Reviews

Off-the-Charts Chemistry, Unmatched Yearning, and Period Drama Flaws

The Edge of Horizon delivers an emotionally charged period drama that ultimately relies on the mesmerizing chemistry and standout acting of its leads to carry it through a rocky second half. Inn Jakkrasin and Ongsa Theethuch share undeniable chemistry as Phob and Prince Thin, with Ongsa delivering a masterclass in portraying raw heartache, duty-bound sorrow, and gut-wrenching yearning. The initial episodes set a fantastic hook, effortlessly drawing viewers into a high-stakes forbidden romance where class divides and the historical era's lack of LGBTQ+ acceptance make their secretive moments feel electric. Rather than relying on typical drama tropes, the script smartly gives Thin a genuinely conflicted pull toward pleasing his father and upholding his royal image, making his internal struggle feel grounded and heartbreaking. However, the series stumbles on a few glaring flaws: romantic moments are routinely interrupted in ways that feel repetitive and unrealistic, while the middle stretch bogs down in corporate-style power struggles that quickly lose momentum compared to the central love story. Additionally, Prince Vasin's unapologetic, extreme verbal cruelty toward Chat feels needlessly harsh and jarring. Despite a rushed finale that introduces unnecessary complications and a middle act that drags, Ongsa's stellar emotional depth, Pond's unhinged performance as Chat, and the lead couple's soaring romance make it a journey worth taking.

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Not spooky, and romance is eh.

So starting off with the title, when I heard it was called “Spooky in Love” I was expecting Halloween vibes but it wasn’t released near Halloween so that should’ve given a hint but anyways not spooky. There was ghost aspects but I feel like that starts off strong and then her being able to see ghosts just disappears and it follows the adopted brother and brother plot. Now, there were episodes that I was intrigued but overall it was just eh. I feel like it didn’t really feel like a romance and if it was gonna be like that it might as well have went full on the plot and ghosts. Also, what is up with the characters just getting hit by cars like both the female and male lead got ran over. I guess it was their way of creating suspense but anyways it was just eh.

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Idk how to feel about this

it's a story that is in fact bitter but for me I didn't understand most of the main leads actions and I really couldn't justify the stupid shit they were doing to each other...first couple of eps were meeh it really got better towards the end
the story was in my opinion good but it was excuted in a really bad way and the ending was the cherry on top bc wtf was that ending.... some times I would feel like dang they are doing some crazy shit to each other and they didn't really show love for one another but tell me why this is the messiest most toxic love story I've seen in a fat minute.

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Great chemistry, yet leaves a lot to be desired

This is a great watch for the BL chemistry of the 2 leads. Kim Yoon-sik and Park Si-woo's scenes together were so, so good here. Screen was on fire 🔥

In terms of BL coupling I couldn't praise it enough. Kim Yoon-sik and Park Si-woo were a wonderful together. They looked really good together onscreen. I loved that Kim Yunsik was able to pull off being the dominant/top partner who was also a tsundere. He was cold and heartless, yet also the type to only be caring towards the one he cares about. On the other hand Park Si-woo being this calm and collected guy perfectly fit the bill for Lee Chaeha. Visually and physically I also loved their size difference - Park Si-woo looked so small against Kim Yoon-sik, it made even their non-intimate scenes a treat to watch (size differences always a guilty pleasure 🤌)

Yet there's still disappointment with how this was executed in terms of the plot and overall story. The pace was just bad. This should have been a full 1 hour long, 12 episode drama in my opinion. There was too many holes, gaps and questions in the plot.

To begin with the plot was simply boring. It focused on Taeson and Chaeha's work setting, but it felt like it had nothing to do with them directly at all until episodes 7-8. The episodes were so short yet felt like it was becoming a chore to watch. I stuck it out because I knew I wanted to watch simply for the intense scenes between the main leads.

When the main plot does kick in, it also becomes very predictable. For example it was easy to figure out that their co-worker (Mr Song) was the 'secret son' around Episode 7, so the grand build up till the climax in Episode 10 didn't feel all that great IMO. There was no suspense or high stakes that kept you on the edge of the seat.

