It is rather difficult to describe “Song of the Bandits”, a wild, exciting mix of historical drama, spectacular actioner, rugged western and comedy. Led by the charismatic Kim Nam-gil, the show is an explosive action/adventure romp through the badlands of the Manchurian wilderness, set against the backdrop of the Japanese colonization of Korea.
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The series mostly takes place in 1920 after the fall of the Joseon Empire and during Japanese occupation. The story centers around Lee Yun (Kim), a Korean native who used to serve in the Japanese military forces and carried out atrocities against defenseless civilians. Wracked by guilt, Lee is seen in the first episode deciding to go to Gando, officially part of China but in reality a lawless place inhabited by many Koreans and scoured by criminals, resistance fighters and Japanese paramilitary forces. There, he soon joins forces with friendly bandits who protect their families and fight the Japanese.
This is only the beginning of a wild, wild ride through the Gando desert, and the great idea is to make “Song of the Bandits” into an extravagant kimchi western pomped up with a healthy dose of flamboyant gun fu. Everything is there: horse chases, the attack of a stagecoach, a train robbery, stare-down-and-draw-fast duels, mixed with use of slow motion, characters slide- or jump-shooting their way through rooms full of baddies, etc. The action sequences are spectacular and rely on a clearly hefty budget to impress and dazzle, including the train attack during a massive sandstorm in episode 5. Extreme long shots and top shots of the desert and the train are spectacular, while the cinematography throughout the season is simply gorgeous.
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The show draws its visual inspiration from varied sources, including “Kill Bill” (an epic, heroic bloodshed in episode 2 involving a sexy female assassin, with parts of the close-quarter fights shot as shadow play behind shoji screens). Inspirations also include Hong Kong-style bullet ballet and, inevitably, “The Good, the Bad, the Weird” (the attack of the stagecoach). Even Sergio Leone’s “Once Upon a Time in the West” is referenced through a violent encounter in a tiny, dusty train station in the middle of nowhere. These references are huge ones, but the series manages to hold its own with impressive choreography, potent tracking shots in the middle of the melees and a rousing soundtrack that will whip audiences up.
This is the case as early as the opening, with NCT’s very cool “Bandit”, although the title sequence often uses a different song to surprise audiences. The opening adopts a comic book-like aesthetic to signal another one of its inspirations, something that is confirmed throughout the season. There is something of the swashbuckler as well, as sword fights, archery and crazy stunts abound in most episodes, with the titular bandits hiding in the forest until they can plough into even more Japanese soldiers.
The historical dimension of the series, on the other hand, brings the show back to earth, as many massacres of civilians and graphic acts of torture are depicted on screen from the very beginning of episode 1. More than a simple period drama, “Song of the Bandits” is a historical fiction, using fictional characters and storylines to dramatize an all-too-real period of Korean history. This gives the show a strange profile, tapping both into the fun dimension of the action sequences and the tragic circumstances of Japanese colonization. Overall, the show manages well its balancing act between the two, conveying a strong patriotic message of unity and shared identity through resistance against the invader.
This makes Lee Gwang-il one of the most interesting characters. A major in the Japanese army, Lee (played by the very convincing Lee Hyun-wook) is a Korean native who has betrayed his country and is collaborating with the enemy, ruthlessly killing his compatriots. Yet there is more to the character, who might be the only one to have something approaching an actual character journey. One scene, that has him humiliated by a Japanese superior forcing him to repeat his name three times (his Japanese name, then his native Korean one), gives a glimpse into the vast potential of the character, along with commentary on Japanese attempts at acculturating Korea. Such scenes, like another one showing the social hierarchy between Korean nationals based on social class (with Japanese citizens on top), point at how Lee could have served to convey interesting historical facts about colonization.
Lee is increasingly torn between his allegiance to the Japanese empire and more complex feelings, including a very twisted form of comradeship with our hero, who used to be his slave under the old nobi system (abolished in 1894). This, again, is dramatic gold for the show, and a late encounter between Lee and another one of his former slaves is a strong one. Unfortunately, this remains underdeveloped and Lee is often reduced to a cardboard villain, screaming to his ineffectual soldiers to “kill them all!!” dozens of times in the course of the season’s nine episodes. None of the characters will really grow into more than one-dimensional comic book figures, including Lee Yun, who far too quickly frees himself from his past. By the end of episode 1, he has already become a typical, clean-cut hero who has little to do beyond stylishly dispatching the villains. This points at some storytelling issues, with a jump in years between episodes 1 and 2 that feels somewhat abrupt.
On the other hand, the ruthless female contract killer, Eon Nyeon Yi (played with devastating swagger by Lee Ho-jung), hard on the heels of our hero, might be the real star of the series. Granted, the show almost borders on fantasy with such a character, and she clearly is the iteration of the ‘Hot Chick with A Gun’ trope. But Lee manages to partly transcend that cliché and to make her assassin ultimately more appealing than the do-goodie bandits who tend to be a little too friendly and nice. And contrary to them, she is given a backstory that reconnects with the history of colonization and of Koreans turning against each other. The banter and playful competition she shares with Lee Yun in later episodes are some of the highlights of the season, and the absence of a love story involving her helps mark her out.
The other characters are probably not helped by a story that is stretched thin over nine episodes, as five or six installments would probably have been enough to avoid the many repetitious plot points and scenes that litter the middle of the season. The vague love story between our melancholic hero and an independence fighter (Seohyun, perfect for that role) is also vastly underexploited and far from convincing. K-drama clichés like this get in the way of a show that otherwise could have been even more impactful.
The season ends as the infamous 1920 Gando massacre, the mass slaughtering of thousands of Korean nationals by the Japanese military, is getting under way, and episode 9 is mostly devoted to laying the ground for season two. Unfortunately, nothing has been heard on that subject since the show was released on Netflix in the fall of 2023, making a continuation increasingly unlikely. That would be a shame, as there was still a lot of potential in this series, and the story was really only getting started. Still, season 1 can stand on its own and is worth anyone’s binge-watching time.
