MISUN:IMPOSSIBLE (MISUN:IMPOSSIBLE YouTube)
Oh Minji: Just like the title of the channel that evokes the movie title Mission Impossible, MISUN:IMPOSSIBLE is a show where comedian Park Misun attempts to do things that she thought were impossible. She makes a huge amount of dessert for White Day(South Korea’s extension of Valentine’s Day) to “have sweets like there’s no tomorrow.” She goes to (G)I-DLE’s experiential pop-up with the sole purpose of making her own merchandise. She unboxes album after same album to see what random gifts she got. She is out to “find joy and have fun” “doing things she’s never done before” even after “spending 35 years in front of the camera” as per her channel description. She ticks off items on her “Sun-ketlist,” invites her fellow comedians onto her channel, talk about their careers and their latest works on her mini-segment “Korean Comedian Talk Show (Kokkomoo),” and offers her words of encouragement to her guests, knowing how difficult being an entertainer can be. She also cooks for the boarding house residents on “Misun’s Sweet Home.” What Park told the “enjoycouple,” another comedian couple, is in fact synonymous with the message she seeks to spread with her channel: “Life changes bit by bit by bit. That’s what makes it fun.” Even if some of her experiences aren’t to her liking or do not go according to plan, she still looks for aspects that are unexpectedly “fun” and “quite all right.” 

Park says, “I hope we can endure through all odds and come out the other side winners.” And so, the advice that she gives the younger comedians as they carry out the various seemingly impossible “missions” resonate with all of us. In essence, MISUN:IMPOSSIBLE is a channel that discovers the joy in the infinitely large pile of impossibilities.

TRI.BE - “Diamond”
Na Wonyoung (Music Critic): Here in Korea, there are no better partnerships for producing and performing dance songs with an unfamiliar rhythm than that formed between Shinsadong Tiger and TRI.BE. All the while the robust, dizzying electronic sounds, the saxophone, and the boisterous club tunes and beats entice us with a top line that is addictive and borderline toxic,, a unique dance rhythm subtly runs beneath the surface and fills up the gaps that come with popular appeal. This is Shinsadong Tiger’s superpower. He has been tapping into this talent of his to produce distinctly Korean versions of electronic dance pop throughout his entire career, while contributing to forming the structure and framework of the contemporary “K-pop” style that we are all so familiar with. TRI.BE that was produced by Shinsadong Tiger with ELLY boldly experimented with bringing onto the international stage, the balanced combination that they found from working on EXID's tracks from the latter half of the 2010s. Thanks to their passionate team performance and individual members’ specialized roles, TRI.BE became the group that brought the innovative beats from the dance halls—especially the Brazilian Balie Funk—to the avant-garde of the idol pop scene. This savvy partnership between producer and idol group brings their sizzling heat down to a refreshing temperature with W.A.Y, and now they have become “Diamonds”—calm and introspective. The exaggerated and purposefully over-done sound which is the most notable feature in the most pop-like hit a-la Shinsadong Tiger is mellowed down with a syncopated rhythm that is characteristic of the Afrobeat that originated from the African west coast. This unique beat that became an easy-going yet robust structure of the song (much like “Water” by Tyla that hit the Billboards hard) is layered not with soft R&B vocals, but with masterful hooks that Shinsadong Tiger is so apt at creating, in a melody that highlights the pleasant mid- to low-range vocals of TRI.BE. The incredible and composed way in which the two partners re-craft and re-invent their defining features are especially memorable in “Diamond”, but also in their pairing track “Run” in which all the members participated in writing. This song borrows its rhythms from the southern regions of the U.S. that Shinsadong Tiger himself used very fondly. And it integrates TRI.BE’s choreographies from the past three years and offers a glimpse into what’s coming next. Sadly, Shinsadong Tiger, or “Lee Hoyang” can no longer continue on his journey with them, but the valuable legacy that he left behind in the idol pop scene will live on in the countless masterpieces that he created, and in TRI.BE’s steadfast steps forward.

The Quiet Migration (Stille liv)
Jeong Seohui (Cinema Journalist): Endure through the numerous slow panning shots and vacuum-like quietude and you finally lay eyes on the boiling volcano that lies dormant, obscured by the pastoral mundanities. The film The Quiet Migration calls for the theatergoers’ much needed contemplation. Korean-born Carl has been adopted by a Danish couple. Carl (Cornelius Won Riedel-Clausen) now nineteen, plans to continue with his father Hans’ (Bjarne Henriksen) business, as was expected of him: run the farm that is full of rustling rice and grass and the loud mechanic sounds of the enormous tractor. But Carl who had solemnly accepted his fate starts losing his composure. The racist comments that he gets from strangers, extended family, and his father’s friends pushes him towards his personal history. The Korean-Danish director Malene Choi confesses that there are those who have been living among many Danish families, among people who look nothing like them as obscured minorities, and her autobiographical film exposes the essence of the diaspora (the dispersion of people from their homeland): the sense that “I” is ambiguous. Carl who is constantly treated as an “outsider,” all the while pressured to take root. He feels his heartbeat by running with all his might and sees the semi-transparent hallucination of his biological mother. Carl’s fantasy of being teleported to Korea through a crater formed by a meteorite is his crossroads of sorts that is rooted in his desire to cut short this period of confusion over self-identity. While Carl loves his mother Karen (Bodil Jørgensen), who tells him that she couldn’t have asked for a better child, he doesn’t want to be a Danish farmer. But to him, Korea might be his origin but not his home. If he was the approximate, then he can be flexible within the margin of error. Carl chooses to passionately “hold off” for the first time in his life. 

Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop by Hwang Bo-reum
Last year, on an autumn afternoon with the sky wavering between flecks of sunlight and short showers, I made a visit to an independent book fair in Seoul. To observe people from various walks of life putting their hard work on display for all to see was inspiring on its own, but talking with the up-and-coming authors revealed that more than a few of them shared a singular story: the burnt-out rat race worker-turned-book-lover pursuing their dreams.

The protagonist in Hwang Bo-reum’s not-quite-a-novel Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop follows a similar trajectory from being an office drone to a bookstore owner, and the journey is as daring and taxing as it is rewarding. The book—now also available in English with translation by Shanna Tan, who was mentored by Beyond the Story translator Anton Hur—tells a tale of allowing oneself to take a rest from the grind and pursue the godly life of self-employment. The end result is a decidedly cozy book that’s best read slowly for its unchallenging, life-affirming message.

If I may add, this book is a great choice especially for people who aren’t usually so fond of books, thanks to its low stakes volume and its convincing argument for making reading a regular habit. Hwang’s writing doesn’t strive for drama or action; like the philosophy it espouses, Hyunam-Dong Bookshop is happy just to “be.”