In the past, the Japanese colonial era was a frequent subject matter appearing in South Korean dramas and films to depict national pain and the anti-Japanese struggle. Recently, however, it has become increasingly difficult to find period dramas set in this era on television. This is partly because the historical background feels too distant, and partly due to a shift in viewers' preferences toward light, cheerful trendy shows or fantasy genres over heavy and tragic narratives. Amidst this general trend in the broadcasting industry, the weighty period drama 100 Days of Lies, set against the gloomy backdrop of Japanese rule, has recently begun airing, capturing the attention of many drama fans. Summoning a forgotten, heartbreaking era back to the screen, this work is armed with a deep narrative befitting the weight of the times and stellar performances by its cast, delivering a fresh shock and profound resonance to viewers.
As it directly tackles the painful history of the Japanese colonial era, the air dominating the entire drama is somewhat heavy and endlessly serious. The suppressed sorrow of the grassroots people who lost their country and suffered persecution, as well as the desperation of the fighters who risked their lives dedicating themselves to independence, are deeply ingrained throughout the screen. Most of the characters appearing in the play also carry this historical tragedy intact, completely erasing smiles from their faces and arming themselves with nothing but grim resolve and seriousness. The lives of these individuals, who must endure precarious days not knowing when they might die amidst suffocating surveillance and oppression, are depicted as dry and coolly as a black-and-white photograph, naturally immersing the audience in the solemn atmosphere of the time.
In this endlessly heavy and suffocating era of darkness, the only figure who stands out with a bright and bouncy presence is "Lee Ga-kyung," played by Kim Yoo-jung. She has the unique setup of being a highly skilled pickpocket wandering the harsh bottom of society, and always carries a bright smile on her face. However, that bright smile is not genuinely from happiness; rather, it is closer to a survival shield intended to thoroughly hide her true intentions and fears in order to somehow survive in a brutal and barren world. Lee Ga-kyung's appearance—never losing her spirit even in the face of miserable reality and arming herself with a forced smile—creates a strange contrast with the tragedy of the era, making one curious about the deep narrative hidden behind the character's shallow exterior.
The interesting point is that while all other characters maintain a solemnity crushed by the weight of the times, Lee Ga-kyung alone maintains an excessively prominent bright tone. Paradoxically, this led to an unexpected acting controversy during the first two episodes of the drama's broadcast. This was because she seemed completely out of place and isolated, failing to blend in with the drama's overall heavy tone and manner. Especially from the first episode, amidst the desperate situation of independence fighters exerting blood-drying efforts to carry out a life-risking mission, her incongruous appearance of brightly acting while chasing only money and her own safety was pointed out as an element disrupting the viewers' immersion. There were even sharp criticisms that she felt like such a detestable villain that it was honestly hard to watch her.
However, this fierce criticism and the controversy over her unlikable character that arose early in the drama ironically serve as strong proof that actress Kim Yoo-jung perfectly understood her character and performed exceptionally well, even to the point of being aggravating. By depicting the appearance of a vulgar pickpocket who has not a speck of interest in the noble cause of the independence movement and is only greedy for money so realistically, she naturally drew the public's indignation. The scene where she steals the bag containing bullets smuggled in by the fighters at the risk of their lives at the most critical moment reached the peak of inducing the audience's annoyance. Despite occupying a weight close to that of the actual protagonist in the early narrative, she excellently fulfilled the role of the ultimate scapegoat for all viewers as a foolish obstacle blocking the path of the noble fighters.
Standing in perfect opposition to the foolish actions of the obstacle Lee Ga-kyung and firmly holding the heavy center of the play is undeniably "Yoo So-ran," played by Kim Hyun-joo. She is a strong and cold character who has devoted everything and rushed forward solely to complete the independence of her country and her blood-soaked personal revenge. Even with her sworn enemy right in front of her eyes, she must perfectly control her emotions and calmly and meticulously prepare for revenge; thus, her expression is always as cold and unwavering as frost. Kim Hyun-joo perfectly expresses Yoo So-ran's complex inner self—struggling to suppress boiling anger and sorrow while maintaining an ice-cold rationality—through restrained eye acting. This forms a stark contrast with Lee Ga-kyung's lightness, tightly tuning the tension of the play.
The ultimate target that Yoo So-ran so meticulously risks her life to eliminate is "Sato Shinichi," chillingly played by Jin Seon-kyu. To Yoo So-ran, he is the enemy who took everything from her and a symbol of those who trampled on her country; he is the very reason for her existence, living and breathing solely to execute the grand mission of punishing him. To achieve this massive goal, Yoo So-ran even enters into a thoroughly fake marriage with "Yoo Philip" (played by Lee Moo-saeng), a man raised in the United States, slowly infiltrating the heart of the enemy. On top of this, a young man with a tragic fate named "Sato Hideo" (Korean name Kim Tae-woong, played by Park Jin-young), who was caught pickpocketing by Sato and taken in as his adopted son, becomes intertwined. The complex web of relationships surrounding these characters creates breathtaking suspense where one cannot foresee what will happen next.
Behind the reason they desperately aim for Sato Shinichi's life and band together to act as the "National Salvation Corps" lies a heavy motif based on a horrific and tragic real historical event that must never be forgotten in Korean history. It is the "Jeam-ri Massacre," where the Japanese military, harboring a grudge after the March 1st Independence Movement, carried out a ruthless retaliation. At the time, the Japanese military forcefully gathered the residents of Jeam-ri, Suwon, Gyeonggi Province, into a church, and committed the atrocity of indiscriminately shooting and setting fire to brutally massacre them. The drama draws this horrific historical fact into the central axis of its narrative, providing a powerful and legitimate justification for the characters' blood-soaked thirst for revenge.
In the drama, Yoo So-ran is a character who experienced a hellish tragedy due to this exact horrific Jeam-ri incident, brutally losing her beloved daughter and having her husband disappear with his whereabouts unknown. Directed at Sato Shinichi, the Japanese soldier who was there at the time, she has swallowed tears of blood for many years, dreaming of and meticulously preparing for this massive revenge. Through the drama, viewers vividly confront the tragedy of the Jeam-ri incident, which was fading from history, and sympathize with the boiling anger. However, unfortunately, the grand mission Yoo So-ran so perfectly prepared with her enemy right in front of her eyes ultimately goes up in smoke in vain due to a cruel twist of fate—though not entirely solely because of Lee Ga-kyung's actions.
When I first heard the news that 100 Days of Lies was set in the Japanese colonial era, it is true that I had hasty concerns about whether it might be a heavy subject matter that was somewhat outdated. However, upon opening the lid, the perfect, flawless performances of the actors and the solid narrative based on historical facts harmonized, exerting a magic that made me hold my breath and deeply immerse myself in the play before I knew it. Planned as a long 16-episode series to capture the heavy breath unique to period dramas, the tension of the play does not drag in the slightest. Having gathered the somewhat distracted atmosphere of the first episode, the full-scale narrative gets on track from the second episode, and the viewership ratings are also drawing an upward curve. As the episodes progress, it is expected to receive even fiercer public attention as the intertwined pasts of the characters are revealed.
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