“When Life Gives You Tangerines” is a bittersweet, endearing Korean drama that has the world under its spell. The story spans the lives of Oh Ae-sun (IU and Moon So-ri) and Yang Gwan-sik (Park Bo-gum and Park Hae-joon) on Jeju Island in South Korea, from their optimistic but dreary childhood to their challenging and inspiring adulthood. The series is so popular because of the insurmountable standards Gwan-sik sets as a boyfriend and husband. He unconditionally loves and supports Ae-sun’s dreams of becoming a poet, acting as her warrior and defender against his own family. His decision to jump off a ship and swim across an ocean into her arms, and sell her cabbage so she can study, makes audiences swoon. But the series is heartbreaking in a million other ways. At its heart, it is about sacrifice and family. It showcases the endless journey of motherhood, the turbulent path of daughterhood, the uncertainty and responsibility of being an eldest child, the loneliness and yearning of being the youngest, and the tender misery of a lovelorn father. Quite simply, it is the reality of an ordinary yet exceptional life, where joy and love flow always in persistent tragedy and sorrow. The show displays humanity flawlessly and mercilessly, and, on the 16-episode journey, we find ourselves crying and grasping at our chest in pain, awe, and disbelief.
The audience meets elderly Ae-sun (Moon So-ri) in a retirement home. As she reflects on her life, gazing out at the vast ocean, she clings to a word, which she “said more than any other, every day”: Mom. In her childhood, Ae-sun adored her mother but lost her at a young age. The longing that loss left behind is still raw and fervent, especially as Ae-sun has lived more years without her mom than with her. Yet it foregrounds a truth often ignored in parenthood: every father and mother is first somebody’s son and daughter. This is what we see in their children, Geum-myeong (IU) and Eun-myeong (Kang You-seok) discover as we watch them grow up, and start to have kids of their own.
Additionally, the show depicts the unbalanced relationship between parents and children. Parents have the expectation of strength and courage imposed upon them, as the lives and well-being of their children depend on them. We see Geum-myeong and Eun-myeong harbor resentment for the unfortunate ways they grew up, for their poverty and the material objects their parents couldn’t provide. Eum-myeong’s need for validation and attention leads to his rebellious anger, and Guem-myeong’s desire for acceptance and love spurs her high academic performance. Later, Guem-myeong says she felt she carried her parents’ and grandparents’ dreams on her shoulders. Ae-sun, a talented writer, aspired to become a poet. When she was a child, she was determined to succeed and provide for her mother (Yeom Hye-ran) in old age. But instead, harsh reality made her a wife and mother at a young age, ruining the potential of a successful career, despite her new dreams of being a magnificent mother. As parents who love their children, we see Ae-sun and Gwan-sik’s devoted affection. On the other hand, as children focused on developing their own self-identities, we see Geum-myeong and Eun-myeong’s cycle of neglect and appreciation toward their parents. It exposes the bare truth that children can resent their parents, but parents cannot do the same — and this reality isn’t tragic or gut-wrenching, but just plain raw.
The parents’ sacrifices weigh heavily, but so do their expectations for their children. There is no villain, only a complicated family doing the best they can and regretting the mistakes they inevitably make. But above all, the pain and joy tells us to live our lives to the fullest, regardless of the cards or “tangerines” we are dealt. Ae-sun and Gwan-sik lived a wonderful life and the empty space of their unfulfilled childhood dreams is replaced with a thousand memories and moments. They felt deep pain but also overwhelming happiness and joy. Because life is never over. Until it is.
