelling, then you should watch it just for the views. The story moves quite quickly in the first few episodes before it settles into webs of complacency. Kim Seon-ho plays Hu-jin, a man fluent in many languages—except the one that truly matters: speaking with unguarded honesty. He meets Cha Mu-hee (Go Youn-jung), a celebrity wrestling with betrayal and grief, who needs help confronting the woman who upended her life.

A reluctant Hu-jin steps in as translator, but softens as he sees the brokenness behind Mu-hee’s rage and grief. The introductory scenes between the two are mixed with a quiet restraint as well as the joy of a meet-cute. An unsaid friendship is formed, but life changes for Mu-hee, who suffers an accident during a film shoot, and is comatose for six months.

She wakes up as a superstar with her alter-ego Do Ra-mi---the zombie character she plays in her movie. Do Ra-mi doesn’t leave her be; she is brazen, free and even a tad creepy, resembling Mu-hee’s internal spiraling chaos.

Go Youn-jung is magnetic, as a woman trying to maintain an outwardly calm, uncertain of how to piece herself together. There’s an anxiety that seeps through the screen when she is present, perhaps because she is a little too real for a K-Drama. At the heart: She doesn’t clearly see herself as someone who deserves to be loved. It’s heartbreaking and Youn-jung’s frantic energy reflects in the way she laughs, moves and even looks at Hu-jin.

And then there’s Hu-jin, earnest, yet avoidant of his own emotions. He struggles to understand Mu-hee, let alone himself, suppressing his heartbreak and dismissing it as insignificant. Still, it weighs him down Pain has become his default; it’s simply easier that way. Seon-ho always portrays this beautifully—whether in Start-Up or Hometown Cha Cha Cha, his characters always carry more depth than the typical “male lead.”

The ending is peaceful: It takes the entrance of  Hiro Kurosawa (Sota Fukushi) for our two leads to understand each other. She stops hiding from herself. He understands the reasons behind her wild, erratic behaviour and consistency.

Can This Love Be Translated is a pleasant, languid watch, with soothing chemistry and emotion that resonates in every word and translation. The middle section does drag at times, requiring patience to reach a satisfying payoff. It may not be everyone’s cup of tea, leaning a touch heavily into whimsy, but despite that, it remains an enjoyable and quietly memorable experience.

Not every bite is perfect, and not every scene sparkles, but like that whimsical café dessert, but the show does leave a sweet, lingering taste.