Reviews

Peaches and Cream I Guess?

This spinoff sequel was fun and funny like how the original series was. I just lacked to see what the point of this was? Because it didn't really push the story any more, if anything it went backwards with certain things including our side couple of William & Est. I'll stick by that more BL's/GL's need multiple seasons or spinoffs, but this one wasn't necessarily one of them.

Also Jimmy & Sea, Force & Book, Tay & New and Junior & Mark showing up was so freaking random XD. Honestly the best part of this spinoff because I got to see them all in one thing and they used their actual names.

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What I loved most about Double Helix is that it never treats its characters as completed people. From beginning to end, everyone is in the process of becoming. They make mistakes, cling to old beliefs, outgrow certain fears, and discover uncomfortable truths about themselves. Rather than presenting growth as a straight line, the drama portrays it as a messy, often painful process, and that honesty is what makes the story so powerful.

Many dramas are built around transformation, but few are willing to show how inconsistent transformation actually is. In Double Helix, progress is often followed by regression. Moments of clarity are followed by doubt. Characters learn important lessons only to struggle applying them when emotions become overwhelming. Instead of frustrating me, this made them feel incredibly real. Growth here isn't measured by perfection. It's measured by the willingness to keep trying despite repeated failures.

The writing excels because it understands that people don't change simply because they want to. They change when circumstances force them to confront beliefs they've carried for years. Some of the most compelling moments in the drama occur when characters realize that the strategies they once relied on for survival are now preventing them from finding happiness. Watching them wrestle with that realization gave the story a depth that extended far beyond romance.

I was also impressed by how the series handles emotional responsibility. It never allows characters to hide behind their pain or use their past as an excuse. Their experiences explain their actions, but they do not erase accountability. That balance between compassion and responsibility is maintained throughout the narrative, making the emotional conflicts feel mature and meaningful.

Another strength is the drama's refusal to simplify relationships. Love is never portrayed as a magical solution. Instead, the series acknowledges that genuine connection requires communication, vulnerability, trust, and self-awareness. The characters often love each other long before they are emotionally capable of sustaining a healthy relationship, and that tension becomes one of the story's most fascinating themes.

What truly stayed with me was the way Double Helix views identity. The characters spend so much of the story defining themselves through old wounds, obligations, and expectations. Their greatest challenge isn't finding love. It's learning who they are when those familiar definitions begin to fall away. That internal journey gives the narrative an emotional richness that lingers long after the final episode.

By the end, I felt as though I had watched people evolve rather than simply watched a plot unfold. Their victories felt earned because their struggles felt genuine. Their growth mattered because it came at a cost. Every setback, every realization, and every difficult conversation contributed to a larger portrait of people learning how to live more honestly with themselves and with each other.

For me, Double Helix is exceptional because it understands that human beings are never finished. We are constantly rewriting ourselves through our choices, our relationships, and our willingness to confront uncomfortable truths. This drama captures that process with remarkable sensitivity and intelligence, creating a story that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. It's emotionally insightful, beautifully written, and easily a 10/10.

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Most romance dramas build toward a confession, a reunion, or a happy ending. Double Helix builds toward something far more difficult: understanding.

What fascinated me throughout the series was that the central question was never whether the characters loved each other. That much was obvious from the beginning. The real challenge was whether they could truly see each other beyond their fears, assumptions, and emotional baggage. In many ways, the story is less about finding love and more about learning how to understand the person standing in front of you rather than the version of them you've created in your own mind.

The writing is exceptional because it recognizes how easily people become trapped inside their own perspectives. Every character believes they understand what is best, what is necessary, and what must be done. Yet time and again, those convictions are challenged by reality. The drama doesn't present this as a failure of intelligence or morality. It presents it as a deeply human limitation. We all interpret the world through our own experiences, and Double Helix explores the consequences of that with remarkable nuance.

I particularly admired how the story refuses to simplify emotional conflict. The characters are not divided into those who are right and those who are wrong. Instead, they are individuals carrying different fears, responsibilities, and expectations into the same relationship. Watching those competing emotional realities collide was far more engaging than any conventional romantic obstacle could have been.

Another strength is the narrative's commitment to gradual revelation. The story doesn't rely on sudden twists to redefine its characters. Rather, it carefully expands our understanding of them over time. Moments that initially seemed straightforward became increasingly complex as new context emerged. I often found myself reconsidering earlier scenes, not because the facts had changed, but because my understanding of the people involved had deepened.

