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In this series, the metaphor of sweet and sour tangerines captures the dichotomy of life's experiences. The sensitive acting, particularly in moments of overwhelming sadness, creates a profound connection with the audience, keeping them engaged and invested in the characters' journeys.

I've enjoyed IU's performances since "Hotel del Luna," and I've also explored "Moon Lovers" and "My Mister" - all excellent shows. IU transitions beautifully into the challenging dual role of the young mother, Ae-sun, and her adult daughter. Although I had seen charming Park Bo-gum in a minor role before, I plan to watch "Reply 1988" and more. The two actors portray a loving couple, Ae-sun and Gwan-sik, in their early adulthood. The young actors who depict them as children (Kim Tae-yeon and Lee Cheun-mu) and as middle schoolers (Yoon Seo-yeon and Moon Woo-jin) are impressive. In their senior years, Moon So-ri and Park Hae-joon deliver stellar performances. Their transformation invites us to reflect, as Ae-sun believes their love makes "her heart... always in spring." Viewers will also appreciate the guest celebrity appearances, but I wish we could see more of Kim Seon-ho as the passionate artist. It was a relief when Yeom Hye-ran, portraying Ae-sun's deceased mother, appears in her daughter's dreams (I won't elaborate to avoid spoilers).

The narrative style, characterized by a woman's voice, provides a reflective and often foreboding commentary, serving as a window into vintage South Korea, starting in 1951 on Jeju Island. The eras encompass times when social dancing was prohibited, people smoked on planes, and the Olympic torch was to pass through a fishing village - much to the dismay of the haenyeo, who depended on selling their catch. This tapestry of cultural reflections, ranging from societal norms to political scandals, is set against the backdrop of a changing world.

Early on, we learn valuable lessons, such as how a poor child may never be number one because the "rich kid" will automatically win in an unjust societal hierarchy. Pronounced class divisions and economic disparities frequently determine a person's fate. Many reviewers will relate to IU's reaction to being told she must throw away her dreams to not burden her family. Later, during a brief and happy moment on the young family's fishing boat, the storyteller warns, "They had no idea what else summer could bring." Life had been too fortunate that season - an unthinkable tragedy must ensue.

The customs depicted in several episodes are ingrained in people's lives, even when they attempt to reject them. A girl should not step onto a boat for fear of angering the "Sea King." Moments arise for folk singing or throwing red beans in a shamanistic ritual. Will a woman of limited means finally win a local political election against a wealthy male opponent?

As our protagonist couple ages, their grown children emulate their strengths and weaknesses. IU's portrayal of their adult daughter is particularly striking, as she embodies many of her mother's traits. Now, living in the city, she grapples with the clash of tradition and modernity. Because she grew up hungry, she feels the way to impress is to eat voraciously, but she soon learns how Seoul's ladies dine delicately. As Ae-Sun's adult brother Lee Chae-Hyun reveals his character's insecurities, he feels his parents have always neglected him, but we hope and cheer for him to succeed. The family dynamics of struggles and triumphs are deeply relatable, resonating with the experiences of many viewers.

This production marks a welcome return for scriptwriter Lim Sang-Choon, known for "When the Camellias Bloom." She again brings a poetic flair, as evidenced by lines such as "As I said my final goodbye to the boy closest to me, I felt like the Little Prince leaving his rose behind on the tiny planet" and "Eventually, time transforms everything into watercolor paintings." This writing adds complexity and depth to the narrative, inviting the audience to immerse themselves in the story.

The ending is particularly satisfying for this reviewer, especially when Ae-sun's editor reads her poetry and sheds a tear for joy. The final scene, with its impressionistic imagery, is strikingly filmed, with soft, dreamlike music. If you're open to experiencing the lives of those facing difficulties yet persevering, this is the series for you-tangerines and all.

