[Author’s Note: Hotel del Luna is a 16-episode Korean television drama aired in 2919. Caution is required for the spoiler. This essay is prompted by this drama, which was treated in a new class, Experience Korean Culture through Film (EKCF). I am ever grateful for this opportunity to assess matriversal (read Magoist) soteriology, eschatology, and cosmology through this drama. This drama takes viewers to a liminal time/space. At the liminal timespace, we see how one meets the other. Almost all objects of the drama remind viewers of their liminal property. The female main character, neither living nor dead, stands between the living and the dead. The ghost-serving moon lodge she operates is visible to both ghosts and people. So is the tree of the moon spirit, a symbol for the tree of life or the world tree, which summons the moon lodge to take place. And so are all beings with physical forms. The liminal timespace is where we find ourselves in the Reality of WE/HERE/NOW.]
Part II Jang Manwol, a Modern Surrogate of the Magoist Mudang (Korean Shaman)
Before unravelling further, it is necessary to understand some Korean words and notions (below definitions are based on my understanding of traditional Korean worldview and eschatology):
Guisin (鬼神 the divine and/or a ghost) is fluid in meaning. Broadly, it refers to the divine with supernatural power. Narrowly, it refers to the dead person’s soul or spirit (hon 魂 or neok 넋), which lingers around the living. In this sense, a guisin is the wandering spirit of the dead. In Hotel del Luna, guisin refers to the latter. It is simply referred to as gui (鬼). Wongui refers to a ghost with unrelenting resentment, whereas akgui means an evil ghost who has harmed a human.
A human consists of hon (魂 airy essence) and baek (魄 earthly essence) as well as the body. At the time of one’s physical death, hon ascends to the air, whereas baek descends to the earth. hon is interchangeably used with neok (넋).
Apart from hon, neok, and baek, such terms as gi (氣 airy essence), eol (얼 esense or spirit), and yeong (靈 spirit) also concern invisible and meta-physical entities.
Iseung (이승) literally means “this ride or vehicle,” which I refer to as the realm of physical life.
Jeoseung (저승) literally means “that ride or vehicle,” which I refer to as the realm of after life.
Wonhan (怨恨 unrelenting resentment) is caused by unfair treatments by an individual, culture, or society. It is a seed for morally justified revenge (reversing the reversed).
Samdocheon (三途川 river of three paths) refers to the river that the hon of the dead crosses to reach the realm of after life, jeoseung. Although this river is referred to as three bridges in Buddhist teaching, I hold that it refers to the nine-symbolism of the matriversal reality. The number three is an epitome of the nine numbers (3×3). The discussion of nona symbolism requires another space. In short, the nine represents the cosmic music or Sonic Numerology (a ceaseless interplay of musically charged nine numbers), the metamorphic force of the matriverse (see my discussion on Sonic Numerology elsewhere).
Brilliantly this drama smuggles the task of placating ghosts ridden with wonhan (怨恨 unrelenting resentment), traditionally assumed as the task of Mudangs (Korean Shamans), from Muism. Despite that the ghost-serving theme is highly evocative of Shamanic tasks, this drama craftily does away with the air of Mudangs. Without resorting to Muism, the drama successfully forges a “secular ritual” of appeasing angry ghosts. An imaginary ghost-serving hotel visualizes the pantheon of ghosts. I said “imaginary,” in the sense that it takes place in the realm of inbetween (between iseung and jeoseung), meta-physical and invisible.
That Manwol is a modern Mudang surrogate is palpable to those who are familiar with Korean Shamanism. Viewers may not immediately associate Manwol with Mudang due to her secular and consumerist demeanor. She does not carry an air of Mudang at all. Her profane personal traits, a device to build the plot, lead viewers away from her Shamanic identity per se. Manwol takes her duty to operate the ghost-serving lodge as a punishment rather than a gift from Mago. Also, the picturesque high-rising hotel that this drama sets as a guest house for ghosts with the hotelier outlooks of the main characters hides away its Shamanic association. Conservatively speaking, Manwol’s behaviors are symbolic as those of a Shaman. The fact that she is “neither living nor dead but simply existing” who conducts the “business” of serving ghosts accords with the liminal identity of Mudangs who mediate people and ghosts/the divine. Foremost, the drama has a crucial and indispensable foundation: It sets Mago Halmi (Great Mother, Crone, Creatrix) as the supreme divine. Here is the twist; While the drama makes a visible connection between Manwol and Mago, modern Muism has lost a direct connection between Mudangs and Mago, at least to the majority of Mudangs today. According to my research, Muism is the oldest religion of Magoism. Even Korean folklore says that Mudangs refer to the “daughters” of Mago Halmi.
That Manwol is a Mudang surrogate becomes tangible by the fact that she is fixated to wolryeongsu (월령수 the tree of the moon spirit). Wolryeongsu is no fictitious tree but the symbol for the divine tree in Korean Muism and folklife. Seemingly dead, the tree reflects the inner landscape of Manwol. Bound to wolryeongsu, she cannot leave the place where the tree is. As she takes a step toward reconciling with her resentment, the tree displays a sign of life by putting out new leaves and flowers. And the tree is the heart of her lodge. Wolryeongsu is a liminal object/subject, which binds the living and the dead within the natural rhythm of time and space, a topic to be discussed at a later part.
Gut (굿 Korean Shaman rituals) is replaced with Manwol’s capitalist profane actions presented as a hodgepodge charm. Her “gut” is conducted through her consumerist behaviors such as extravagant outfits and accessories, epicurean eat-outs, compulsive shopping, collecting luxury cars and boats, etc., which is doubtless a drama’s strategy to draw commerciality. It is too complex to judge the nature of this drama’s substitution of Muism, however. On the one hand, the drama silences Muism. On the other hand, it brings out the forgotten matrix of Magoism to the public. Note that the practice of Muism escapes the boundary of a religion among Koreans. Muism is a religion which permeates the very fabric of folk life. In that sense, the drama’s non-Muist “ritual” of placating ghosts does not come across as odd or negative.
(To be continued)