Of course it was something much simpler than cloudy philosophical leanings about heaven's favor or whatnot: study the history of ancient Chinese politics even in broad terms, and you'll see how its dynastic cycle theory is not too different from modern concepts of business cycles: someone brings everything under heaven back to peaceful terms; they try to fix the former dynasty's mistakes as window dressing to gain the public's favor; when things start to be on the lookup, the unity that marked the beginning of the dynasty starts to morph into personal greed, affecting stability; finally, the shit starts hitting the fan, either in the form of internal strife and/or "heaven's retaliation" (natural disasters, famine, etc.) which all leads to rebellion. The "dynasty" once controlled the entire "world," but when problems begin everyone runs back to their own tents, hence extreme fragmentation (a.k.a. "warring states" or "proto-something" periods). From the tumult someone emerges as the winner, and we're back to square one. No $700bn bailouts in ancient history, sir. In theory, the concept originated in the Zhou Dynasty, but a quick look at their neighbors' history, and you'll see how widespread a phenomenon it was. A few centuries down the line, take Buyeo, for instance.

The only kind of "heaven" Buyeo would worship were the animal gods of totemism: take a look at their political structure, and you'll see under the king a group of official posts were named after livestock: 마가 (maga, from "horse"), 우가 (uga, from "ox") and so on. Buyeo, which was at its core an agricultural "paradise" (considering the area they controlled, now known as Northern Manchuria), put so much importance on the harvest, a bad year could have "overturned" the Buyeo king's domestic version of his mandate of heaven. Although the monarch held considerable power, Buyeo was still a confederation of tribes at heart, with a central tribe (the most powerful) led by the king, and other four provinces (called Sachuldo) gravitating around. If natural disasters or famine weren't dealt with in due time, the king could be removed from power, going back to the original concept of the Zhou's tianming: only a capable ruler will enjoy the mandate of heaven, and the public's support. Of course on paper it was philosophy, culture, a fascinating ruling ideology which survived for millennia. But, really, take off the shell and look inside, and it was plain politics, as simple as it gets. The recipe has certainly changed many times over the years, but the ingredients are the same.

I wish I could say the same about sageuk, particularly on Korean Tv. This precious forty-year old tradition, often bearing ideological markings on its sleeve, sometimes bringing to the mainstream interesting thoughts and concept only discussed in historical circles, has now turned into a cash machine, a sort of business concept. As long as they emanate a certain smell of the far away past, historical dramas have become a weapon for broadcasters to grab lucrative export contracts and dominate the domestic market through ad revenue. It's become more of a business model than a genre, somehow bringing to mind the old Tamil meaning of the world pariah: someone else's treasure. Sageuk is no longer a treasure belonging to its fans, to those who love history, and think dramatizing it can bring it to life in ways even the best novels couldn't even dream of. It now belongs to businessmen, "creators" who manipulated decades of tradition to create a commercial matrix that can be used every time with no fear of failure. Yes, alas, the ingredients change but the recipe is the same. That is the present reality of historical dramas in Korea.

What this means, in layman's terms, is that discussing the historical merits of something like 바람의 나라 (Kingdom of the Wind) from now on will be as redeeming as wondering why Dear Leader Kim Jung-Il doesn't wear shirts that aren't "pinko green" or "military olive," although he probably wouldn't look too good dressed in Turkish blue with pink dots, I suppose. I could spend twenty paragraphs discussing why it's a little disappointing they're painting King Yuri just as a troubled father with a painful past, when in reality it's more likely he was a monster politician, who might have killed two of his sons (Dojeol and, indirectly, Haemyeong) over political and diplomatic conflicts. It's a tad sad they're not using the struggle between the Gyeru and Sono clan which led to King Yuri's crowning, at the heart of early Goguryeo's most important political strife, and are reverting to superficially layered tribal consciousness which would have been much more interesting in a Buyeo setting (or, were this a political sageuk of yesteryear, in Goguryeo). It's disappointing we're getting other parties involved only if they are essential to the story (like... considering it's Wang Mang's time, this is one of the most interesting periods in East Asian history, and the Han and Xin are only mentioned as often as toad poison). It's a little disconcerting sageuk turned into this, but not too surprising after all.

I remember watching 장녹수 (Jang Nok-Su) eons ago, feeling positively shocked because the second coming of Satan, Prince Yeonsan, was given such a modern, irreverent, almost insane treatment. The man who "ruined Joseon," painted as a political victim?! Hell, I remember last year, when while watching 정조암살미스터리 - 8일 (Eight Days) I had to ask someone to look around for my jaw, after experiencing the most daring portrayal of Lady Hyegyeong and Prince Sado's relationship ever put to screen. But, hey, that's all wasted energy. Sageuk no longer belong to us, the fans (and with that I don't mean those who think Seo Jang-Geum is the perfect heroine from a perfect sageuk, no sirre). It belongs to the Olive9 and Chorokbaem, the Choi Wan-Gyu and Lee Byung-Hoon of the world. It's become a farce, distorting all that was good about the genre just to make a dirty buck. So, in this gloomy and depressing atmosphere, it's kind of ironic I'm enjoying both Kingdom of the Wind and particularly the wonderful 바람의 화원 (Painter of the Wind).