What truly elevates Double Helix is its emotional maturity. It understands that love alone cannot resolve every conflict. Communication matters. Accountability matters. Self-awareness matters. The series repeatedly demonstrates that genuine affection is only one part of a healthy relationship. Without growth and understanding, even sincere love can become tangled in fear, pride, and misunderstanding.

The performances deserve equal praise because they capture these complexities with incredible subtlety. Some of the most powerful moments occur not during emotional confrontations but during quiet scenes where a single expression communicates what words never could. The actors trust the audience to recognize those emotions, and the drama is stronger because of that trust.

By the final episode, I realized that the story's greatest achievement wasn't making me care about the outcome of the romance. It was making me care about the people themselves. Their fears felt real. Their mistakes felt understandable. Their growth felt earned. I wasn't simply watching a relationship develop. I was watching individuals learn to confront the parts of themselves that had prevented genuine connection for so long.

For me, Double Helix succeeds because it understands that the deepest form of intimacy isn't love itself. It's understanding. And few dramas have explored that idea with as much patience, intelligence, and emotional honesty as this one. It's thoughtful, beautifully written, and emotionally resonant from beginning to end. An unquestionable 10/10.

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"Por que suas lágrimas caem tão apaixonadamente?"

Tem muita coisa boa para se aproveitar em Love Thunder: o elenco, a trilha sonora, a direção e os diálogos. Ainda assim, por algum motivo, o drama nunca consegue atingir todo o seu potencial.
A premissa é linda, um amor que atravessa o tempo, mas nunca consegue escapar de um destino trágico. O problema é que a curta duração acaba limitando o desenvolvimento da história. O roteiro estabelece que os protagonistas estão presos a um ciclo em que cada primeiro beijo inevitavelmente termina em morte, mas nunca dedica tempo suficiente para explorar o porquê dessa maldição ou o significado dela. A ideia é fascinante, mas acaba parecendo maior do que o próprio drama consegue sustentar.
Ainda assim, há muito o que admirar. A direção aposta em uma encenação que lembra uma peça de teatro, com enquadramentos e movimentos de câmera que dão personalidade à obra. Os diálogos são delicados, a trilha sonora acompanha muito bem o tom melancólico da narrativa e o elenco entrega interpretações bastante convincentes.
É uma pena que a duração curta impeça o drama de explorar todas essas boas ideias e ele acabe se tornando apenas uma obra medíocre.

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"I'm a bagger, I can carry anything. Even you."

Third World Romance was a romance set during the waning days of Covid’s terror on the world. Service professions were hit hard with many people losing their jobs. As people were able unmask it was a scramble to become employed again. During this time, two people struggling to pay their bills met and found a possible road to happiness.

Alvin and Bree meet on a rainy day while standing in line for government food assistance when Bree commandeers him and his umbrella. After raiding a truck and escaping, the two swap shoes and names. When Alvin helps facilitate a job for her at the grocery where he works, the two begin to spend more time together. Alvin’s main concern is being happy and getting along with people. Bree is more concerned about making her rent payment and how to bring her mother home after being left stranded jobless in Oman. Bree also challenges her bosses for taking advantage of their employees. Happiness is not high on her list and Alvin intends to change that.

Third World Romance was a rarity for the Filipino films I’ve watched. For the most part it was just two ordinary people hustling to make ends meet and having to deal with corrupt bosses. Bree’s fight for workers’ rights was put to the test when desperation drove her. Alvin had an unconventional home life which was part biological family and part found family that included a trans woman and gay brothers that was shown as loving and normal. As in most romances there was the typical dark moment when Alvin and Bree’s love and dreams were tested that pushed the limits.

TWR was a break from interfering families, ex-lovers, amnesia, overt comedy, melodrama, and infidelity. This film focused on showing the strain debt and financial fears placed on a budding romance. The strain could make one person feel burdened and the other indebted when help was offered. Alvin would have to work overtime to convince Bree that love was possible and dreams attainable if they stuck together and supported each other. Not a strong film, but enjoyable largely due to the performances and different perspectives on a familiar genre.

6 August 2026
Notes: There was an eleven-year age gap if that is concerning. Not sure what age Alvin was supposed to be but Carlo was pushing 40. The gap didn’t bother the actors as they were married in 2024.

F Rated Note: This film was directed by a woman-- Dwein Baltazar who has a good sized film catalog.