Even the main point of the drama, the relationship between the main leads, didn't feel fleshed out enough to leave any lasting impact. Infact it left me with so many questions:
- Taeson supposedly hated Chaeha for so long, yet we are supposed to believe he quickly falls for Chaeha within the first 3 or 4 short episodes? No build up at all.
- Taeson clearly said he wanted to keep a boundary of being sex partners, but then suddenly becomes jealous and possessive when Chaeha spends time with someone else? There's no explanation for why Taeson suddenly wants to be his romantic partner too.
- How does Chaeha ignore the idea of only being a sexual partner? I feel this was not brought up at all when it should have. Chaeha should have brought it up when Taeson was asking him for a date lol.
- Why and how does Chaeha get over Taeson lying to him about his identity? The big reveal happens at the end of Episode 8, yet it was all fine between them towards the end of Episode 9. A single big incident like Chaeha almost being strangled isn't enough to fix everything.
- Lastly, WHY do Taeson and Chaeha fall for each other? Besides having the great hots for one another, WHAT are the reasons they like each other? We don't know why Taeson likes Chaeha, and I certainly never got why Chaeha liked Taeson when the latter kept reminding him every 10 minutes about being the son of a murderer.

It felt like I was watching a short vertical drama, which this was probably close to anyway in terms of illogical plot and length. There's no development in terms of plot, character arcs and motivations, or even the love story.

In the end, we also only get a single romantic scene between them on the beach in front of a visually lovely sunset. But it's not enough. If it was a longer drama we could have seen them being in love and dating. It doesn't have any arc where it gives you more of them being together, hence feels fleeting and non-impactful. There is still 1 or 2 lovely lines and scenes between them until then, my favorite was at the end of Episode 9, when Taeson apologises and Chaeha says "Instead of being happy alone, I would rather be miserable with you." ❤️ This is the kind of thing we needed more of. More angst, more romance, more love..... And more visually appealing and heart-eyed Kim Yoon-sik if you ask me 😍. Instead I think it's better to watch for their intense intimate scenes in context of a BL.

Overall a 6/10. This is a good rating considering the leads chemistry was by far the best part.

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The long, long road to a little splendor

First of all, BIG applause for the production. This drama is such a visual feast. I heard they went on-site instead of relying heavily on CGI, and honestly, you can SEE it. The landscapes, camera work, directing, costumes, and overall cinematography are gorgeous. And I’m also genuinely happy seeing how much Deng Enxi and Ding Yuxi have improved. Their acting, chemistry, and especially their microexpressions are SO much better than their previous works. What a good pairing. But after finishing all 36 episodes, I do have one question: who decided to call this "The Road to Splendor"? Because the actual splendor part lasted like 15 minutes in the final episode??? At this point, it should be "The Long, Long Road to a Little Splendor" because DAMN, that road was LONG.

What I love-hate most about this drama is how they really struggle. They literally start from scratch—no wealth, no powerful family, no position, no connections, no safety net. They basically have nothing except each other and their brains. In other dramas, the leads usually have something to fall back on, but here, if Zhao Ling and Tingyun fall, nobody is necessarily going to catch them. That's why every step they take feels like walking on thin ice, especially once they enter the capital and get tangled in court politics. One wrong move could cost them their lives or the people they love. And I LOVE how their relationship grows through all of this. Zhao Ling never asks Tingyun to lower her standards; instead, he works his way up because he wants to become someone worthy of giving her the life she deserves. Meanwhile, Tingyun is his anchor and compass, helping him navigate a world he couldn't survive alone. They don't make each other smaller; they make each other stronger. The Ganglin arc remains my favorite because they were poor and struggling, but at least they actually got to live and enjoy their little life together. Then they moved to the capital and suddenly every meeting became strategy, politics, enemies, and another potential disaster.

This drama also gave me a really interesting perspective on power and reality. Zhao Ling spent so much of his life climbing the ranks because he wanted the power to protect his people and create a better life, only to eventually find himself compromising some of the beliefs he once held. The irony of gaining enough power to do what you want, only to become part of the system that forces you to do things you don't want. And that's why I actually understood his decision to leave the capital in the end. I LOVED that they brought back Jiao Wei Jiu, even if only for a moment, because seeing Zhao Ling's old salt-smuggler/bandit side again felt like a little reminder of who he was before all the titles and court politics. And then he chooses to return to Ganlin and become a regional commander. Honestly? BEST decision. The emperor may genuinely value him, but sometimes that man was just too much. Zhao Ling and Tingyun never wanted endless power in the first place. He wanted to give her a good life, and she wanted them to live peacefully together. They could never truly have that in the capital. Maybe Ganlin isn't as prestigious, but they finally get peace, family, and each other. And after everything they've been through, that feels much more like splendor to me.

