K-drama midseason recap: Queen of Masks – Kim Sun-a uncovers shocking revelations in women-led prime-time melodrama
- Kim Sun-a leads a cast of high-achieving modern Korean women who remain vulnerable and prey to a predatory patriarchy
- While plenty of the series doesn’t make sense, we would be deprived of many superb moments if logic were too well respected
This article contains spoilers.
Lead cast: Kim Sun-a, Oh Yoon-ah, Shin Eun-jung, Yoo-sun
Latest Nielsen rating: 2.65 per cent
Queen of Masks, the Channel A prime-time Korean melodrama streaming in select Asian territories on Viu, knows exactly what it wants to be.
That alone is hardly high praise. Surely we should expect that most TV shows know what they’re trying to be, if we put aside the thornier question of how well they achieve it. Yet in the modern Korean-drama landscape, it’s surprising how often shows fail to surmount that seemingly squat first hurdle.
The age of the prime-time melodrama was sounded in with the reverberating success of Sky Castle, but this coincided with the dawn of genre blockbusters on streaming, ushered in by the crimson Netflix glow of the zombie period drama Kingdom.
Queen of Masks eschews that “innovative” impulse to deliver a back-to-basics melodrama. It’s not aiming for a crossover audience – the cheaper production values are proof enough of that. Instead, it is squarely focused on the middle-aged-women demographic that has traditionally fuelled soap-opera ratings.
Yet something has changed over the past few years: South Korea itself. Women are now more likely to join the workforce and less likely to get married or bear children. Queen of Masks shows us a modern view of Korean womanhood.
All four of its leads are women and most of them have achieved professional prestige, largely without the help of a silver spoon. Yet these women remain vulnerable, prey to a predatory patriarchy.
To what degree the show tries to shine a light on society’s inequalities is debatable, but at the very least it takes place in a recognisably flawed society. The melodrama trimmings, of course, remain excessive and exaggerated.
Leading this not-so-merry band of women is the queen of masks herself, high-powered lawyer Doh Jae-yi (Kim Sun-a). Despite her high standing in society, which includes her role as a leading candidate in the mayoral race in Tongju, the fictional setting of the series, Jae-yi is haunted by an event from her past.
The same night that the fiancé of her friend Joo Yoo-jung (Shin Eun-jung) was murdered, Jae-yi was raped by a mystery man wearing a mask. She has been tracking down that mask ever since, and now the clock is ticking through the waning days of the 10-year statute of limitations.
Roughly halfway through the series she finally unmasks her assailant, who turns out to be Yoo-jung’s new husband, Song Je-hyeok (Lee Jung-jin). Shocking though that revelation is, Jae-yi already knew something was up with the squeaky-clean orphanage director.
Jae-yi had previously discovered that Je-hyeok’s young daughter Na-na (Ahn Tae-rin) is also actually the child of Go Yoo-na (Oh Yoon-ah), the friend who was ejected from the quartet after being jailed for Yoo-jung’s fiancé’s murder.
Yoo-na spent surprisingly little time in jail, following which she emigrated to America. During her time there she met Je-hyeok and the two hit off.
They both used to work as hosts in upscale “room salons” – bars with private rooms for hostesses to entertain customers – and they found comfort in each other in a foreign land. But one day Je-hyeok and Na-na disappeared, prompting Yoo-na’s risky return.
Yoo-na’s initial reunion with the rest of the quartet is confrontational, but as more secrets pour out, rivalries and alliances prove to be fleeting and mutable.
Je-hyeok quickly emerges as the main villain of the series. Jae-yi and Yoo-na have serious axes to grind with him, but his true nature is even more despicable than they at first realise.
He has been running the secret Angels’ Club, the members of which all wear the same mask from all those years ago.
The club is an illicit playground for the wealthy. Booze and drugs flow freely, but the nefarious twist is that it operates in the bowls of Je-hyeok’s orphanage and the servers in the establishment are young orphans. The older, but still underage, orphans, lie in petrified wait in adjoining rooms, to sate the desires of the loathsome crumbs of the upper crust.
After the statute of limitations on her assault expires, Jae-yi has to abandon her initial revenge, but when she catches wind of Je-hyeok’s grander crimes, a new plan is hatched, and she needs Yoo-na’s help.
The cast, like the drama, also knows what it’s doing. Leading the show, Kim is a solid presence as Jae-yi, all smoky glares and cool diction as her final plan gradually comes into focus.
Queen of Masks is streaming on Viu.
