Summary
Beyond the Bar is fascinatingly complex on a character level in Episode 3, using its interesting case as a springboard for effective drama.
I can’t help but feel that Beyond the Bar is flying under the radar a bit. I’m probably helping to contribute to that by singing from the rooftops about The Winning Try every two minutes, especially since the two K-Dramas are competing directly on Saturdays. But Episode 3, “Butterfly Chrysalis”, isn’t just promising but very deftly written and presented, allowing a complex legal case to shoulder the bulk of the intrigue, letting the audience draw their own conclusions instead of putting words in their mouths, and using these events to effectively develop Hyo-min and Seok-hoon, albeit in different ways.
Of course, as in the second episode, there’s a metaphor threaded through all this, one about change and the process of transformation (hence the title). But it’s also about the environmental factors – which would be the chrysalis, in this analogy – that facilitate that process, determining how people are shaped according to their surroundings and the people in them. It’s interesting, competent drama, but special mention should, I think, be given to the case of the week, which acts as a vehicle for exploring all of these ideas.
The case involves a delivery driver, Deok-ho, almost hitting a kid named Min-guk while under the influence of too many Irish coffees. No contact is made, as proved by CCTV, but Deok-ho blows over the limit and Min-guk suffers “injuries” – perhaps “symptoms” would be more appropriate – consistent with a collision. Min-guk’s wealthy family makes the whole thing a legal matter, while Seok-hoon takes on Deok-ho’s case. It’s an intriguingly ambiguous one because of the idea of a nocebo – similar to a placebo, which is a fake medical treatment that tends to be successful because of a psychological connection between the brain and the body, a nocebo is one’s health being detrimentally affected by psychological factors like negative expectations. In other words, even though Deok-ho didn’t actually hit Min-guk, the near-miss might have been just as psychologically damaging.
How do you approach this legally, though? Well, that’s the question, and precisely why the case is attractive to Seok-hoon. Yullim’s leadership structure is even built to support this idea, since Seok-hoon rejects a promotion to take on Mr. Ko’s position because he wants the company to uproot the lazy partners who only take on low-effort, low-value cases. Seok-hoon isn’t interested in ticking boxes. He wants cases like this one that genuinely challenge the boundaries of the law and his personal values. These are the cases you build a firm’s reputation on.
The easy approach is the most obvious one – Deok-ho was drunk, therefore he’s liable, or at least ill-positioned to fight back. Hyo-min takes a psychological counter-approach, looking into Min-guk’s mental state and medical history to look for psychological causes independent of Deok-ho’s driving (under the influence or otherwise). Signs begin to emerge immediately that Min-guk’s mother, Sang-mi, is suffering from Munchausen syndrome, an extreme anxiety disorder, which is spilling into Munchausen syndrome by proxy – a form of child abuse whereby a parent projects symptoms onto their child, either made-up or caused by the parent themselves, for attention.
This is the angle by which Hyo-min and Seok-hoon will win the case, but it’s also the angle by which they must brutally verbally scathe a mother who is clearly suffering herself. It isn’t the most morally ideal outcome, but it is, sadly, a necessary one; the law is, on some level, a battle fought between two sides, and both sides ultimately want to win.
Beyond the Bar uses this theme of motherhood in Episode 3 to explore the personal circumstances of both Hyo-min and Seok-hoon. In the case of the former, she has longstanding issues with her own mother, who has recently shown up interfering, and these involve her sister, too. For Seok-hoon, parenting is a sore spot, since his partner’s reaction to being pregnant is implied to be a fundamental component in their relationship breaking down. Seok-hoon, then, is incredibly touchy about the subject and leans into the idea that some people simply aren’t fit to be mothers in the first place, which makes Hyo-min uncomfortable since it feels like a personal attack on her and her circumstances. Sang-mi is the real target – her denial of Min-guk’s independence is profound – but the intensity of Seok-hoon’s closing arguments is rooted in very real feelings.
Nobody’s right, and nobody’s wrong, which is precisely why Beyond the Bar works so well. The opposites-attract hook isn’t new by any stretch, but there’s an unusual commitment to quite how different these two leads are, and how much their professions – and their interpretations of their responsibilities within that profession – determine their own personalities. It’s a fascinating basis for a drama that is really proving its worth as it goes on.
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