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Seria incrivel se não enrolasse tanto do meio pra frente

A premissa dessa série é muito boa, o enredo é intrigante, a fotografia é apaixonante, mas a história se perde no meio do caminho. Os primeiros episódios são como um soco: empolgantes, curiosos, a abertura em si é super criativa e planeja te pegar pelo diferente, pelo atípico. Mas, chega no episódio 7, você já não aguenta mais o vai e vem do casal principal, não há quimica entre eles, não há amorosidade, apenas afastamento, intrigas e uma frieza que não combina com a premissa inicial, muito menos com o nome da série que se supõe ser romântica. Tem tanto distanciamento entre os protagonistas que o casal secundário dá um banho neles em termos de evolução, carinho e magnetismo. O último episódio parece chegar já com as cortinas fechadas, de tão entediante, sem vida e derrotado. Uma decepção gigante por um dorama que começou tão bem. Você começa vendo com a expectativa clara de que está vendo algo diferente do normal, você termina querendo que esse sofrimento acabe logo e se perguntando se deveria ter insistido tanto numa história que acabou antes mesmo do letreiro final.

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အကောင်းဆုံး Series!

เปนซีรีที่ยอดเยียมมาก มีเนื้อเรื่อง มีเรืองราว ทำให้น่าติดตาม ต่อเนือง สืบเนือง จากบทอื่น ๆ ข้าพเจ้าไม่เคยอ่านหนังสือต้นฉบับ แต่ได้ดูซีรี รู้สึกขอบคุณที่มันถูกสร้าง ทำให้รู้เรืองได้ง่าย ชอบทั้ง GL และ BL ที่มีเนื้อเรือง และมีการถ่ายทำที่สะอาดตา มีบทพูดที่ปัญญาชนสามารถดูได้ ไม่มีคำชั้นต่ำปะปน

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Mortal enemy aka the Editing

I was so excited about this drama. The promo materials were exceptional. Even now if you look at the poster you get stunning visuals, they are unique, no other drama materials look like this.
Visually, Ashes to Crown, is the same. Some might hate it because it's very different. Very red, yes. But colors have their meanings, they tell the story of to which faction the character belongs, where story is set, and how the characters feel. Flashbacks are not just black/white but very originally main characters are in muted colors. But sometimes, the color storytelling is pushed to the point of ridiculous, like when secret assassin army appears dressed - so discreetly - in yellow, with bright yellow headbands. Part of visual storytelling? Yes. Stupid? Very much so.
Story wise, I like this drama very much. I am not one for romance and this is a political drama with side romance. Zhou Yiran and Chen Duling have chemistry but... let me get back to that in a second. Ashes to Crown is a game of chess more than a simple revenge story. The moment FL is reborn and makes her first move, everything goes. She has her memories from the first life but this is a whole new game. A game full of scheming, plots, court drama and backstabbing.
Strong points are the characters and actors themselves. Chen Duling's Chu Zhao is clever, but not too much, she has her lapses of judgement and I find that refreshing. She isn't perfect. Absolute shout out to the court trio of Xiao Xun (Wang Ruichang), Deng Yi (Gao Maotong) and especially Xie Yanfang (Tang Xiaotian) who were joy to look at. These three were scene stealers, perhaps to the detriment of the main duo, or worse, to our main female lead. It's true, often, what they had going on was more interesting than anything else. Unfortunately, Zhou Yiran's Xie Yenlai comes out the weakest from the five "main" players, mostly because his only ambition is to protect Chu Zhao, that is the whole point his existence and that's not enough to make the character interesting.
Writing is, well, good and bad. The characters make sense, their actions too, however the over exposition is less then desired. Especially in the beginning, it's more tell and tell and not show/don't tell. But it's true the drama is only 24 episodes and to pack in the story, shortcuts and fasten introductions are needed.
Music is wonderful. Chen Duling and Zhou Yiran sang their song and the main theme is one of my favorite this year. The sound editing belongs to the category of editing and... yeah.
The editing.
The thing that killed this drama and why it currently sits on 7.8 and not higher. In one word: abysmal. Characters stare at each other five business days. It's the "when I look you, and you look at him, and when I look at you, you look at him..." it gets old very VERY quickly. Yeah, long glances are part of the cdrama game, but there is a long glance and there is 5 hours long stare. The other thing is that this is cut like Indian day time soap opera. Quick zoom-ins to get reaction, loud sound effects following it, fade in black over and over in one scene like it's a tiktok video, character running suddenly speeds up like the Flash... It's so stupid. It's really really REALLY stupid. Unforgivably so. (Other drama this year already proved that you can have amazing cast and budget, but if the editing is bad, you tank like Titanic.)
If this drama was edited well it could've been easy 8.5-9.0. But it wasn't. Originally, I gave it 7.0 but now that I finally finished it I'm going with 7.5. For the entertainment value. I had fun watching. It flew by. I think this is a great drama to get you out of the slump.