The "After-School Doctor" series gently renders average days in a modern Japanese elementary school. But if we remember our childhood experiences, "average" means "unpredictable." Due to a nurse on maternity leave, a reluctantly assigned male pediatrician grumbles in an assembly: "Stay away from the infirmary. " This makes the children laugh-they expect female nurses-while the teachers shake at his negative demeanor. Of course, he means "stay healthy," so the infirmary becomes center stage. (AsianWiki nails the storyline.) Although the episodes occur in Japan, most schools worldwide experience similar themes, making us aware of how "acting out" children often hide a grave issue, whether physical or mental, deep inside. Lessons are learned, such as when the students take a first aid class, and one girl who hates the doctor (watch the series to know why) must perform emergency CPR. She and the doctor respect each other after saving a stranger's life. There is also comedic relief when the children beam as they gather around their grumpy, no-nonsense "after-school doctor." The entire cast works well together. As Dr. Makino Takashi, popular singer and visual artist Kôhei Matsushita smoothly transforms from a stiff professional to an empathetic soul, although he still attempts to hide this. He hints at kindness when he tends to his plants outside his office. His sense of urgency, when he realizes a crisis may erupt, is most compelling - as when he kneels, begging a girl to allow him to help her from self-harm.

Praise the child actors for their performances (the "MyDramaList" site credits most of them). They are all moving when they react to sad circumstances, whether having a defective heart, a fear of dying, recovering from an infectious disease. Or becoming a "cutter." The young actress who performs CPR is remarkable when she expresses fear until the doctor guides her through the process. Those playing characters who appear mean or indifferent reveal a façade when they hunger for understanding. A tall girl with curly hair is impressive just by her presence. Another excellent Japanese series, "Light of My Lion," focuses on child abuse, but there are moments of joy, and the little protagonist, who has so much fun acting and improvising, will steal your heart.

Morikawa Aoi leads the ensemble of teachers and administrators. Her frustration with Dr. Makino Takashi is evident, and she may appear overly emotional, but this contrasts with his altruism. Hokago Karte, as the school nurse, lets us know that the children will be fine when she returns. The other actors, also in supporting roles, clearly define their characters we should recognize in our life experiences.

The series strongly emphasizes children's health, highlighting how small steps signify great strides in improvement. It beautifully illustrates activities like drawing, writing, singing, and group games, which can bring joy and foster creativity in the young and adults. This focus on health and happiness is informative and inspiring, showing the potential for positive change.

This historical drama endures as a love story amid the horrors of war that force all to become victims, murderers, survivors, or saints. The script holds its own within universal themes, inspiring viewers to research the 17th-century period surrounding this epic. Those forced into slavery, despite being tortured, still have that human inner drive to live. There are cinematically breathtaking scenes, such as when Ahn Eun-jin, as our heroine, Yoo Gil-chae, a noblewoman, chases a spool of red silk thread, a symbol of cross-starred lovers, through a landscape within her dream. Here, we may fall in love with her and later respect her grit to hoe the earth, intelligence to work in trade - breaking through taboos for her station. And she must face her neighbors' cruel whispers that the intruders may have raped her. Through all her trials, she becomes more beautiful. Aspiring actors should study Min Nam-koong's brilliant portrayal of Lee Jeong-hyeon. Although the man with a questionable past may appear indifferent to what is happening around him, his eyes express his genuine emotions of pain or love. Those he seeks to protect, whether a maiden, kisaeng, scholar, servant, farmer, or royal blood, we too are sympathetic, for he reads their true hearts.

Skeptics could take a deep breath to travel through this storyteller's vision, releasing any bias. They claim how overly dramatic the actors are,but are true to their characters' sufferings. Occasionally, scenes may feel exaggerated, and there are no redeeming Qing dynasty characters, but forgive as each scene draws us in. The dangerous "cat-and-mouse" dialog between Lee Jeong-hyeon and Gak Hwa (Lee Chung-ah), the enemy princess, is sophisticated and intense, for even their power cannot protect them from destruction. Despite his angelic face and voice, Ryan Eung's (Kim Yoon-woo) jealousy betrays those he loves; nonetheless, his personal tale makes us weep.

Season One intentionally echoes Gone with the Wind (which initially threw this reviewer), while Season Two is almost Tolstoian, as when the farmers work the land. But there are clear Korean essences: poetic phrases to flowers and the moon, a pretty girl floating on a swing, lovers' longing glances at a distance, embroidered slippers, court and folk festivals, and the arts, with characters dramatic or comical. A charming scene shows an elderly couple - still in love - renewing their vows. We must applaud the artists and composers who contributed to this haunting score, including Kai, who sings "With My Heart," and the entire cast and crew.