In this blog post, I’ll explore the meaning and characteristics of romantic dramas. By analyzing the characters, setting, and plot of “Christmas in August,” I’ll discuss the emotions and lingering impact created by the motifs of restrained love and death.
What Is a Melodrama?
What images typically come to mind when you think of a melodrama? A movie full of whining? A movie that turns everything into a sea of tears? A movie where the male and female leads engage in the usual romantic antics, and it can’t end unless one of them dies? A movie women watch just to cry? A movie men can’t stand? A movie with a predictable plot? A movie just for women? I’d like to move beyond these stereotypical images of melodramas and provide a more professional definition.
Let’s explain these two genres—romantic comedy and melodrama—by comparing them to the seasons. If romantic comedy corresponds to spring or summer, then melodrama corresponds to fall or winter. This is because romantic comedy is a genre that embodies an “uplifting atmosphere.” The narrative unfolds through two main characters—a man and a woman—who are quirky, lively, and full of energy. Although conflicts arise along the way due to socio-economic differences or personality clashes, the story ultimately concludes with a happy ending, eliciting laughter and a uplifting resolution.
Melodramas, on the other hand, are genres that embody a “downward trajectory.” Although it deals with the same theme of love between a man and a woman as a romantic comedy, the atmosphere and character setups are entirely different. A melodrama is a sad story that stirs the emotions. While a romantic comedy may elicit laughter at any moment through the dialogue and actions of its quirky protagonists, a melodrama has an atmosphere that makes it feel as though one might burst into tears at any time. Music is used very effectively as a device to evoke these emotions. Therefore, Moon Jae-cheol (2005) defines melodramas as “dramatic narratives in which emotional effects are musically constructed.”
In contrast, romantic comedies feature male and female protagonists who seem to mock—and at times even ridicule—social conventions and norms of etiquette through their eccentric responses. Because their characters are so unconventional, they refuse to blindly follow social standards and confidently push forward with their own standards. Consequently, they ultimately overcome these social conventions and end up getting married. In contrast, melodramas primarily tell the stories of vulnerable individuals who are dominated by and sacrificed to social conventions. While this is not always the case, it is primarily “women” who are dominated by and sacrificed to social conventions in melodramas. In a society like ours, women are generally dominated and victimized by the customs of a patriarchal society. Therefore, Thomas Schatz (1995) defines melodramas as “popular love stories in which innocent individuals or couples are victimized by an oppressive and unequal social environment related to everyday issues such as marriage, careers, and the nuclear family.”
In melodramas, the sorrow and pain of women sacrificed by patriarchal social customs are expressed through exaggerated music and over-the-top acting. This causes viewers to become emotionally overwhelmed, ultimately leading them to shed tears. This is why melodramas are sometimes referred to as “tear-jerkers.”
In my view, melodramas are a “genre of comfort.” Through the catharsis that comes from shedding tears, melodramas naturally provide audiences with the opportunity and conditions to cry—even in situations where they might otherwise find it impossible to do so, no matter how difficult their circumstances may be. This puts viewers at ease by allowing them to conceal their own wounds and pain, as if they were not crying over their own suffering. If romantic comedies provide viewers with a sense of relief by offering a provisional solution to conflicts, melodramas offer comfort and solace by encouraging viewers to release their emotions regarding those conflicts.
Why Melodramas Are Great
I don’t really like watching movies. So even action movies—which men are supposed to love—are just so-so to me. They seem boring and somehow implausible. I’ve heard that if you imagine yourself as the protagonist, it’s thrilling and fun, but with my extremely realistic personality, I can never do that. Movies are movies, and I am me. When I watch a movie with my girlfriend, I realize how differently I approach it compared to her, and all I can think about is getting married as soon as possible so I can save the money I’d spend on movie tickets and put it toward our household expenses. They say only those who truly know how to watch movies can appreciate them—perhaps I took this “Study of Film Genres” class out of a subtle desire to develop that discerning eye.
As someone who’s a complete novice when it comes to movies and doesn’t really know how to enjoy them, if I had to pick a genre I somewhat like, it would be romantic dramas. That’s because when I’m feeling down or discouraged, seeing the protagonists in romantic dramas cry over their sorrow and pain makes me unconsciously feel as if they’re crying for me—and sometimes, tears well up in my own eyes too. (Of course, secretly, without my girlfriend knowing ^^)
As I mentioned earlier, it seems that melodramas are a genre that provides audiences with an outlet to release repressed emotions and sadness. In a society where men are told they should only cry three times in their lives—or something to that effect—and where men have nowhere to cry, the dark theater where melodramas are shown is, for me, the only place where I’m allowed to secretly shed a few tears. That’s why, every now and then, even though it might seem a bit pathetic, I feel a strong urge to go see a melodrama that’s incredibly sad—all by myself. Of course, I haven’t actually tried it yet…
“Christmas in August” as a Melodrama – An Analysis Based on Narrative
Since it’s a melodrama, there are naturally male and female protagonists whose love story unfolds. The male and female leads in ‘Christmas in August’ are “Han Seok-gyu” (playing Jeong-won), a photographer who runs the Chowon Photo Studio, and “Shim Eun-ha” (playing Da-rim), a parking enforcement officer. Neither character exhibits the quirky personalities or bubbly, lively energy often seen in romantic comedy leads. They are simply quiet. They’re just calm. They’re just introverted.