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The Quiet Anatomy of Moral Decay

Set in 1609 during the Wanli era of the Ming Dynasty, Ripe Town begins with a string of gruesome murders that seem to have nothing in common except for one chilling detail. Every victim is staged in an eerie tableau, each crime scene marked by the different cryptic messages. Determined to uncover the truth, young Bailiff Qu San Geng joins forces with his friends, only to find themselves peeling back layers of deception, buried secrets, and a cold case that refused to stay dead. As the investigation spirals deeper, the mystery becomes less of a whodunit and more of a descent into the ghosts of the past, where every answer comes at a price.

"To Confucius, it's just so hard to be a decent man."

That line perfectly captures what Ripe Town is really about. At its heart, this is a story about moral decay, justice, and the exhausting struggle of navigating the space between right and wrong. The murder of Captain Leng Wu Ji, Qu San Geng's mentor, immediately makes the investigation personal. The first episode deserves praise for how naturally it flows from tragedy to grief, then to investigation, before ending on an intriguing revelation that immediately hooked me.

San Geng leads the investigation, but interestingly, he is never written as the kind of protagonist who dominates every scene. Instead, he serves as the embodiment of growth. As a young bailiff, he wants to uphold justice with clean hands, believing the world should be divided into black and white. Through frequent flashbacks with Captain Leng, however, the story slowly dismantles that idealism. Captain Leng teaches him that reality is rarely so simple. Sometimes justice requires imperfect methods, and sometimes you only have the wrong tools to reach the right outcome. One of my favorite lines in the drama comes from Captain Leng:

"Conscience is such a thing. If you want to sell it, it won't sell for much. But if you want to keep it, then it's expensive."

It is such a beautiful paradox. Integrity itself has little market value, yet preserving it often demands tremendous sacrifice. Throughout those flashbacks, we watch San Geng admire his mentor's teachings while still desperately trying to preserve his own ideals. It is only after Captain Leng dies and that protective figure disappears that San Geng truly begins to understand what those lessons meant. Bai Yu Fan portrays this evolution convincingly. He honestly reminds me of a chick that has just hatched, slowly discovering that the world is far harsher than it first appeared. His performance is not flashy, but it feels sincere, and that sincerity makes San Geng's growth believable.

After Captain Leng's death, another fascinating character joins the investigation, Judge Song Chen. If Captain Leng teaches San Geng how the world works, Song Chen reminds him what justice should strive to be. Song Chen is perhaps the purest soul in this morally grey world, which is ironic considering he himself is a victim of one of its greatest injustices.

Once a brilliant prodigy with limitless potential, Song Chen became entangled in an Imperial Examination fraud case born from political factionalism. Wrongfully imprisoned, tortured, stripped of his ability to paint after losing fingers on his dominant hand, and left with a crippled leg, he emerges from prison carrying wounds that never truly heal. His closest friend dies because of the same injustice, leaving him burdened with both grief and survivor's guilt. Even after his innocence is restored, nothing meaningful can be returned to him. His scars have already become permanent.

Despite all of this, Song Chen continues pursuing justice with remarkable conviction. Ironically, his own methods are not without cruelty. As a judge, he becomes known for extracting the teeth of criminals during interrogation. It is an uncomfortable contradiction that fits the drama perfectly. Justice itself is not always gentle. Ning Li delivers one of the finest performances in the series. Every expression carries years of accumulated resentment, grief, regret, and quiet fury. Even with relatively limited emphasis and focus on his character, Song Chen left an enormous emotional impact on me. I sympathized with him, cried for him, and admired how steadfast he remained despite everything life had taken from him.

As the investigation progresses, the story begins dedicating entire episodes to events from twenty years earlier, allowing the audience to witness both the present investigation and the origins of the tragedy side by side. Eventually, those flashbacks center on Lu Zhi, who became, without question, the most fascinating character in the drama for me.

Lu Zhi feels less like a villain and more like the product of his upbringing and consequence of adults who failed him. At first, he appears gentle, almost forgettable, like the type of character destined to become another victim. But little by little, something unsettling begins surfacing beneath that kindness. It becomes impossible to tell whether he genuinely wants to become a better person or whether goodness itself has simply become another mask for survival.

