On the actress's birthday, here's looking at her portrayals of raw grief
IU’s tears have a life of their own.
There’s an incredible versatility in the tears. It ranges from quiet, unshed tears to the loud sobs. It’s something her fans brought up on Twitter the other day, defending from a naysayer who dismissed her as the actress ‘who just keeps crying’.
For sure, it’s reductive, and you’ll root for the fans who defended her and shared the many, many examples of the different levels of anguish that IU has exhibited in her shows, and even the music video, Love Wins All, a bittersweet apocalyptic tale, featuring BTS’ V.
The truth is, IU is an actress who seems to have understood that grief has infinite shades, hues and nuances. It doesn’t appear under just one block: There’s the suppressed, raging sadness, mixed with bitterness as we saw with her character Man-wol in Hotel Del Luna. On the surface, she is the vicious, foul-mouthed ghostly manager of a hotel that houses unrested spirits on their way to heaven. But as the series unfolds, we return to an ancient time and see the reasons for her heartbreak and rage. It’s particularly painful as IU traverses between the two timelines, showing the different versions of the person that she used to be. And slowly, you can see the sadness softening. The hardened shell of grief cracks, as she joins Jin-goo’s Koo Chan-sung in helping the restless spirits find peace, along with their loved ones.
The show ends on a rather melancholy note, as she returns to a more peaceful world, but with memories of the love that she has found in her last days. There are tears, but this time, they fall gently, mixed with a little happiness. And that’s where IU shows again another side of grief: Profound acceptance, with the sorrow of leaving behind the love she always wanted.
And that’s the surreal magic of IU in Hotel Del Luna. Yet IU’s emotional depth isn’t confined to the fantastical realms of Hotel Del Luna. In My Mister, she portrayed a woman with limited means, weary in a life of daily struggles and trying to finally seek comfort.
Cut to 2025, IU’s latest show, When Life Gives You Tangerines, saw her in the dual role. She plays the feisty, rebellious Ae-sun from the rural area of Jeju, the daughter of another strong woman, who scrapes the bottom of the sea for precious abalones. Gradually, Ae-sun’s naivete dissolves, the cranky tears, become silent echoes of grief, especially during a heartbreaking scene, where she loses her child. It’s probably the most agonising watch in the series, or even in IU’s career, as she clutches her son, repeatedly asking for a doctor, in the midst of a storm.
The loss never leaves her; it’s etched in her expressions throughout. Eventually, the story shifts, and an older Ae-sun takes her place, while IU returns as Ae-sun’s daughter—a distinct character, forged with steel and grit. It’s a portrait of the elder-daughter syndrome: burdened by responsibility, unwavering in resolve, and quietly refusing to settle for less. And these are just her television shows: IU and BTS’ V played lovers on the run from death in Love Wins All. There’s longing for their old world of love and happiness, the resigned acceptance that their time is shunted, and yet the joy of being together.
So, whenever there’s an IU film or TV announcement, fans have faith. They know that she has made the right choice.
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