Stage Fighter (Mnet)
Lee Heewon: Mnet, known for its impressive roster of dance competition shows—from Dancing 9 to the widely acclaimed Street Woman Fighter and Street Man Fighter series, presents a new arena for artistic combat. This time, the stage belongs to a dance survival competition focused on three distinct genres: Korean dance, ballet, and contemporary dance. In Stage Fighter, male dancers battle with their movements and are divided into ranks—First, Second, and Under. Although their techniques can be honed through relentless practice and determination, the dancers also face the immutable realities of their physical forms—height, body shape, and natural attributes they can neither control nor change. Yet they choose to dance anyway, embracing the cruelty and unfairness inherent in their craft. Some push their bodies past what seems physically impossible. “He’s flat-footed,” a judge comments, “he shouldn’t be able to dance well, but he does.” It’s a quiet victory in the face of doubt. For these dancers, the stage itself is a burden, a place where their very presence could be considered a disadvantage, and yet they reject excuses. “I’m a dancer who must overcome the limitations of my body by moving it,” they declare. They’re passionate about overcoming seemingly impossible gaps, such as the ranks pre-set in the program. The deepest essence of their passion pours out in each movement—whether performed from the front of the stage or the shadowed background. And in the end, this passion bridges the gap between the performers and the judges, audience, and even the cold eye of the camera. Stage Fighter is not just a show about dance; it’s a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. It’s about finding breakthroughs in life “despite all obstacles.” Even as the ranks divide them and the competition simmers, there’s grace and camaraderie. When someone claims the coveted “First” rank, his peers, the supposed rivals, reach out with praise. “That was really good,” they say, shaking hands with the dancer who just took their place. Through every step, every graceful leap, and every shared smile, something larger emerges—a solidarity born from the shared language of movement, a celebration of pushing past limitations “despite all obstacles.”
"We All Know We’re Gonna Fail " (Broccoli, You Too)
Kim Doheon (Pop music critic): Five long years have passed, and Broccoli, You Too has finally returned with its new album We All Know We’re Gonna Fail. It’s an unflinching declaration from this seasoned indie band, who long ago labeled themselves “Snobs” after “Graduation” and “Song is Universal.” Their unconcerned attitude stands in stark contrast to the current chatter—about the resurgence of rock, a so-called “band boom,” and the ephemeral burst of likes and shares that dominate today’s scene. The album tells the quiet but fierce story of surviving in the margins of Korean indie music. As the lyrics of “Wings” lament, “it takes everything just to stay in the same place.” “A few victories and just as many defeats,” they sing, capturing the fragile balance of holding on as the world keeps spinning. Across the 12 tracks, Broccoli, You Too paints a picture of the indie scene that thrived in and around the streets of Hongdae, a place that now seems frozen in myth. The bakery near Ewha Womans University, Café Eeree, Amateur Amplifier, Ssamzie Sound Festival—some of these places remain, but so many have vanished, lost to the relentless passage of time. The dreams and songs that once filled these spaces have either faded or been reshaped by harsh realities. “I thought life would be okay if I achieved something in music and life,” they reflect in the track “I Don't Want to Try Too Hard,” “but nothing can beat time.” In “What I Wanted,” they confront the paradox of creation—that “to craft the perfect song, you must leave nothing of yourself behind.” Duk Won, Jandi, Ryuji, and Dong Hyeok, the voices of Studio Broccoli, sing for the weary, the ones who are tired of failing but keep going anyway. They offer solace to those still running toward a failure they know is inevitable. Even in this very moment, they remind us that we’re still failing. People slip away, old haunts disappear, and new music plays like the soundtrack to a drink filled with nostalgia. As I listen to We All Know We’re Gonna Fail, I can’t help but remember the words of the late Cho Sehui, author of A Dwarf Launches a Little Ball: “We may lose all our battles for the time being, but we must do our best.”
The Healing Season of Pottery by Yeon Somin
Kim Boksung (Writer): Author Yeon Somin’s cozy novel The Healing Season of Pottery follows Jungmin, a 30-year-old whose hectic career writing for TV leaves her with a case of burnout so bad that she quits her job and then puts her whole life on pause. She’s got plenty of issues from her past as well, piled up as high as the stuff in her little apartment she spends all her time in now without really stepping outside for the better part of a year. But one fateful day, she follows her nose and finds more than just the coffee she was looking for. What she actually stumbles upon is the pottery studio that becomes the center of her new life as the novel unfolds. The smell of the clay is calming and the feel in her hands as she slowly molds it reflects the message to take things slow. Most importantly, she trades her solitude for a cast of characters all experiencing the therapeutic benefits of pottery, and this newfound community forms an important part of Jungmin’s road to recovery and of the book itself.
Yeon’s novel isn’t heavy on plot, instead focusing on personal growth, and doesn’t directly address bigger solutions to toxic work culture or necessarily advocate true psychotherapy, so like other cozy reads, it’s a bit like Animal Crossing in book form. But if you enjoyed the previously recommended Welcome to Hyunam-Dong Bookshop and want to round out your year with more healing, don’t miss this comforting read.