The most chilling moment comes when he explains why he chooses to hurt good people. Good people are less likely to retaliate. It presents one of the drama's most disturbing moral paradoxes. Do you target evil people and invite violent revenge, or prey upon kind people because their kindness makes them vulnerable? Virtue, ironically, becomes its own weakness.

Yet the drama never allows Lu Zhi to become a one dimensional monster. His cruelty exists alongside fear, hesitation, and genuine inner conflict. There are moments where he quietly wonders why doing good feels so difficult while evil comes so naturally. Even after everything he does, I still find myself asking whether he was truly good or bad. Looking only at the outcome makes the answer seem obvious. Looking deeper makes it surprisingly difficult. His fear whenever he is cornered reminds us that beneath all the darkness still exists a frightened human being trying to survive.

Yu Yao's performance deserves a standing ovation. Every tiny shift in expression feels deliberate. Every glance, every hesitation, every restrained emotion adds another layer to Lu Zhi's character. His elegant manner of speaking and composed posture create a striking contrast with the chaos inside his mind. Combined with Wang Zheng's direction and exceptional character writing, Lu Zhi becomes one of the most memorable characters I have encountered in recent years. Exploring morality, desire, fear, ideals, and conscience through a single character is no easy task, yet Ripe Town does it with remarkable precision.

Despite its slow pacing, the story never feels dull. Every scene contributes to the larger mystery, making it easy to become absorbed in the investigation. The clues are carefully planted, rewarding viewers who pay attention to small details. It genuinely feels as though you're investigating alongside San Geng and his companions. There is even a subtle layer of dark humor woven naturally into the dialogue, preventing the atmosphere from becoming overwhelmingly bleak.

The visual presentation surprised me just as much as the writing. Director Wang Zheng reportedly drew inspiration from Wu Guanzhong's Jiangnan paintings, and that influence is visible throughout the drama. The compositions emphasize layers, depth, and spatial balance, transforming nearly every frame into something resembling an ink painting. Doors, windows, curtains, screens, and veils are used to create visual penetration, allowing interior and exterior spaces to flow seamlessly into one another. Instead of relying on grand spectacle, the drama embraces stillness. Long, quiet streets stretch across the screen while conspiracies quietly bloom beneath the surface. It is a perfect example of a Latin phrase, which means “the art of concealing art.” The directing appears effortless precisely because every artistic choice is so carefully considered.

The sound design deserves equal praise. Rather than constantly filling scenes with music, Ripe Town uses its original soundtrack sparingly, reserving it primarily for the opening and ending themes. Yet those tracks linger long after each episode ends. During most scenes, subtle sound effects take center stage, quietly reinforcing the tension and atmosphere without drawing attention to themselves. The restraint makes every emotional moment feel even more effective.

The finale delivers one revelation after another with remarkable composure. It never resorts to sensational twists simply for shock value. Instead, every revelation feels earned, and the ending remains grounded in the reality the drama has carefully established from the very beginning. Each major character receives meaningful growth. San Geng becomes more flexible in his methods while continuing to pursue justice. Song Chen's conclusion also feels unexpectedly merciful, offering him perhaps the only path that could finally free him from the resentment he had carried for years. Fittingly, he remains a judge until the very end, both in title and in spirit.

Ripe Town earns its title in more ways than one. Beneath its peaceful streets lies a town that has ripened not into prosperity, but into something rotten. Old grievances have fermented into vengeance, justice has become tangled with compromise, and morality has quietly spoiled with time.

This is a drama I thoroughly enjoyed for its tightly constructed mystery, atmospheric suspense, morally complex characters, breathtaking visuals, restrained sound design, and thoughtful exploration of justice and human nature. It does not simply ask who the murderer is. It asks what kind of world creates murderers in the first place. Long after the mystery was solved, it was the characters and their impossible moral dilemmas that continued haunting my thoughts. Ripe Town has easily become one of the finest Chinese mystery dramas I have watched, and one of the strongest entries in the genre as a whole.

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a surprising office rom-com that won me over

The first episode was pretty boring—I almost dropped it right there. But luckily, I stuck with it, and it got much better. I ended up really enjoying this drama.

It's nothing groundbreaking, but it's perfect if you want something light and relaxing to unwind with. I was genuinely hooked. The story follows Joo In-ah (Shin Hye-sun), the head of the audit department at Haemu Group, and Noh Ki-jun (Gong Myung), a star auditor who gets demoted to handling workplace misconduct. I loved their enemies-to-lovers journey and how their team dynamics played out.

