Chapter 86: The Cinematic Effect

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Entertainment All Around (No pop-ups)

Story takes place: April 2006
Recommended Song: “Together” by Pchy (“Love of Siam” OST)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental!

“May I Love You?” has been in theaters for three months now and has achieved remarkable success. In the end, the film played for a total of five months, and there was still no way to pull it from cinemas as audiences kept coming. In just 50 days, the number of viewers surpassed seven million; by the sixtieth day, it had exceeded ten million, breaking the previous records set by “Taegukgi” and “The King and the Clown.” Ultimately, the film’s total admissions broke seventeen million—meaning that one in every three Koreans had seen it. Such an extraordinary box office performance propelled the film to the very top of the Korean cinema box office rankings, outstripping both domestic and foreign titles and setting a record unlikely to be surpassed in the near future.

What made this feat even more astonishing was that “May I Love You?” was a low-budget production, made with only 3.5 billion won and featuring an entirely new cast. Alongside the earlier success of another modestly-budgeted film, “The King and the Clown,” this prompted many established directors to reconsider whether lavish spending was truly a prerequisite for cinematic triumph. How often does one achieve such unprecedented success with so little? At the same time, emerging directors found themselves inspired, eager to carve out a new realm for themselves. Thanks to its unusual subject matter and refreshing style, the record set by “May I Love You?” seemed destined to stand unchallenged for many years to come.

Naturally, the impact of the film’s sensational success was incalculable. Foremost among these was the profound influence of its subject matter. Love between those of the same gender, though the film advocated for love in its broadest sense, inevitably drew public attention. The central theme of forbidden romance became a hot topic. Social discourse around same-sex love aside, perhaps just as significant was the meteoric rise of the film’s four leads, who, owing to their widespread fame, became national celebrities. Among them, the two main actors—Jiang Yihan and Kim Jaejoong—became the talk of the town.

The film was widely praised for its fresh and elegant style, suffused with a subtle, lingering melancholy. The most memorable scene—the film’s emotional climax—was the only kiss shared by Jiang Yihan and Kim Jaejoong, a moment that became the subject of much discussion. Meanwhile, rumors and hopes among fans that the two might be romantically involved in real life left both actors feeling awkward.

Today, facing an interview with MBC, Jiang Yihan once again found himself in an uncomfortable position.

“Jiang Yihan, in the past few months ‘May I Love You?’ has swept the Korean film industry with overwhelming force. How do you feel about that?” the host asked.

“Honestly, I think there are countless factors that contributed to the film’s success. Our entire team was stunned by the results,” Jiang Yihan replied with a smile. “To tell the truth, this film nearly didn’t get made at all.”

“Oh? Why was that? How could such an excellent film almost not be made?” The host seemed genuinely surprised.

“Heh, it’s only because the film succeeded that everyone now calls it excellent, isn’t it?” Jiang Yihan answered, still smiling gently. “At the time, the script was considered too understated and lacking in dramatic highs and lows. Choosing to focus on pure, innocent love simply wasn’t in line with what the market wanted. And with the sensitive topic of same-sex love at its core, it was really a struggle to bring this film to life.”

“You make a good point. In recent years, few films in Korea have dared to be so pure and understated. Yet in the end, you achieved unparalleled brilliance. Tell us, what made you take on this film—or rather, this challenge?”

“Taking on this project was something of a gamble,” Jiang Yihan recalled, his thoughts drifting back to more than six months ago. “The subject matter was sensitive, yes, and the story was understated, but the emotions running through the film were deeply moving. To be honest, most people focused on the same-sex love between the leads, but the love between Xi and Hui was just as touching. Even the mother’s love for her child was moving in its own way. The kinds of love portrayed in the film could resonate with many people. That’s why I accepted the role.”

“Indeed, many critics have spoken of the film’s broad, inclusive concept of love. As a viewer, I watched it twice,” the host admitted with a bashful smile. “The first time, like everyone else, I focused on the lead characters’ relationship—quiet but real, helpless yet heartbreaking, so immersive that even as a man, I couldn’t help but be moved. The second time, prompted by reviews, I discovered even more layers. As far as the theme goes, the film is truly outstanding. So, what was your second reason for taking the role?”

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“The second reason is simple: the director was Park Youngho!” Jiang Yihan said cheerfully. The host looked puzzled, so Jiang Yihan explained, “My very first project was a commercial directed by Mr. Park. He gave me my first opportunity, and I trust him. That’s why I agreed to do this film.”

“Ah, so Director Park is truly your benefactor,” the host chuckled, remembering Jiang Yihan’s debut story. “Now, let’s move on to the question everyone’s been waiting for. Because of the film’s theme, many believe you must be gay. What do you say to that?”

Jiang Yihan laughed helplessly. “That’s really a misunderstanding. How should I put this? When I first accepted the role, I anticipated this issue. But I thought, it’s not that easy for a film like this to become a hit. And even if audiences got that impression, it would only mean we’d succeeded in creating believable characters. I just didn’t expect the success would be so overwhelming, leading to so many misunderstandings.”

“So you’re really not gay?”

“I’m really not. I have no reason to lie about that,” Jiang Yihan said with a smile. “At this point, I can only tell myself that the film’s success has led to these results—otherwise, I wouldn’t know what to do!”

“There’s no denying the film’s success—on average, one in three Koreans has seen it. That’s a staggering number. So, what’s your view on other gay people?”

“Making this film didn’t make me an expert, but I did come to understand some things. I can only say that all love in this world has its reasons. If you love, then love—don’t let anything hold you back,” Jiang Yihan replied with conviction.

“And what do you say to the fans who hope you and Kim Jaejoong will be together in real life?”

