K-Drama Rewind, It's Okay to Not Be Okay: Seo Ye-ji and Oh Jung-se break and heal you—beyond Kim Soo-hyun

In one of the most searing scenes of the show, a broken Moon Ka-young (Seo Ye-ji) begs for forgiveness from Sang Tae. She cries for the crimes that her mother committed, and a nervous Sang Tae comforts her. It’s one of the most raw, profound scenes of the show---just one of the many in the series It’s Okay Not to Be Okay.

The show, starring Yea-ji, Kim Soo-hyun and Oh Jung-sae catalpulted to an astronomical sensation owing to its portrayal of mental health, repression and the seeping effects of childhood trauma and conditioning. In the series, Soo hyun plays the role of Gang Tae a caregiver and nurse, whose life has been dedicated to taking care of his autistic brother, Sang Tae, ever since their mother was murdered.

He does his duty quietly, seemingly without complaints, entertaining his brother’s questions: But it’s all a mask. He has smothered his emotions so coldly that it’s almost a glassy mask, that is revealed by, ironically a sociopathic author, Ka-young.

Given that it’s K-Drama tropes, their childhoods are entwined in the most horrific way possible. Of course, the emotions burst forth like a dam. And till Episode 10, the show is painful, almost agonising to watch, only because it cuts too close to the bone. The complexities of human nature are revealed in such a brutal way: Gang Tae’s own emotions about his brother from childhood return to confront him, and in one of the most brilliantly written scenes in K-Drama history, Sang Tae lashes out at him. “You wanted me dead, you wanted me dead,” while a terrified, tear-streaked Gang Tae crouches in the corner.

The show is filled with several such scenes, building up the tension masterfully of the trio. However, as the secrets spill and the truth about Moon ka-young’s mother is out in the open, the story starts to wobble and falls into the weak plot holes and contrivances that you had begun to believe that might not exist. Some questions are never answered and you’re left to make your own wearied conclusions. How did the mother survive? And why were her last few scenes playing out like a bad Bollywood film?

Nevertheless, the acting is powerful, with credits to all three, especially Oh Jung-sae, as the autistic brother, who can wring your heart in one moment, and make you laugh in the next. The bond between the brothers is truly endearing to watch, and the slow companionship that builds up between Sang Tae and a defiant Moon Ka-young who is determined to earn his friendship. And the last few scenes: After what seems like 15 episodes of trauma, the trio head for the road trip that they always dreamed of.

 The romance is decent too, a tad prolonged at times: The mainstay remains the brotherhood and the friendships. Despite the glitches, It’s Okay Not to Be Okay still remains a solidly painful watch. It gives you hope, even if it takes it away at points. It reminds you to breathe, and maybe, just, maybe, let loose, instead of bottling your emotions.