Let Me Hear Your Song: Episodes 29-32 Open Thread (Final)
The tangled web is finally unwoven, and the final episodes of Let Me Hear Your Song wrap everything up quite tidily. Our villain is brought to justice, a fair amount of comeuppance is delivered, and the plot comes full circle, back to where it started. It’s a bit overdone, but in a way I’m okay with this drama ending on a feel-good note.
EPISODES 29-32 WEECAP
Last week we left off with Yi-young unconscious after her car accident. Thankfully, she awakens with no amnesia or other side effects, almost to the point where I wonder why we needed this accident to begin with. To show that Maestro Nam really cares about Yi-young’s well-being, based on how he flew to the hospital when he heard? To show us the strength of Yoon’s love for her as he weeps in the hallway? To make Yi-young vulnerable to the creepy strangulation hands of Professor Kang?
While Yi-young is recovering, she secretly meets with Yoon (he’s still banned by her aunt to come near her). They catch up on “case notes,” as it were, like they’re been doing the entire drama. It’s a bit repetitive, but I like that they’ve come full circle from secrets and subterfuge to trust and full disclosure. Dramas (any of them!) don’t often have a lead couple that give each other the scoop as much as these two, so I’ll enjoy that while I’ve got it.
Yoon’s umpteenth confrontation of Maestro Nam (armed with Yu-da’s video footage) finally yields some results. With Yoon and Professor Kang pressing on either side, Maestro Nam finally decides to come clean. Interestingly, it’s Eun-joo he goes to confess to first. He confirms that Kang sent Bucket Hat Baddie to get his pen of embezzlement records back from Kim Ian, and fills in the details of that night while she listens silently.
More than the confession here, I loved the dynamic between the two characters. In a way, their love story became more interesting than that of Yoon and Yi-young. Maestro Nam/Eun-joo started off with melodrama and ended with some nice gravity. In contrast, Yoon/Yi-young started off wacky and charming and weird, but ended into a trope prison.
But before we reach that conclusion, the baddies must first be dealt with. Maestro Nam gives a key to Eun-joo before he is arrested, and asks her to pass it on to Yoon. I’m not sure why he couldn’t just give it to Yoon himself, since they’ve seen each more than anyone in these last few episodes, but that’s okay — it proves his reliance on and trust of Eun-joo, let’s say?
Yi-young, while still recovering in the hospital, is visited/terrorized by Professor Kang, who, in our episode cliffhanger, was about to reach out and strangle her. And man, from the look in his eye, I believed it. She’s saved by the bell, and boldly tells him she knows he was present the night Kim Ian died.
Finally, it’s Professor Kang’s turn to be caught in the blinding horror of a car heading straight for him. He’s promptly terrorized by Yoon (who was behind the wheel), and I have to say, it’s immensely satisfying to see a weasel like him getting some of his own medicine. Even so, he maintains his innocence to Yoon saying, “Bring me the evidence!” By now, though, there is evidence (retrieved from Bucket Hat Baddie’s knapsack) — painfully incriminating black box footage that clearly shows Professor Kang killing Kim Ian with his car.
He tries to run away, but he’s apprehended by the cop duo that I’ve become quite fond of for popping up on the scene when the plot needs them the most. It doesn’t take long for Professor Kang’s rage to bring forth an accidental confession, and between that and the footage, he’s done for.
Much of the rest of the murder incident wrap-up is off-screen, and/or quickly dealt with. In a way, I’m glad of this, because it wasn’t exactly strong enough to warrant a lot of unpacking. While I liked that a lot of it turned out to be purely accidental (the lost pen tucked into the jacket pocket, the un-stabbing stabbing), there really wasn’t much meat there. Professor Kang and company were the usual embezzlers and hiders of sins.
With not much else to cover regarding the crime itself, Let Me Hear Your Song works on tying up its sub-plots. The final secret is revealed at least, when Soo-young tells Yi-young that she’s had her journal all along. She admits to actively preventing her from figuring out what happened to spare her from the suffering — and the truth about Yi-young’s past-and-forgotten crush on Yoon comes out. This solidifies her feelings for him (though I’m not sure they needed that), but in a completely predictable turn of events, Yoon is already halfway across the world, having left her in noble idiocy with only a heartfelt letter in his wake.
One year later, the new Ian Art Center is going strong, and everything is in its right place. All the orchestra folk are together under a non-evil roof. Maestro Nam, after serving his time, is now conducting for an orchestra of under-served students. He and Eun-joo shared their promised smile when they meet again. And finally, our Yi-young is now a professional musician. Everything is perfect… but not quite complete.
Yi-young herself claimed at the start of her story that it was not a romance, but the last episode, and the final conclusion itself, are both hinged on our couple being reunited. Yoon returns from overseas and seeks her out at the convenience store where they met, and replays their first interactions. He inverts their part-time job set-up, though, and asks her to teach him to sing this time. Though she resists at first, it’s not long before they’re a couple again. This was all very cute, but at this point, the drama really does boils down to a romance.
I’d say this ending is… adequate. I’m not unsatisfied or rolling my eyes, but a part of me does wish the drama had reached for a bit more. Rather than slowly unraveling a rather unmysterious tale of powerful people holding onto their power, I would have liked to see a drama that pulled the chair out from under us a bit more.
What if something a little more complicated happened that night? What if Yi-young was an unreliable narrator, or what if someone we were made to trust was actually involved in the incident? Let Me Hear Your Song didn’t get a chance to play this edge enough.
It started off with an edge, for sure, but that dulled over the course of the drama. I would have liked to see more insomnia, more mind games, and more musicianship. Still, Let Me Hear Your Song made great use of its music and its props. I enjoyed how the mystery revolved around important objects like the switchblade, the pen, and the CD, and how they had an almost personified importance. And though the music dominated less as the drama went on, the use of classical pieces throughout was brilliantly done.
I might not always love a drama that wraps up with a sappy romantic reunion, but one that sums up the moral of the story with some voice-over narration often works for me. In the closing scenes of Let Me Hear Your Song, Yi-young is practicing her timpani in a flood of sunlight. She’s a full person now, with no missing memories or hidden horrors in her mind — and maybe that’s why she’s lighter, freer, and finally able to play those drums like we knew she could all along. She muses about the strength of people who continue living even after suffering, and smiles sweetly as she peeks through the practice room at Yoon. Clearly, this message is for her, for him — and for us.
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