Jiang Yihan burst out laughing before composing himself. “Even my assistant has mentioned all this. I’ve heard there are all sorts of websites online supporting us as a couple. I can only thank everyone for their affection.”

“So, what’s it like when you see Kim Jaejoong these days?”

“How to put it… it still feels a bit awkward. When everyone keeps talking about us, it’s hard not to think about it,” Jiang Yihan sighed. “Actually, Jaejoong and I have always had a good relationship—I see him as a younger brother, and that hasn’t changed. But now, when we go out together, people shout strange things at us. It’s inevitably a bit embarrassing—after all, we’re both guys. But with a little self-adjustment, it gets easier. The awkwardness fades.”

“Adjust? How do you adjust? It must feel strange to be linked together every time you meet up.”

“That’s the effect of the movie,” Jiang Yihan replied. “Jaejoong and I have talked about it. Between us, there’s really nothing unusual—it’s all just the film’s influence. As long as we keep a good mindset, it’s fine. The audience saw the film and felt we should be together, but real life isn’t like that. After talking it over with Jaejoong, I realized the audience is still caught up in the movie, unable to separate fiction from reality—perhaps because the film was just so successful. But we’re still good friends, like brothers, and things are much better now than before. I believe everything will return to normal in time.”

“So it seems your lives are somewhat troubled by all this,” the host summarized, then produced a stack of papers. “Here are some highly supported posts from fans online about their feelings after watching the film. Let me read a few.”

“The first one says: ‘Same-sex love is indeed a special existence in society, but watching Zai and Han suffer for each other, break up for each other, I truly felt the helplessness of reality. Just like Han says in the film, I love you, but we can’t be together. Love between people of the same gender is as pure and beautiful as any other. We should be more tolerant and understanding.’” The host looked up at Jiang Yihan after reading.

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Jiang Yihan nodded. “As I said before, people should be more understanding. If you love, then love.”

“The next one is beautifully written. ‘I don’t know if this is reality or a dream. Seeing Zai and Han holding hands made the world feel so beautiful. Han’s smile carried sweetness, his tears held entanglement, his reluctant letting go and powerless persistence made me feel that perhaps, if this were reality, everyone would smile with happiness.’”

“That’s wonderfully written,” Jiang Yihan marveled. “It seems this viewer really wants the two of them to end up together!” He was still embarrassed—no matter how often he faced such things, it was hard to get used to.

“This one is a little different,” the host continued. “‘I felt heartache for Hui. To love someone silently and selflessly, expecting nothing in return—perhaps that’s what we call great love, true love. I don’t know what Hui was hoping for—maybe a smile from Han, a glance back, a fragment of his life. Everything Hui did made me ache for her. I wish Han could turn back and see the gentle, beautiful, and kind Hui waiting for him.’”

“What do you think of Hui in the film?” the host asked.

Relieved to finally be on a different topic, Jiang Yihan silently breathed a sigh of relief. “Hui’s devotion moved everyone, and also made people feel she deserved better. Han may be wonderful, but Hui is even more so. Her patience and dedication are like a small but warming ray of sunlight in the world. The film is fundamentally sad—whether it’s Xi, Hui, Zai, or Han, all are touched by sorrow. But in Hui and Xi, we can see a quiet warmth. Such pure love moves everyone.”

“Well said. Here’s a post about Xi,” the host continued. “‘Xi was happy loving Zai, and Zai was happy being loved by Xi, but in the end, Xi chose to let go and face life with a smile. I think she must have found happiness. Maybe she couldn’t get it from others, but she could give it to herself—perhaps in the moment of letting go, or facing Han’s smile, or learning to be forgiving. Xi is like an angel in our lives: she knows how to love, to be loved, to hold on, and to let go. In her, I see hidden wings.’”

“That’s a beautiful reflection. It seems everyone watched the film very closely. Now, here’s the last one, about Zai and Han,” the host said, pulling out the final post. “‘In Zai, we see a complete family, an outgoing personality, good looks, and academic excellence—he seems to have it all. Yet his perfection makes him seem unhappy. Only with Xi does his life feel whole, for what he lacked was true love—not something his family, personality, or studies could provide, but something Xi gave him. That’s how he became complete.

Han, with his lonely figure, introverted nature, angelic looks, and slender fingers, is like a ray of sunlight in the darkness—but he is alone, with no one else beside him. Han needs someone to rely on, and Zai’s arrival brought a touch of color to his life.

They needed each other, so they chose to be together, and their meeting makes people want to cheer. But they are also unfortunate, as the support they need comes from a relationship forbidden by society. This love could never have a happy ending. After the breakup, their tears, trembling fingers, bitten lips, and the words ‘I love you, but we can’t be together’ broke everyone’s heart.’”

“What do you think of this post, Jiang Yihan?” the host asked naturally.

Jiang Yihan listened intently, pausing for a few seconds before responding. “All I can say is that Zai and Han needed each other, so it was right for them to come together. And for various reasons, they parted. It’s precisely this sense of regret that makes Zai, Han, and the film itself unforgettable.” He paused before continuing, “From the moment I first received the script until now, I’ve often wondered what life would be like if Zai and Han could stay together. Even now, I have no answer. Just like many viewers, who hope that Kim Jaejoong and I could be together in real life—but that’s impossible. It’s this impossibility, this beautiful sense of incompleteness, that has given the film such power.”

The host smiled, concluding, “It seems Jiang Yihan is still troubled by the audience’s ‘hopes’—but after all, film is film and life is life. What’s impossible in a film is even more so in reality. Let this poignant imperfection become a special kind of beauty, forever remaining in our hearts.”
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