The acting is really good, and Shin Hye-sun is amazing as always. That said, I don't think Kim Jae-wook's character suited him—I just didn't like his role.

Overall, it's a nice and easy watch that will keep you entertained. Nothing more, nothing less.

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L’intrattenimento di qualità e senza esclusione di colpi

Ci sono tre immagini che mi hanno indotta alla visione di questo drama: la prima è stata una mera associazione col titolo, che non poteva non portarmi alla mente la splendida serie coreana “Chief KIM” – conosciuta anche come “Good MANAGER” – e che mi capita talvolta di rivedere con piacere; la seconda è stata l’immagine di So Ji Sub, attore che apprezzo molto e del quale ho seguito moltissimi lavori; la terza è il volto di un altro grande attore, Liam Neeson, protagonista del film statunitense “Io vi troverò” di vent’anni fa, riportatomi istantaneamente alla mente dal titolo di una recensione – grazie Jennifer P. - già che il concept di base è praticamente lo stesso.

Che dire, una serie che si vede tutto d’un fiato. Dieci episodi – qui i spesso rimpianti sedici del vecchio classico format sarebbero stati decisamente troppi – che filano via lisci in un batter d’occhio.

LA TRAMA – Kim Do Hyeon è un impiegato di banca tranquillo e anonimo, nonché padre dell’adolescente Min Ji, figlia che ha cresciuto da solo dopo la morte della moglie durante il parto. Vive una vita semplice e monotona, con un atteggiamento passivo-remissivo che gli costa l’assoluta mancanza di stima da parte della figlia. Poi un giorno Min Ji viene rapita, e tutto cambia improvvisamente. Il mite quarantenne torna ad essere ciò che è stato per buona parte della sua vita: il più abile e letale agente speciale nordcoreano, passato poi nei servizi segreti sudcoreani e infine sparito nell’anonimato per fuggire dal pesante passato e proteggere la famiglia con la quale desiderava trascorrere il resto della vita.
A livello di scrittura c’è un’evidente discrepanza tra arco narrativo e durata: c’è un primo filone, probabilmente il migliore e il più completo, che si risolve a suo modo verso il settimo episodio. Il drama però conta dieci puntate, da lì la necessità di concatenare un altro sviluppo, che in parte ripercorre percorsi già battuti (vedi il tema del rapimento dei figli piuttosto che il conflitto con Ju Kang Chan). Se da una parte si può capire la necessità di inserire una parte a tema sicurezza/politica agli alti livelli, dall’altra sembra un po’ un capitolo a sé stante, che sarebbe stato meglio inglobare meglio nella storia, invece di procedere con un effetto “a tappe”.
Il finale non mi ha convinta del tutto. La storia apre con un caso di bullismo tra due adolescenti, poi si sposta su piani ben più importanti (sicurezza nazionale, spionaggio, tensioni ed equilibri tra Paesi) e trova conclusione in una cornice che è ancora quella leggera iniziale (il saluto all’ex compagno di scuola, i discorsi sul rendimento scolastico, ecc.). Si comprende l’intenzione di mostrare finalmente la vita ordinaria tanto desiderata, ma come conclusione ha un sapore un po’ riduttivo. Si salva l’ultimissima scena, che mi ha ricordato – nel concetto - l’epilogo di un altro kdrama (Tale of the Nine-Tailed).