And can we PLEASE appreciate the women in this drama? The writers really understood the assignment. I kept thinking about the saying “behind every successful man is a great woman,” but honestly, these women weren't just behind their husbands—they were beside them, guiding them, strategizing with them, and sometimes thinking ten steps ahead. Fu Tingyun especially isn't some pretty wife sitting at home waiting for her husband. She's involved in politics, court maneuvering, and danger, and she becomes Zhao Ling's anchor and brain when he needs her. The women here prove they aren't accessories to men's stories; they can be players in the game too. Of course, the villains also gave me plenty of reasons to lose my mind. Yu Jingxiu will forever be the man who didn't bother knowing Tingyun properly, judged her based on his assumptions, and only realized how extraordinary she was after it was already too late. SIR, PLEASE. Madam Zhou also tested my patience with the grudge she held against Tingyun, especially when she basically wanted Tingyun to suffer simply because of her own jealousy and pain. And just when I thought we were done cursing people, another villain would enter the chat.

One thing that did disappoint me was Grand Secretary Yu's ending. After everything, he just dies—accidentally at his own son's hands, too. It felt a little abrupt for someone who had such a huge influence. And then there’s Madam Yu, whose ending was also just… sad. She was genuinely such a smart and capable woman, and honestly, she was the one behind so many of Grand Secretary Yu's schemes. She understood the situation, knew how to manipulate people, and was often the real brain behind everything. But she was also ruthless, especially when she was willing to sacrifice her own son for the sake of her plans. So while I pity Yu Jingxiu for everything he had to carry and the life he never got to choose, I still can't feel sorry for him because of everything he did before. He may have been shaped by his parents and their expectations, but he was still responsible for his own choices. In the end, even the Yu family survives, and almost everyone gets their own version of a happy ending—even the villains. And maybe that's another thing I appreciate: it doesn't insist that everyone gets exactly what they deserve; life simply moves on. Overall, I really loved this drama. The story is well written, the acting is solid, and the cinematography, costumes, camera work, and OST all come together beautifully. It has frustrating moments, obviously—these people suffered enough for THREE lifetimes —but that's also why the ending feels earned. They started with nothing, fought for everything, climbed all the way to the capital, and eventually realized that what they really wanted wasn't the capital at all. They just wanted each other, peace, and a little happiness in Ganlin. After that long, long, LONG road to splendor, I think they finally found it.

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If you loved BLOSSOM and THE DOUBLE, you will definitely love this one!

For my many years of watching c-dramas, this is actually my first time writing a review, so please bear with me. I started watching this drama because of DYX, plus the plot seemed interesting, and it really was! The first episode was already captivating, and I must say... unique. It immediately made me curious about where the story was going and what kind of journey these characters would take.

The character of Fu Tingyun immediately captivated me, and Deng Enxi's portrayal is perfect! I initially thought she was just a simple, innocent, and fragile character, but I was amazed by how much her character grew as the plot progressed. She isn't the kind of female lead you can understand completely after just a few episodes. There's so much more to her character as the story unfolds, and I really enjoyed discovering those different sides of her.

TRTS made me feel as if I were watching my favorite historical c-dramas (Blossom & The Double) for the first time again. It feels nostalgic and, at the same time, refreshing. There were moments that gave me the same excitement I felt while watching those two dramas... the kind where you finish an episode and immediately want to know what happens next. It's been a while since a drama made me feel this invested in every little development.

Okay, so let me talk about DYX's character, Zhao Ling. Unlike the male leads in Blossom and The Double, who both came from noble families, Zhao Ling is an orphan who came from a humble background, at the very bottom of the hierarchy. He's a simple man who smuggles salt to provide for his brothers. And that's what makes his character so interesting to me. He's not someone who starts with power, status, or an influential family behind him. He starts with almost nothing, yet there's so much more to him than what meets the eye.

One of the most beautiful yet heart-wrenching scenes that I loved (and is probably my favorite) is when Zhao Ling chose to save Fu Tingyun despite what she had done to him. That scene genuinely stayed with me. For me, that was the turning point of everything, and it was what fueled me to keep watching the next episodes. I became so eager to see how their lives would change after that event and, more importantly, how their relationship would develop from there.

I really enjoyed watching how their relationship gradually developed because it wasn't something that felt rushed. There are so many circumstances that put them against each other, and yet there are also moments that make you wonder how these two people will eventually find their way to each other. Their journey is definitely one of the things that kept me hooked.

Also, my stress levels while watching this drama were as high as what I experienced watching The Double! Gosh, the villains go around plotting schemes in almost every episode! There were so many moments when I was just sitting there thinking, “PLEASE, CAN THESE PEOPLE JUST HAVE ONE PEACEFUL DAY?” 😭 But I must say, the villains are sooooo well-written. They're not just there to create unnecessary conflict. Their actions actually push the story forward and make the stakes feel much higher.