Those who are looking for a history lesson watching this better give up before they even begin: there's dramatization and historical interpretation, like what 한성별곡-正 (Conspiracy in the Court) did with Jeongjo. But what you see here about Buyeo's King Daeso or Goguryeo's King Yuri, the future King Daemushin Muhyul, the diplomatic relationship between the two superpowers and the Han, microstates like Hwangnyong and Yilou, and political confrontations between various clans is only 5% history. The rest is pseudo-realistic historical fiction which borrows names, some dates and even certain details (Haemyeong's untimely demise, for instance) to support the drama. Forget this is even an adaptation of Kim Jin's legendary manhwa. They needed a title that would sell, and the incredibly famous Kingdom of the Wind fit the idea a lot more than 대무신왕 (King Daemushin) could have ever hoped to. The issue then stops being the need to criticize dramas for not sticking to history, but the other way around: praising them if they indeed break from this "New Deal," and offer some food for thought. 대왕세종 (Sejong the Great) had a great opportunity to do so, but is taking a bath in quicksands that are increasingly killing it, despite a few sparks of quality. Painter of the Wind, if it sticks to its synopsis and indeed brings up political issues regarding Prince Sado as a salad dressing to all the painting, could end up being a long-awaited exception. But just an exception it would be.

I confess my expectations for this drama (in an historical sense) were so low, I was almost satisfied by the simple fact they're portraying Buyeo as a strong kingdom, not a sort of antediluvian version of the Brady Bunch like what 주몽 (Jumong) did. That the Han, Goguryeo and Buyeo held the keys to power in Northeast Asia during this period is certainly a fact, just as much as the relationship between Buyeo and Goguryeo going past simple diplomacy because of their past issues was. You get the sense, unlike Jumong, that the writers more or less understand who the power players of this period were, and are trying to draw history at least with broad strokes, trying to pile up the drama in between. It's interesting talking about writers here, because it's such a strange coupling. The fact Choi Wan-Gyu's A-story is listed in the credits simply means he (or one of his people) shows up at script meetings, delineates a few major routes the drama needs to take, and then it's bye bye baby. The real writers are Park Jin-Woo, Jung Jin-Ok, and whomever is helping them as assistant. That's the interesting part: the two couldn't be more different.

Park Jin-Woo, as we said on many occasions, wrote Conspiracy in the Court, and is the best new writer in a long, long time. His dialogue has a very distinctive style, with a bit less theatrical showmanship than Jung Ha-Yeon, but still rather poetic and pungent. He showed strong historical consciousness (although PD Kwak Jung-Hwan's input shouldn't be overlooked), an insane attention to detail, and the ability to find the essence of this genre right on his first outing. Jung Jin-Ok grew up under Choi Wan-Gyu's wings, and went on to write 해신 (Emperor of the Sea), before joining the final part of Jumong a few years ago. She tends to be rather weak in terms of historical details, but shows decent characterization skills, and can handle bombastic dialogue like few other writers her age can. Kind of a mismatch, if you think about it, but it's working somehow.

For instance, all the sloppiness and uneven nightmare we saw in Jumong is gone. If you take a look at the script and confront it with the final version, you'll see PD Kang might actually deserve to be singled out, for taking only what's necessary (script is often a tad more bloated and obvious than the actual drama, especially when it comes to timing), but that has to start somewhere. There's almost no "this is comedy. Laugh, you bastard" moments, when everything stops and allegedly funny characters do their shtick, while the clock runs and we waste our time. Almost everything happens for a reason, and the flow is incredibly quick. This is the major difference between this drama and Jumong. In 2006, just because Hur Joon-Ho was phenomenal as Haemosu, we got him until Episode 12. Sure, Lee Jong-Won has been a little insipid as Haemyeong, but the character was developed in a pretty decent way, and left when people were still applauding. Good writers need to love their characters, yes, but also be cruel enough to kill them off when their time has come. This is where Park Jin-Woo's influence can be felt. If it was truly Choi Wan-Gyu writing this, we'd get another few weeks of brotherly bond before the big dramatic moment lost any momentum. But here it's all quick, and done with the right tempo.

And that's what's saving this drama, and actually making it rather interesting. There's nothing really that stands out here: mise en scene pales so much in comparison to recent SBS efforts - aaaand... Painter of the Wind gets praised again - it's not even worth mentioning, and everyone involved in production here has done better, both in terms of cinematography, action, music and editing. But, hey, nothing here is really bad either. Nothing sticks out, interfering with the pleasure of following the story. You could certainly say on many occasions you're only getting second best - or, when it comes to people like Kim Hye-Seong or Choi Jung-Won's idea of "acting," a few flights of stairs under best; that people like Jung Sung-Mo and Kim Hye-Ri are wasted in their roles considering their immense charisma, and so on. But, despite the few insipid performances, nobody here touches the offensive level, and there's a sense everyone is slowly adapting to the genre, even the most inexperienced ones. Kim Sang-Ho, for instance, is a complete success as Mahwang, as he adds a touch of decadence and ruthless greed to what could have been just comic relief. The only real highlights are Han Jin-Hee with King Daeso's Shakespearean machismo, who's finally showing where he belongs, and Jung Jin-Young, wonderful as always. But really, not too bad.

So the idea is, we're not getting much in the way of "sa (history)," but the "geuk (drama)" makes up for it. Over the last month, I haven't felt even once those nervous little cold sweats, preparing me for incoming doom. It just feels like a drama that knows where it's headed, what its strong points and weaknesses are, and presses on for the win. It's probably not going to end as a memorable show, if the first eight episodes are of any indication. But Kingdom of the Wind might actually be the first Goguryeo-themed sageuk which at least superficially smells of history, but also takes care of that increasingly forsaken entity, drama. See? Nothing is really that difficult in the world, if you really work hard for it. So let's keep working this way up to the end, it's all I ask....

RATING: 7