When the Weight of a Meal Becomes a Countdown to Life... 'Number One' Starring Choi Woo-shik X Jang Hye-jin

Missed Because It's Obvious, The Familiar Comfort of Family Movies

There are movies where the ending is clearly drawn just by looking at the poster or reading a few lines of the synopsis. We often devalue such movies by calling them "cliché-ridden" or "sinpa" (forced tear-jerkers). However, ironically, at the decisive moment when we visit the theater, we often need the comfort provided by this familiar taste. The movie Number One is a work that accurately penetrates that point. As the genre of family movies usually does, this movie also chooses a direct approach of building up the characters' emotional lines one by one rather than shocking twists or flashy techniques. Like the saying, "Development is more important than content," this movie runs toward an obvious ending, but the detailed layers of emotion derived from that process have the power to move the audience's hearts.

The Paradox of the Title 'Number One', A Countdown Toward the End, Not the Best

The movie's title, Number One, seems like a positive word meaning "the best" or "top dog" at first glance. However, when you open the lid of the movie, you realize that what this number means is a terribly sad and cruel paradox. The number refers to "the number of times one can eat a meal prepared by mom." A strange phenomenon occurs to the protagonist Jung Ha-min (played by Choi Woo-shik) where he suddenly sees numbers above people's heads. And that number decreases by one every time he receives a table carefully prepared by his mother. The setting that a separation from his mother approaches the moment the number becomes "0" turns mealtime, which should be the most daily and warm time, into a tense time like a ticking time bomb with life as collateral.

Family History Dotted with Tragedy, The Sad Solidarity of Those Left Behind

The movie goes back and forth between 2010 and 2025, showing a family narrative spanning about 26 years. Ha-min's family history is tragic, as if proving the proverb "Misfortunes never come singly." Shortly after Ha-min was born, his father passed away from cancer, and even his older brother, who was hoped to be the pillar of the family, died in a traffic accident on the day of his college entrance exam. What is left in the tragedy, which is no different from a series of funerals, is only his mother Lee Eun-sil (played by Jang Hye-jin) and young Ha-min. The mother-son relationship left alone in the world is bound to be much more affectionate and desperate than an ordinary family. For the mother, Ha-min must have been the only reason to sustain life and an existence to whom she had to pour out love, even the share for her late husband and eldest son.

Lifespan Decreases If You Eat Love? A Cruel Dilemma

In this situation, the curse that befell Ha-min is harsh. The setting that the more he eats the rice served with his mother's love, the less time he has to be with her, approaches as the greatest tragedy in Korean sentiment where rice is synonymous with love and life. Mom Eun-sil, played by actor Jang Hye-jin, is a character who has lived her whole life suppressing her feelings inside, finding joy solely in feeding her son a warm meal. Knowing his mother's heart, the choice Ha-min makes after learning the secret of the numbers is bound to be desperate. The heart of a son who has to refuse the "act of feeding," which is paradoxically his mother's greatest joy, to save her. This ironic situation, where starving or eating out becomes an act of filial piety rather than unfilial piety, leads the conflict in the early part of the movie.

Adult Ha-min and Nutritionist Ryeo-eun, Fate Connected by Rice

Time passes, and Ha-min, now an adult, makes a living working as a sales representative for a soju company. It seems like a fateful setting that he, who has a job selling alcohol, meets his girlfriend Ryeo-eun (played by Gong Seung-yeon), who works as a cafeteria nutritionist and is responsible for "rice." Ryeo-eun is a character who grew up without parents, so she misses a warm family and home-cooked meals more than anyone else. On the other hand, Ha-min is in a position where he cannot eat his mom's food even though he has a mom. As the two people with different deficiencies promise marriage, Ha-min's worries deepen. This is because marriage means the union of families, which inevitably means more meals with his mother. The drama created by the clash between Ryeo-eun's "affection for food" and Ha-min's "fear of food" is an element that adds interest to the play.

Japanese Original Novel's Ingenious Imagination, Reinterpreted with Korean Sentiment

The unique setting of this movie is based on the Japanese novel The Number of Times I Can Eat My Mother's Home Cooking is 328 Left. As can be seen from the original title, this story replaced the obvious lesson of "Be filial while your parents are alive" with specific and visual horror through the fantasy device of a "countdown." The Korean version Number One brings the ingenious framework of the original work but adapts it into a more sorrowful story by adding Korea's unique culture of "Jeong" (affection) and "Rice Power." Beyond the feeling of a mission game where numbers simply decrease, it adopted a strategy to stimulate the tear ducts of Korean audiences by emphasizing the mother's fermented love and sacrifice placed on a spoonful of rice.

Avoid Mom to Live? Desperate Flight for Independence

The method Ha-min chose to not reduce the number was physical distancing. He leaves Busan, where his mother is, and goes to a university in Seoul. Unlike ordinary children who dream of independence for growth or freedom, Ha-min's independence is close to an "escape" solely to extend his mother's lifespan. Throughout the movie, the audience asks the question, "What would I have done in that situation?" Moving out after marriage would be a way to naturally avoid mom's food, but can one completely block mom's love, such as on holidays, birthdays, or side dishes she brings unexpectedly? Ha-min's struggle to push away the person he loves to protect her evokes sad but realistic empathy.

Love in a Side Dish Container, The Inescapable Siege of Maternal Love

Just because he became independent doesn't mean he can be completely free from his mother's table. The kimchi sent by courier and the side dishes she packed and brought up are like time bombs to Ha-min. Ha-min feels guilty throwing away the side dishes his mother packed or giving them to others without eating them, but he believes it is the only way to save her. In this process, the movie shows the sticky bond between parents and children that cannot be cut through the medium of "food." Beyond the act of simply ingesting nutrients, the parental instinct that they feel full just by watching something go into their child's mouth. The movie paradoxically shows how that instinctive love can sometimes become a heavy burden on the child's heart, but that even that burden is love.

Unexpected Twist in the Second Half, The Gaze Shifting from Mom to Son

The movie progresses by focusing on mom Eun-sil's lifespan and the numbers all along, but in the middle and latter parts, the flow turns in an unexpected direction. A sudden change in personal circumstances occurs to Ha-min himself, who was struggling to protect his mom. (I cannot mention it specifically as it could be a spoiler), but this development hits the audience in the back of the head while delivering a stronger message that family exists to protect each other. What ending will the son's effort to save his mother reach, and the hidden sincerity between the family revealed in the process become a catalyst that amplifies the emotional waves in the second half.

A Tear Button Named Jang Hye-jin, and the Harmony of Choi Woo-shik and Gong Seung-yeon

The greatest power supporting the movie Number One is undoubtedly the acting of actor Jang Hye-jin. Beyond the tough yet human mother figure shown in the movie Parasite, this time, she perfectly embodied the image of our mothers who pressed deep sadness into the crudeness unique to the Busan dialect. With just one expression and one line of hers, the audience is helplessly disarmed. Even at the point where the movie could easily flow into melodrama (sinpa), Jang Hye-jin's acting does not lose its center and grants sincerity. Here, Choi Woo-shik's realistic yet delicate life acting and Gong Seung-yeon's clear and bold energy are added to complete a plain and warm family ensemble that is not excessive. Although a somewhat long running time may be felt, it is a work worthy of being a warm healing movie to watch with family while preparing a handkerchief.