And that's probably one of the things I appreciate most about TRTS: it knows how to keep you invested. Whether it's the characters, the political schemes, the relationships, or the constant twists, there's always something that makes you want to watch just one more episode. And yes, DYX was the reason I started watching... but the story is what made me stay. 🥹

I LOVE MY FU TINGYUN AND ZHAO LING SO MUCH! I ALSO LOVE THE GANLIN PEOPLE <3

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Stay focus on the episodes! Especially starting on 6 or 7.

Start well but a bit boring in some episodes.
From ep 1, me being an introvert, I feel myself into it like staying home, allergy to people all that. So I invest my time in that drama.
Stealing someone identity and their work, that revenge getting same face was just wow.
I feel sorry for yumin and his girlfriend, a specious guy just like that destroy 2 lifes.
Noja was a good guy helping and getting a peaceful ending.
Just to tell you who going to watch this, NO this is not a supernatural genre lol, at ep 2 near that and that says the rat eat your nails and can be like a human being like you, in my mind yeah that a paranormal genre lol. And in final - No !
The ending, "this isn't the end" as yumin said, Every lies will somehow be revealed. And truth will be out.
So we finally got a villain as ml lol. Just kidding. But he too has difficult stories from his side.
It's a bit contradictory, like the uncle came to the funeral, so why he hasn't not tell him he has a brother! How the brother got lost, and taken to a orphanage OR their parents put him in the orphanage cause he was a bad kid like we saw in the park he hurt the baby (ML) his little brother.

I won't run my cells into this, but having 10 episodes of this drama, it is kind of too much, 8 enough like how they only give wonderful drama only few episodes lol.
But was a nice drama, you could feel a bit lost throughout the episodes or brain is not braining, hope you got your own conclusion and the moral of the story.
Anyone remember if he (detective) got the chance to light his cigarette lol.

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"Be Melodramatic" -- Meandering, But Moving At Times

The first half of Be Melodramatic can feel unhurried to a fault, which made the back half all the more satisfying. From episode 9 onward, the series gains emotional momentum while retaining its dry, self-aware sense of humor, allowing its characters to reach genuine turning points.

Most of the show’s major relationships come to a boil, most notably Jin-joo and Beom-soo’s. Jin-joo spends much of the series hesitant to commit, weighed down by regrets from her previous relationship. I appreciated how the show frames her eventual decision to embrace Beom-soo not as a grand romantic revelation, but as a quiet moment of clarity. A dinner date with her ex at a fancy restaurant (one he can barely afford) is meant to win her back through spectacle. Instead, it backfires, making clear how little such gestures matter to her now and confirming that her feelings lie with Beom-soo.

While others move toward romance, Eun-jung continues to process the death of her fiancé. In the second half of the series, she becomes more committed to confronting her grief head-on. As the visions of her late partner grow more persistent, she begins therapy and slowly works through the pain she’s been avoiding. By the show’s end, she’s in a better place, though notably not “healed” in any tidy sense. Her storyline is easily the saddest and most affecting of the series’ latter half, and the show deserves credit for allowing grief to remain unresolved rather than conveniently overcome.

Although the back half leans more heavily into drama, episode 13 stands out as a deliberate tonal detour. While ongoing storylines continue in the background, the episode largely revolves around a fart-related misunderstanding. The writers commit fully to the bit, mining bodily humor for laughs. This includes a sequence where Jin-joo asks her mother to fart in front of her husband to test his reaction, followed by a montage of discreet, situationally inappropriate gas. Against all odds, the episode manages to be both juvenile and strangely heartwarming, capturing the show’s knack for finding intimacy in absurdity.

My main complaint with the second half lies in the show’s overall form. While the production of Jin-joo’s drama serves as a narrative thread connecting the characters, it remains secondary to their interpersonal dynamics. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this, but it occasionally leaves the series feeling directionless. This is most noticeable in the finale, which I found mildly disappointing. Some emotional payoffs land well, but I couldn’t help wishing the show leaned more heavily into depicting the drama’s production itself. Watching these distinct personalities collide on a working set — rather than circling around it — might have provided a stronger sense of narrative cohesion.

Still, these criticisms don’t outweigh the show’s strengths. Be Melodramatic is an enjoyable, thoughtful comedy-drama with memorable lead characters and a mature approach to love, loss, and creative ambition.

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"Goblin" -- Melancholy, Touching, Funny

"Goblin" is an often funny show, which is something of a miracle given the dramatic backstory that informs it. A centuries-old immortal cursed to wander the earth until his bride can pull a sword from his chest isn't exactly light fare, but the series finds humor in the everyday absurdities of its supernatural premise.

