The year is 1981, and a veteran actress named Hee-Ran looks through the script of a new kind of film in Korean cinema. The film is titled “Aema,” and as soon as Hee-Ran flicks through it in her business class seat, she asks for a full bottle of whiskey, puts on her dark shades, and tries to sleep. Meanwhile, there’s a girl named Shun Ju-Ae who has big dreams of becoming Korea’s next Hee-Ran. All she wants is fame and freedom, but will she get that in an industry notorious for botching female agency? Is she really getting her big break, or will she want a break from life after achieving her big dream? This is the basic premise of Netflix’s latest and greatest, but is it the feminist masterpiece we’ve been waiting for, or does it peddle the same exploitation that it’s trying to expose? Let’s get into it.
Set in the 80s, the TV show manages to capture the era beautifully, despite the shock of the sex and debauchery we get to witness. The show calls out the double standards of the industry and possibly the country as well, because while an actress is expected to have come from a humble and modest background, on screen she can bare it all. Yet if she’s been a showgirl before, it means her character is to be questioned. The story is compelling almost from the opening act, where a famous actress crashes a party and beats up her producer ex-fiancé. You can already tell it’s quite an exciting TV show.
Over the years I’ve been covering K-dramas, I’ve learned that Netflix’s K-world specifically drops some of their most unique work, in one go, during peak season. Shows like Chicken Nugget, Dear Hongrang, and then, of course, the popular stuff like Sweet Home all get bingeable releases rather than the usual 2-episodes-a-week formula. What makes these shows different? I suppose it’s a little bit about the thrill. From recent memory, I can think of Trigger, which made waves as a thriller that was released all at once on a Friday. These shows can be a hit or a miss, but I’ve noticed that the ones with the most unique messaging and thrilling premises end up coming out on top. Aema is certainly one of them.
The show certainly nails the kooky and thrilling aspects with major action sequences, including horseback riding and a grandfather clock falling onto a police car. Half the male characters are repulsive, and the others are stupid, so it feels almost meta that the film they’re making in the show, “Madame Aema,” is hoping to give a stage to female pleasure and agency. Netflix immediately gives you a nudity and sex warning, amongst other things, as the show begins, but I found it interesting that we never see the full female form, just as the film within the show, “Madame Aema,” is censored. There are titillating moments, but they majorly expose the male actor and focus on the feelings of the woman.
So no, I don’t think Aema is exploitative, even if it shows us the uncomfortable truths about an industry that is male-dominated and puts women in difficult positions, despite being dependent on them. It’s mainly about a power play between Hee-Ran, an actress who has been in the industry for 30 years, and the industry itself. The 6-episode series balances a bunch of different story lines, though I feel like a longer run-time might’ve been slightly beneficial here. It explores female friendships, mentorship, and the importance of having a support system when entering a field so treacherous.
I can’t go without talking about the performances, and I must admit that while I recognized a lot of the cameos or supporting actors, I have not seen either lead actress in anything before. This is quite the shame, because they’re both absolutely mesmerizing in their own way. Lee Ha-Nee is impeccable as the actress with experience and the crowd at her feet. She shines the most when she’s being straight-up mean. The actress embodies Hee-Ran, and since this is the first time I’m watching her, I can’t separate the two, which I mean as a compliment, because she was just that good as this character. On the other hand, there’s Bang Hyo-Rin. I believe this is her debut series, and she’s perfect as the young and innocent Ju-Ae. She has to have a star quality about herself, but she also needs to look afraid and meek at the beginning of the show while still being ambitious and determined. The contradictions are plentiful, and I think she nailed it. The rest of the cast is also excellent, but I must shout out Park Hae-Joon for always owning the role of the dirtiest prick in town.
But is it a feminist masterpiece or an exploitative thriller? So, to answer my question, I do think there are qualities to Aema that make it an excellent show that is truly entertaining in every way, while still having emotional resonance. It toes the line between reality and fantasy and gives us a lot to think about. It’s definitely got interesting commentary, but you can walk out of it just feeling excited about the show itself. The show borrows from real-life films and historical moments in the background, but it is still entirely fictional and original. The film “Madame Aema” is a real thing, but its content within the show is very different from the actual film. All the Korean shows set in this historical period I’ve seen so far have always been dark and gritty, rather than extravagant and cheeky. Aema stands out from the crowd in the best way and leaves a memorable mark. But this is not to dismiss the political climate of the time, we’re just seeing it with a new perspective, one that focuses on censorship and hypocrisy.
I can’t say it’s a masterpiece for sure, but I do think it’s nearly there, and a few tweaks would make all the difference. I also must admit that Jin Sun-Kyu is diabolical, and Jung-Ho definitely plays a huge role in making the story come alive. I’d give Aema 4 out of 5 stars, because while it’s not perfect and only slightly lacking, it’s still thoroughly entertaining, and sometimes that’s all we need.