PERSONAGGI – Kim Do Hyeon è una figura perfettamente riuscita, il complesso e intricato risultato del suo percorso di vita, dalla difficile infanzia in orfanotrofio all’ancor più terrificante addestramento nell’esercito nordcoreano, fino alla sofferta scelta di passare dalla parte del “nemico”, e poi ancora quello scorcio effimero di una vita famigliare felice, che si dissolve con la morte prematura della moglie e si traduce nel devoto ma difficile compito di allevare da solo una figlia, per tornare infine a rivivere ciò che era stato fin da ragazzino, stavolta con il mero obiettivo di garantire la sicurezza di Min Ji.
Kim Min Ji incarna credibilmente la classica adolescente, un tempo molto legata al padre ma ora sempre più alla ricerca dei suoi spazi e dei suoi coetanei, tanto da tenere per sé anche gli episodi di bullismo che subisce a scuola, convinta che la distanza di pensiero tra lei e il “vecchio” padre sia come comunicare in due lingue diverse, sottolineando così un classico dell’approccio tipico adolescenziale, ovvero la convinzione – anche a priori – che il genitore non possa capire. A questo tratto comune si aggiunge, nel suo caso, anche la totale mancanza di stima nei confronti del padre, ai suoi occhi uomo debole e senza spina dorsale.
Se il rapporto padre-figlia caratterizza i momenti di svolta importanti, il cuore pulsante del drama è il trio dato da Kim e i gli altri due ex agenti sudcoreani. Min Ji segna due radicali cambi di vita per Kim: il primo con la sua nascita, dove rende immediato e necessario per lui concretizzare il desiderio di lasciarsi il passato di spia alle spalle e intraprendere una vita tranquilla e ordinaria; il secondo è innescato dal suo rapimento, che toglie Kim dall’esistenza placida e tranquilla per tornare a vestire i panni dell’implacabile agente speciale.
Il drama conta svariati momenti di cruda violenza, ma mai fine a sé stessa bensì più strumento di una protezione disperata e comunque ampiamente bilanciata dalla tenerezza di alcuni momenti padre-figlia e stemperata dai passaggi di puro divertimento promossi dai due ex agenti amici di Kim: Seong Han Su, campione di takewondo e di uscite di ironia stralunata, vestito tassativamente con un dobok immacolato che completa – a un certo punto – con un inquietante gilet trapuntato rosso a fiorellini, e Park Jin Cheol, ex marine in stile “macchina da guerra” e un Mr. "Rock and Roll” eccentrico come pochi. Ho apprezzato come tra i flashback dedicati al passato di Kim sia stato dato spazio al suo primo incontro con i due e al legame sempre più saldo che è andato formandosi. Un’amicizia non sbandierata ma solida, di quelle che non ti lasciano da solo nel momento del bisogno, costi quel che costi.
Tra i due compari, quello più esilarante ma anche più approfondito è di sicuro Park Jin Cheol: tuta mimetica che si apre su un’imbarazzante maglietta con foto della figlia racchiusa in un cuore, risata pazza di chi non teme nulla e pregusta i combattimenti che affronta a suon di testate con spirito quasi divertito, salvo poi scattare sull’attenti – in tutti i sensi – di fronte alla moglie. I suoi battibecchi con Seong Han Su sono a dir poco spassosi, tra botta e risposta quasi infantili – dove anche la conta dei numeri progressivi diventa motivo di ripicca – fino a giocarsi i vari incarichi pericolosi con sasso-carta-forbice. Innumerevoli le uscite che fanno sorridere (“il protagonista deve farsi vedere”, “Devo andare a casa, viene quello del purificatore. Ho già spostato due volte, tre no”, "Sembri le tipe coi capelli lunghi dei film horror"... Potrei andare avanti all'infinito).
Un trio dunque singolare e carismatico, concreto nelle azioni e caratteristico nelle interazioni (da qui la memorabile riflessione di Nam, lo scagnozzo di Ju Kang Chan, mentre vola all’indietro fuori dal camion dopo il gancio ben piazzato di Jin Cheol: “Chi diavolo sono questi quarantenni con gli occhiali?!?”)

CAST – So Ji Sub domina la scena con una performance di altissimo livello. La sua è una recitazione convincente e calibrata, studiata in ogni singolo cipiglio e in quegli sguardi – soprattutto nella parte iniziale - che sanno di rabbia trattenuta a stento grazie a un notevole autocontrollo. A seconda del contesto vi si legge perfettamente l’amore e la preoccupazione per Min Ji, la stanchezza di un uomo che ha già visto troppo, la precisione inesorabile di quando si prepara a combattere. Con la sua serietà glaciale bilancia perfettamente le interpretazioni più vivaci dei compagni di squadra. Un’espressività raffinata e ricca, la sua, mai forzata, mai eccessiva, mai fuori luogo. Davvero un grande attore.
A fargli da spalla altri due bravissimi attori quali Choi Dae Hoon e soprattutto Yoon Gyung Ho. Menzione d’onore anche per Joo Sang Wok che in qualità di villain veste perfettamente i panni del ricco e potente uomo d’affari che si crede al di sopra di tutto e di tutti. I personaggi secondari offrono complessivamente una buona prova a supporto dei protagonisti.