What makes the show work are the charming character interactions. The bickering roommate dynamic between the Goblin and the Grim Reaper is delightful. The playful push and pull between the Goblin and his bride crackles with warmth. Even supporting characters like the restaurant owner add texture to the world. These relationships are the show's strongest asset, and the writers clearly know it.

The more relaxed approach to moving the plot forward, however, may be tough for some viewers. Extended episode runtimes only amplify this issue. There are stretches, particularly in the middle of the series, when it feels like little happens. The show lingers in moments of domestic calm or comedic banter when the narrative momentum could use a push forward.

A bigger issue I have with the show is the fuzziness of its magic system. The use of reincarnation can feel a little arbitrary at times. Characters return when the story needs them to, but the rules governing who gets reincarnated and why are unclear at times. This also flows into who retains their memories, as well as which memories they retain.

That said, I genuinely like the twists in the last five or six episodes. The revelations change the dynamic of the character relations in meaningful ways, adding weight to interactions that once felt purely comedic or romantic. The more dramatic second half often pays off the investment viewers made in the characters during the first half. Watching these relationships deepen and strain under the pressure of destiny is rewarding. I particularly enjoyed the darkness of the last episode, even if the ending is controversial for some viewers.

Despite its narrative unevenness, "Goblin" remains an emotionally impactful show, full of humor, heart, and pathos. If you can tolerate a slower pace and some hand-waving around the mythology, there's a lot to enjoy here. The show succeeds on the strength of its characters and their relationships, and that's ultimately what lingers after the credits roll.

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"Beyond Evil" -- A Methodical, Tense, Slow-Burn Cop Thriller

Beyond Evil starts by balancing broad, small-town comedy against genuinely unnerving horror. That mix feels uneven at first, but it does real character work. Dong-sik's played-for-laughs arrest of a group of gamblers still tells you what you need to know about him: relaxed and affable on the surface, something darker underneath. That comic register mostly evaporates as the show goes on. By episode 7 or so, the show has committed fully to its thriller identity, and it's better for it.

What makes the early patience worth it is Dong-sik and Joo-won, in roughly equal measure. Dong-sik is a suspect in a twenty-year-old murder. He's visibly hiding something and secretly holding onto case files in his basement. Joo-won arrives as his opposite, a rigid rule-follower whose faith in the system starts cracking almost immediately once he's forced to work alongside him. Their uneasy dynamic becomes the show's real center of gravity long before the plot mechanics justify it. The slow burn works because both men are consistently interesting even when individual scenes don't yet explain themselves.

The show's larger idea is that a single murder investigation gradually exposes an entire town's complicity. The police station, the municipal government, and the local construction company are all implicated. This is the show's strongest structural choice. It reframes what looks like a whodunit into something closer to an indictment of institutional rot, and that reframing is handled with real control rather than being announced outright.

Episode 7 is a strong candidate for the show's emotional peak. It pairs a devastating flashback with a cathartic capture. But it's not an uncontested one. Episode 8 immediately complicates that catharsis by revealing the arrested man wasn't responsible for Dong-sik's sister's death. Episode 10's interrogation of Chief Nam, anchored by a genuinely mesmerizing performance from Shin Ha-kyeon, arguably hits harder emotionally, even if Nam's turn toward sympathetic figure is a smaller, more compressed transformation than the show sometimes plays it as. There isn't one clean high point so much as a sustained run of strong episodes across 7 through 10.

The back half is where the show's technique starts to work against it. The flashback-heavy structure, used sparingly and well earlier on, becomes a crutch. Exposition arrives almost exclusively through re-enactment rather than dialogue. By episodes 13 and 14, the rhythm turns genuinely repetitive: another manipulation from Joo-won, another flashback doing work a line of dialogue could handle more efficiently. It's a real flaw, not just a stylistic quirk, and it's the clearest sign of a show leaning on a device past the point where it's earning its keep. The episode 14 childhood flashback is the exception that proves the rule. It contextualizes Joo-won's relationship with his father in a way nothing else in the show manages.

The finale earns its ending anyway, and it earns it through both leads. Joo-won's transformation, from rigid rule-follower to someone willing to use a recorded conversation as a weapon against his own father, is just as significant as Dong-sik's long search for resolution. If anything, it's the more dramatic arc of the two, since it requires him to abandon the worldview he started the show with entirely. The decision to let everyone complicit face real consequences, then close on a calm, unhurried time jump, feels like a show that trusts its own patience rather than rushing to wrap things up.

