Critica sin filtro

The Scandal is now on Netflix.

First, just for context, it is worth clarifying where this story comes from, because there already seems to be some confusion about it.

The Scandal is a direct adaptation of Les Liaisons dangereuses, the novel by Choderlos de Laclos, published in 1782, as Netflix itself credits it.

At the same time, director Jung Ji-woo has described the series as a remake of the 2003 Korean film Untold Scandal, directed by E J-yong, which transplanted Laclos's story to the Joseon era.

And when E J-yong made that film, he also pointed to the 1988 Hollywood adaptation Dangerous Liaisons, directed by Stephen Frears, written by Christopher Hampton, and starring Glenn Close, John Malkovich and Michelle Pfeiffer, as a predecessor.

So there are several layers of adaptation here: the original 1782 novel, the famous 1988 film, the 2003 Korean reinterpretation, and finally this new 2026 series.

With that out of the way, let's talk about the series.

What a way to butcher and sanitize a story.

Because The Scandal did understand one part of the original material: the eroticism, the seduction, and the games of manipulation. In fact, there are episodes where it handles those elements extraordinarily well.

The problem is that it understood the seduction, but was afraid of the consequences.

And there are five changes that dismantle much of the tragedy of Choderlos de Laclos.

First: Cho Won's death.

Come on.

In the novel, Valmont dies after a duel with Danceny and, before dying, hands over the correspondence that will eventually contribute to Merteuil's destruction. His death is part of the machinery of consequences that he himself helped set in motion.

Here, Cho Won simply goes out alone in a boat, lets himself fall into the water, and dies. Worse still, nobody even knows that he died. They believe he ran away.

A death directly connected to revenge, guilt, and the downfall of these characters is transformed into a melancholic, romantic disappearance.

Second: Hui-yeon survives.

In the novel, Tourvel's emotional destruction ultimately leads to her death. Here, Cho Won confesses that everything began as a wager, breaks her heart, a year passes... and Hui-yeon returns to his house still hoping that she might find him there.

Tragedy becomes romantic nostalgia. The woman destroyed by Valmont's game is turned into the typical long-suffering heroine who continues waiting for the man who destroyed her.

Third: So-ok, or Cécile.

In the original work, Valmont's corruption of Cécile is one of the darkest and most ruthless demonstrations of who this man really is.

Here, Cho Won never goes through with that part of the plan, and the pregnancy is tied to In-ho, the Danceny counterpart. By doing this, the series removes from its version of Valmont one of the actions that would make it far more difficult to keep selling him to the audience as a misunderstood romantic lead.

Fourth: Lady Cho gets away practically unscathed.

And for me, this is one of the most serious changes.

Merteuil ends up being devoured by the very game of manipulation she created. Lady Cho, on the other hand, retains her position, is never publicly exposed, loses none of her status, and ends up simply crying over her cousin.

And fifth: the letters.

Throughout the entire series, we are shown letters. Letters used to seduce, letters used to lie, letters used to manipulate, letters used to conceal identities and move people around like pieces on a chessboard.

And in the end?

Nothing.

In Laclos, the correspondence is not decoration. It is practically the murder weapon of the story. What these characters wrote in private eventually becomes evidence of what they did and directly contributes to their destruction.

Here, the series spends its entire runtime using the letters, and when the moment finally comes for them to explode, it defuses them.

Nobody learns the truth. Lady Cho is never exposed. Cho Won disappears almost as a romantic tragic figure. Hui-yeon keeps waiting for him. And So-ok ends up established as a concubine with her child.

That is my problem with this adaptation.

Not that it changed events. An adaptation has every right to do that.

The problem is that it changed precisely the consequences of those events.

And without consequences, Les Liaisons dangereuses loses its teeth.

In the end, they chose to turn a tragedy about manipulation, desire, arrogance, and self-destruction into a far more conventional and sanitized romantic melodrama.

They knew how to make them desire.
They knew how to make them manipulate.
They knew how to make them fuck.

But when the time came to make them pay... they made a K-drama.