“K-Dramas saved my life,” said Meira Anastasia (co-writing Ernest Prakasa‘s Imperfect) during the post-screening Q&A in JAFF 2024. She mentioned that she was neck-deep into the pandemic slump when she started to dive head-first into K-dramas and finally got herself smitten. Through her full-feature debut, Love Unlike In K-Dramas (original: Cinta Tak Seindah Drama Korea), she flaunts her infatuation with the genre and showcases almost everything she likes about it in her film.
From the get-go to the ending, the film showcases just how the director is obsessed with K-dramas through respectable homage and callbacks to the genre clichés. Yet, it avoids being a mere imitation or recreation of Korean narratives, which often carry deeply rooted socio-cultural and socio-economic subtexts. While many scenes are filmed in South Korea, providing visual authenticity and sought-after aesthetics, the story doesn’t go beyond that. It’s still an Indonesian tentpole film through and through; but, it’s always apparent how the film is marred with nods to K-dramas – through all the cheers and all the cringe, however blatant they might seem.
Makjang 101
There’s an inexplicable pull to Makjang dramas that attracts devoted fans, no matter how often they resort to shock factors and heightened senses. This pull curiously works like a great filter; the same force that draws avid followers in alienates more casual viewers and those unfamiliar with K-dramas tropes. Anastasia‘s debut isn’t a 100-percent Makjang drama per se, but it undoubtedly carries explicit influences of the subgenre all over the place.
Lutesha, the leading lady in Love Unlike K-Dramas (2024) – isn’t typically portraying a dominatrix, but she ate.
From the outset, it’s apparent that the film doesn’t just draw influences from K-dramas but is modeled after them. Love Unlike In K-Dramas begins with a surprise trip to South Korea arranged for the protagonist, Dhea (Lutesha), by her long-time lover, Bimo (Ganindra Bimo), alongside her BFFs, Kikan (Dea Panendra) and Tara (Anya Geraldine). The way the director stages the scene gives away a deliberate sense of homage – setting the tone for the whole film. Within the first five minutes, the film already ticks all the Makjang boxes: larger-than-life characters, exaggerated acting, and questionable character motivations, highlighting the film’s strengths and its struggle to balance tribute with originality.
The trio acts as a surrogate for the director’s inner obsession with the K-wave. They’re dying to go to South Korea for first-hand experiences of the world they’ve only seen on television – visiting iconic K-drama locations, falling head over heels for charming Korean oppas, and more. Yet, the first impending bombshell awaits around the corner, not long after the trio arrives. In a strange twist of fate, Dhea is reunited with her teenage crush, Julian (Jerome Kurnia), in a food stall. At this point, I started questioning myself, have I seen this story before?
The central conflict seems to be laid bare there: a rather formulaic love triangle destined for a shipping war. It’s the typical present-versus-past drama—the stable current relationship and the forbidden, sweet nostalgia. Each side has its own supporters, and, just like the protagonist, viewers are invited to get involved in the tug-of-war. Now, which part of it isn’t unlike K-dramas?
Love Quintessentially Like K-Dramas
Is there a term for over-homage? When a work of art pays so many tributes to its influences that it becomes indistinguishable from them? If there is, Love Unlike In K-Dramas might suffer from it. Anastasia clings too tightly to her obsession, and as a result, the film blurs the line between homage and direct mimicry. Yet, this isn’t a cheap imitation; it’s more of a pastiche—though perhaps unintentionally so.
The film adheres religiously to K-drama dramaturgy—structuring itself like 16 two-hour episodes crammed into less than two hours. This means the story attempts to explore every possible subplot, including constant detours from the main plot, filler scenes, and an expanded focus on side characters. While fans might embrace these as fan-service, casual viewers may find them distracting—a sentiment the film doesn’t entirely escape.
Anya Geraldine and Dea Panendra as elevated side characters in Love Unlike In K-Dramas (2024)
At first, these subplots feel like mere hints, but Love Unlike In K-Dramas begins to delve deeply into the psyche and conflicts of each of the original trio as Dhea’s main conflict reaches its first climax. In Imperfect fashion, the plot explores Kikan’s insecurities about her body, now that she’s a mother of three. Meanwhile, Tara becomes entangled in the media circus of the showbiz industry. The problem lies in the execution: the film takes so much time developing these subplots that they overshadow the main conflict.
This approach is typical in K-dramas (where the episodic structure allows for extended exposition), and the decision to replicate it here makes sense as a servicable nod. However, the way these subplots grow within the film further highlights the issue of over-homage. In K-dramas, extended runtimes allow for such exploration, but in this film, they dilute the emotional impact of the central storyline.
Anastasia admitted during the same Q&A session that she wrote the story with these three characters in mind from the beginning. While this feels sincere, it also suggests a reluctance on the writer’s part to let go of ideas that could have made the film more concise. The problem is, Love Unlike In K-Dramas has a particular storyline structure – going back and forth between two timelines to unravel the conflicts between the past and the present. Some of the subplots are given enough hints in the nostalgic segments, but alternating them with the main conflict really pulls off a bit of the gravity. At one point, the film even abandons the main conflict entirely for a temporary cliffhanger to prioritize subplot development. This ambitious choice, though well-intended, ultimately hinders the film from reaching its full potential as an over-the-top romcom.
In the end, Love Unlike in K-Dramas offers a refreshing take on a love-letter film, but its reception depends heavily on the viewer’s relationship with the genre. For fans of K-dramas, the references and indulgences may feel like a warm embrace. For others, the lack of subtlety, frequent detours, and overstuffed subplots could prove alienating. Either way, it’s clear that this film was crafted with immense love for its inspiration. It’s sweet, silly, and indulgent—for better or worse.