Best Episodes:
1. Episode 7
2. Episode 16
3. Episode 8

Best Character: Lee Dong-sik

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Brief Writeup on "Stranger Season 1"

A polished if conventional police procedural from South Korea, examining corruption, power, and justice through its central mystery.

The great performances really anchor this one, especially the actor who plays Shi-mok Hwang. This is a demanding role: a man with limited emotional range. Even then, the actor shapes a hardboiled and cerebral presence with quiet power.

It’s slow to start, but it accumulates power with each episode until the tense and heartbreaking ending.

Favorite Episode: Episode 16 (The Finale)

Favorite Character: Yeo-jin

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"My Liberation Notes" -- Love as Mutual Worship

"My Liberation Notes" (2022), in essence, is a story about the difficult and thankless task of finding purpose and warmth in a world that resists those things. This task forces one to confront the gap between the life one has and the life one wishes they had. While navigating that difficult mental gap, this person will come to terms with numerous disappointments and triumphs, acquainting themselves with their strengths and their weaknesses in turn. The way one reacts to these outcomes and revelations gives their endeavor distinctive texture. The hard work of living is invested as much in navigating these feelings as it does in navigating the chasm between themselves and their aspirations.

Over the course of the show's 16 episodes, we see three siblings take on this task and change as individuals. These three are the Yeom siblings: Mi-jeong, Chang-hee, and Gi-jeong, all adults who live in their parent's home. They live lives that seem to meander as they travel from their home in fictional town Sanpo to Seoul to work jobs that are often taxing on their psyches. In the show, they liken their humble home to the "white" of the egg relative to the "yolk" that is Seoul, embodying through this metaphor how tangential their roots are to the locus of South Korean business and busyness that is Seoul. This show illustrates how these characters' lives are treated as peripheral to the larger ecosystem of Seoul, and thus the heart of Korean enterprise.

The show gets its title from the "Liberation Club" that Mi-jeong starts with two of her work colleagues, including Tae-hun, who will be important to Gi-jeong going forward. In establishing the club, the show also establishes the desire all these characters have to escape the monotony and aimlessness that seems to permeate their lives. It's always about the job, the commute, but never about themselves. The "Liberation Club" is as much an opportunity to reflect as it is a place to rebel against the emptiness of this culture. For the show, it serves as a recurring structural anchor that gives Mi-jeong a way to express her interiority without resorting to voiceover, and a communal forum through which the drama explores the idea of "liberation" itself, crucially without ever defining it.

The endeavor of these siblings is presented with realism and restraint, not unlike one of Ozu's later films like Tokyo Story (1953). As in Ozu, this series often depicts quieter moments in these characters' lives and deals just as much in what is said as in what is withheld. Where many Korean dramas tend toward overt expressiveness, the dialogue-heavy realism of this drama eschews that for something more akin to walking into an ordinary moment of these people's lives. This restraint allows the details of these people's lives to accumulate into a complete picture of the mundanity of their existence, and it is the drama's greatest ask of the viewer.

In the first six episodes this ask feels like a liability. The early episodes lack narrative inertia and feel more like a procession of conversations without a clear destination than any kind of story progression. Writer Park Hae-young takes her time showing each character's status quo: Mi-jeong's introversion and desire for liberation from her difficult contract work situation, Gi-jeong's dismissive attitude toward potential suitors, Chang-hee's contempt for his work at the supermarket, and Mr. Gu's crippling drinking habit. The drama is slowly accumulating details that will pay off in bigger narrative developments from episode 10 onward, though this only becomes legible in retrospect.

An illustrative example of the way the show builds context involves Tae-hun, a divorced dad scorned by Gi-jeong in the show's first episode. Gi-jeong, who is single and going on 40, talks disparagingly about divorced dads and regards them as damaged goods, in Tae-hun's presence, the man she will fall desperately in love with. Her desire for Tae-hun grows as the show continues, moving her past her former dismissiveness to something approaching genuine openness and even a growing desire to be accepted by Tae-hun's daughter and sister. This character development would not be as rich had the writer not taken her time to establish the depth of Gi-jeong's judgmental nature early.

If the early episodes establish the desperation of each character's situation, then the relationship between Mi-jeong and the man referred to as Gu is the key to the drama's architecture. Part of what makes this relationship so unique from what I've seen in Korean drama is the gentle way it unfurls and the way it resists the tropes of the romance genre. There's no meet-cute, he's an employee of her father. There's no declaration of love, just Mi-jeong begging him to "worship" her, something Gu appears to do reluctantly at first.