ASPETTI TECNICI - Il drama è certamente confezionato con cura, la regia di Lee Yong Seok mostra capacità e consapevolezza nella trasposizione del weebtoon al quale è ispirato, traducendo con enfasi i momenti più incisivi e seguendo i combattimenti da una distanza davvero ridotta. In linea con l’idea dell’action-thriller le coreografie sono brutali e di forte impatto fisico, basate sul corpo a corpo che distrugge ambienti e trasforma oggetti quotidiani in armi improvvisate. In questo senso, il montaggio è indubbiamente valido: le sequenze di combattimento sono tagliate con un ritmo serrato ma mai frenetico, permettendo allo spettatore di seguire ogni movimento senza perdersi nel caos della lotta.
La fotografia conferisce significato ai contrasti cromatici: nelle sequenze ambientate nel presente in Corea del Sud predominano le tonalità calde mentre i flashback nordcoreani sono caratterizzati da palette di blu freddi e grigi acciaio, perfetti nel richiamare la violenza e l'alienazione del passato del protagonista. Anche la scenografia ha fatto un buon lavoro, contribuendo nel “raccontare” i personaggi: l'appartamento di Kim è volutamente anonimo, quasi spoglio, perfettamente in linea con un uomo che ha smesso di vivere per limitarsi a sopravvivere; al contrario, gli ambienti dei cattivi sono sovraccarichi di simbolismi industriali dall’aspetto metallico (quasi delle gabbie in cui si rintanano, ma che alla lunga imprigionano anche i loro stessi piani). La colonna sonora alterna timbri sintetizzati durante le scene d'azione a pianoforti nei momenti di intimità padre-figlia.

PRO E CONTRO: Un aspetto che ho molto apprezzato è che il drama va oltre il classico revenge-thriller: la vendetta, qui, c’entra davvero poco. La “caccia” ai cattivi non è promossa dal desiderio di far pagare loro i torti subiti, ma semplicemente dalla paura di perdere i propri cari e dalla disperata necessità di tutelare l’unica famiglia rimasta. Tra i limiti, invece, l’inevitabile mancanza di realismo: i combattimenti sono spettacolari ma davvero poco conformi alla realtà. I tre quarantenni non sono per nulla arrugginiti, sconfiggono da soli intere squadre addestrate e armate e si riprendono da colpi in testa e ferite profonde con una velocità a dir poco incredibile. Ci si lamenta del tono di voce di Jin Cheol, eppure seduti al tavolo del ristorante disquisiscono tranquillamente di operazioni segrete e altre informazioni altamente riservate. Sono difetti comunque ammissibili se si considera che derivano da una scelta voluta dell’opera, volta ad affascinare lo spettatore più che a farlo “credere”.

IN CONCLUSIONE – Un drama con le idee chiare, che vuole essere un prodotto commerciale di alta qualità dedito ad un puro, spettacolare ed efficace intrattenimento. Lo dico nel senso più positivo possibile dei termini: non tutti i drama o i film devono essere opere rivoluzionarie o trasporre in modo geniale chissà quale significato della vita. L’importante è avere un obiettivo ben definito. E questo drama non solo sa cosa vuole essere ma lo fa con evidente competenza. Il risultato è una serie che funziona alla grande, incentrata su una storia che sa emozionare e intrattenere con pari intensità, dove l’elemento emotivo è sempre presente e mai sacrificato in nome dell’azione, e viceversa. Un ottimo risultato e un titolo che mi sento di consigliare su larga scala.

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It is clear that the husband and wife should talk.

A Bonafide Killer is a stylish drama with lots of beat music and soft melodies. Great OST.

We get to explore the lives of the husband who is an Investigative Reporter and his housewife. The housewife is just going back to work after a three year lay-off, used to take care of her very young child, an adorable cutie. The husband, tries to hide the nature of “his job” as an Investigative Reporter, thinking that it might worry his “delicate” wife. He feels that she could not handle his job excitement level. Slowly but surely, the drama reveals to the audience the true nature of the job his wife has. And you get the sense that the husband is over worrying about the surprise level that his wife can handle.

Cautionary Note: A Bona Fide Killer is about a sharpshooter/Sniper, an accurate one.

Side Bar: I used to work with a person who was a skilled marksman. He had the ability to accurately hit a target 1,500 meters away (about 1.6 miles). Okay! If there were 100 people in front of you and let them walk by, you would never ever pick him as the marksman. No, he was not ex-Military. This story for A Bona Fide Killer is very believable.

Cast: Actress Kong Hyo Jin, Actor Actor, Jung Jun Won, and Actor Lee Sang Yi

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