On a sweltering summer day, Jeong-won is utterly exhausted after attending the funeral of his friend Cheol-gu’s father. As Jeong-won sits in his photo studio, completely drained, Darim ignores his request to come back later and, claiming she’s in a hurry, urges him to develop her photos quickly. In this situation, Jeong-won can’t even get angry. She can’t even raise her voice to yell. She merely frowns slightly…
Dal-im is no different. Although she urged her, she couldn’t push the issue to the end; she just tossed the film in front of Jeong-won and walked out. Perhaps feeling uneasy herself, she simply stood outside under a tree. Seeing Dal-im standing outside, Jeong-won hands her an ice cream cone that looks like it’s about to melt on this sweltering day. That’s how Jeong-won and Dal-im’s encounter begins.
As you can see from this scene, Jeong-won and Dal-im—even their names alone are anything but flashy. “Chowon Photo Studio,” run by Jeong-won. It’s a name with a natural feel to it. And their occupations are also extremely ordinary and everyday. Jeong-won is a photographer at a run-down photo studio. Dal-im is a parking enforcement officer. The names and occupations of these two protagonists—neither flashy nor particularly sophisticated—combined with their quiet, somewhat introverted personalities and tendency to keep their feelings to themselves, create character settings that strongly evoke the atmosphere of a romantic drama.
Dal-im is a parking enforcement officer. Her job requires her to constantly photograph and develop license plates. Because of this, once she steps into “Chowon Photo Studio,” she has no choice but to keep requesting photo prints there. Consequently, she finds herself in a situation where she inevitably runs into Jeong-won frequently. Jeong-won, who was recently dumped by his ex-girlfriend Ji-seon, feels his heart die a little more each time he hears her cold request to remove his photos. Hiding the pain of his heartbreak, Jeong-won carries on with his work at the photo studio. One day, when Darim arrives as usual, he notices that she’s wearing makeup and a short skirt—a change from before—and cautiously asks her out on a date. Off to Seoul Land—Go Go!
It’s the first and last date of their brief, unspoken romance. When Jeong-won says he feels dizzy, Darim sits him down on a bench and goes to buy ice cream and drinks. Watching Darim from afar, Jeong-won reflects on how her attitude—and his own feelings—are anything but ordinary… But it seems like there really isn’t much time left… They run around the empty playground, take a bath at the neighborhood public bathhouse drenched in sweat, buy tangerines from a street stall at the edge of the neighborhood and peel them to eat, and walk down the alley as dusk falls, telling ghost stories. To Dal-im, who says she’s afraid of ghosts, Jeong-won says, “Ghosts… sometimes they’re scary, and other times they’re not. It’s not like people die and become ghosts. It’s the same for you and me. If you think of it that way, they’re not scary at all…” It must have been the happiest day the two spent together in that brief romance, during which they never managed to say “I love you.”
A few days later, Dal-im’s work assignment changes, so she goes to the Chowon Photo Studio to tell Jeong-won. But the door is firmly locked. She comes back the next day, and the day after that, but the studio door remains locked, and Dal-im ends up breaking the innocent window in frustration. Will her deep, unspoken love for Jeong-won—which she never had the chance to confess—remain unspoken forever? She tries to convey her feelings through a letter, but days pass and the letter remains unopened. Darim is frantic. She’s frantic because she couldn’t even say “I love you.” Where on earth is Jeong-won? Where has he disappeared to? Why didn’t Jeong-won say anything to me?
A Love That Ends in Death and the Conclusion of ‘Christmas in August’
Whether or not Jeong-won is aware of Darim’s anxious wait for her to contact him, she is now lying on a white hospital bed. He sends her a reply along with a framed photo of Darim he had taken long ago, which he displays in the photo studio’s window. In this way, he answers Darim’s feelings and meets his end. Thus, the conflict and love between Jeong-won and Darim come to an end with Jeong-won’s death. Leaving behind one final line of dialogue…
Jeong-won: “I’d like to say thank you to you for letting me leave while still holding onto love.”
‘August Christmas’ also brings the story to a close by adopting the “motif of death” commonly found in romantic dramas.
“Christmas in August” Summary
“Christmas in August” belongs to the “male romance” subgenre of romantic dramas. While most romantic dramas fall under the “female romance” category, where women are often the ones who sacrifice themselves or die, this film uniquely adopts the structure of a “male romance” in which the man dies.
Furthermore, this film notably lacks depictions of the protagonists’ suffering or sacrifice stemming from social traditions or customs. There is no opposition from either set of parents to their relationship, nor is their love rendered impossible by economic disparities. Before such elements of conflict can even arise, the male lead, Jeong-won, dies—without ever having properly declared his love.
Furthermore, unlike typical romantic dramas, there are no signs of a serious conflict structure or overly dramatic emotional expressions. On the contrary, the emotions seem restrained. As a result, some viewers have criticized the film as being too bland, uninteresting, and boring. But is that really the case?
I believe it was 1999 when I first saw this film. What is the secret behind this film that allowed me—a high school student with no interest in movies at the time—to still remember it to this day, reflect on it, and hold onto its moving and poignant moments? It must be due to the music from the film’s soundtrack, combined with the way emotions are portrayed on screen—not through excess, but through restraint, which allows those feelings to be etched even more deeply into the viewer’s heart.
The protagonist in this film doesn’t sob uncontrollably. She doesn’t wail or weep loudly. They do not cry out their love for one another. There aren’t many tears to be seen in their eyes. But when I imagine the regret and longing of Jeong-won—who must die without even being able to confess his love—behind that tearless exterior, tears naturally well up in my own eyes. What is unseen is sadder than what is seen. What is unseen is more frightening than what is seen. What is unseen is more poignant than what is seen.