In fact, Ms. Park's greatest invention in this drama may be the framing of romantic love as an act of mutual worship. Worship requires devotion and attentiveness that the ambivalent and sometimes hostile world around them rarely allows. The grace Gu and Mi-jeong learn to show for each other as the series continues becomes a sanctuary and a source of liberation from the monotony and loneliness that surrounds them.

For someone as introverted as Mi-jeong in particular, this gives her the liberty to express sides of herself that wouldn't be accepted as readily in her work or family life. She becomes more talkative, which turns out to be a mixed blessing. At its worst, her newfound chattering grosses out Gu as she rambles at length about gruesome images of animal violence and dismemberment. At its best, she becomes a valuable contributor to the Liberation Club she founded. Her talkativeness also leads to a latent confidence and assertiveness that was absent before she began her "worship" of Gu.

For Gu, a gangster who hides in the country to avoid the recrimination of his former associates, the relationship provides a reservoir of warmth that complements the peaceful life he leads working for her father in Sanpo. His conversations with Mi-jeong bring out a warmer and more playful side to him not afforded elsewhere in his life, and their relationship provides something akin to liberation.

The three siblings are each navigating the same fundamental condition through different temperaments and circumstances.

Take Chang-hee, for instance. Much of the show is about his desire to obtain material wealth and the luxuries that come with it. However, as the series progresses, that desire dissipates as he comes to terms with his true gift: his empathy. This revelation is hard won. Before it comes, he struggles in vain to earn a promotion from his subordinate role at a grocery store chain to a more managerial role that would provide him the wealth he desires. He only seems to come to this realization in moments when he is required to care for others after their loved ones have passed.

Gi-jeong transforms from a dismissive, judgmental, and resentful person to accept that the man who would love her the most is the divorced dad Tae-hun, whom she scorned in the show's first episode. She walked through life with a strict set of requirements for her perfect "Prince Charming," but was routinely disappointed when no one met those lofty standards. Once she starts falling for Tae-hun, she becomes almost comically obsessed with courting him. In one of the show's most memorable scenes, she asks Tae-hun if he wants to pursue a relationship with her, only to get rejected and then get hit by a moped, which is revealed to be a tactic she concocted to gain his sympathy. She went from not wanting to even talk to a man like Tae-hun to becoming so desperate for his affection that she will take a moped injury for even a morsel of it. It's desperate, and a little off-putting, but it is a notable transformation.

The arc of the Yeom parents is present as well, though more static compared to the main cast. Before his wife's death, Je-ho would scold Chang-hee for wasting money and not being accomplished enough. After she dies and Chang-hee stays to care for him, Je-ho's perspective changes. I wished for a scene in which he would demonstrate more direct expression of his reverence for his deceased wife's support. Then again, the fact that it remains understated actually fits the show's architecture. It is, in the end, a drama that trusts implication over declaration.

This quality of implication over declaration is a consistent virtue of Park Hae-young's writing. This is the second drama I've seen from her, the first being My Mister (2018). Despite how universally beloved My Mister is, and how often it is preferred to My Liberation Notes, I felt that subplot bloat set in as its cast became increasingly massive and there was a need to fill considerably more air time per episode. The standard episode of My Mister ranged between 70 to 90 minutes, while My Liberation Notes tended toward 60 to 65 minutes (the 80-minute finale is the main exception). The climactic episodes of My Mister felt somewhat diffuse because the central plot with Park Dong-hoon and Lee Ji-an had to coexist with numerous subplots of varying quality. There is little such bloat in My Liberation Notes, which builds toward something poignant precisely because there is less to distract from the main storyline.

Seeing the way this show pulls together makes me wonder how I would feel returning to My Mister now. The major reframe would be in how I look at the subplots. Instead of experiencing them as an albatross around the neck of the central plot, I'd be more eager to assess them on their own merits, knowing that Park writes in ways that accumulate meaning rather than generate narrative momentum. For now, My Liberation Notes registers as the stronger work, and the tighter construction is the primary reason.

Despite the somewhat depressing reality of modern-day South Korea that this show presents, it is often quite warm. Dinner tables become stages for philosophical exchange rather than conflict, and there is a friendly rapport among the characters that allows for an honest flow of ideas. While some conversations drift toward confrontation, as in the arguments between Chang-hee and Je-ho or between Gi-jeong and Tae-hun's sister, they tend more often toward the philosophical than the argumentative.

The show earns its warmth through honestly presenting the realities of these lives without allowing them to tip into conflict or despair. A lot of the warmth in Korean dramas can feel manufactured because writers engineer it through proven likability mechanics designed to please an audience. Park is bold enough to believe that presenting characters as genuine human beings struggling with life's challenges can be warm without conceding to market pressure. It is understood that the Yeom family and the various people they allow into their lives wish well for each other, which makes even the most vicious arguments among them come from a place of love.

With that said, 16 episodes is a liability for a drama whose storytelling prizes concision. Some viewers will be alienated before the payoffs arrive, and there are stretches in the middle where the accumulation of reflective conversation outpaces what the drama has yet earned. Twelve to thirteen episodes would be ideal for a drama as restrained and realistic as this one, and the absence of a propulsive plot will test the patience of viewers accustomed to more conventional narrative momentum. For those willing to observe character behavior without that pressure, the final four episodes justify the commitment.

Overall, My Liberation Notes provides a warm, lived-in account of the struggle to live with purpose in modern-day South Korea. This is essentially what might have happened if Yasujiro Ozu could travel forward in time and make a television series about modern life. Episode 14, the highlight of the series for me, felt much like the ending of Tokyo Story (1953). The viewer who should avoid it is one who needs clear conflict and narrative momentum to stay engaged. This is notably light on both.

I would recommend it to viewers who appreciate character-focused, philosophically oriented television that rewards patience and dedication, the kinds of traits that seem to be part of the "worship" Mi-jeong talked about early in the series. Fittingly, the show is for those who can worship.

Favorite Episodes:

1. Episode 14
2. Episode 15
3. Episode 13

Favorite Character: Yeom Mi-jeong

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"Quartet" -- The Pain and Joy of Performing as a String Quartet

Quartet sneaks up on you. On paper, it is a gentle story of four strangers who share a villa in the mountains as they fumble toward a life as an amateur string quartet. Beneath that, however, runs a mystery that the series takes its time revealing. These two modes do not always feel as though they belong together, and yet the show slowly wins you over.

Yuji Sakamoto's writing is key to the show's appeal. It is grounded, melancholy, and funny in a gentle way that feels earned rather than manufactured. The series is at its best when it simply lets its four leads exist in the same room, talking, bickering, eating, and being awkward around each other. The filmmakers find many dynamic ways to keep these scenes fresh, deploying creative staging ideas throughout the dialogue sequences that prevent them from ever feeling static. The show has a rare gift for finding profundity in the smallest of moments, as when the quiet scandal of squeezing lemon on a communal plate of chicken karaage without obtaining anyone's consent becomes, improbably, an occasion for genuine feeling.

The mountain locale lends the series a pleasing remove from ordinary life. There is a sense that these musicians are glad to be performing, regardless of whether any audience receives them warmly. That contentment is hard won: the characters navigate real difficulty in booking gigs and reckoning with the complicated histories they each carry. Their passion for performing together persists anyway, indifferent to external validation, and it gives the show an emotional core that rewards patience.

The heavy reliance on dialogue is both the show's greatest strength and, on occasion, its limitation. The dense, witty exchanges are a pleasure, but the approach can feel one-note in stretches. A little more variety in texture would have helped.

The cast is excellent across the board, with Takako Matsu a particular standout. She brings an understated gravity to her role that anchors the whole ensemble. The mystery element threads through the series with enough patience that it initially seems at odds with the looser, contemplative slice-of-life half. But the show earns the synthesis. By the end, the two strands feel less like competing tones than like two voices that were always, quietly, playing the same piece.

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"Sandglass" -- A Tragic Bromance Set in '70s and '80s South Korea

A complex and moving dramatization of South Korean life under authoritarian rule.

"Sandglass" begins as a story of Park Tae-soo and Kang Woo-suk, two friends whose lives are shaped and transformed by the corrupt South Korean government in the 1970s and 80s. Tae-soo is an ambitious young gangster who fights his way through life, while Woo-suk is a precocious intellect who wishes to become a prosecutor. Both of these men have affection for Yoon Hye-rin, the daughter of a corrupt casino owner in Seoul.

As the series evolves, however, their lives transform in ways that they never would've anticipated. Hye-rin is rebellious in her youth, defying her father and striving for a Korea free of corrupt figures like him. As the series continues, however, she comes to work in his casino and works to maintain his empire as she grows up. This puts her into direct conflict with Tae-soo, a gangster and a former flame who also works in the casino business. What develops is an uneasy "lovers as rivals" dynamic between Tae-soo and Hye-rin. While their affection for each other is evident, they also must work against each other's interests at times to improve their standing. The person who operates from love in this arrangement sets themselves up for destruction.

Woo-suk also transforms somewhat. As a prosecutor, he does the seemingly improbable by using his position to challenge South Korea's corrupt power elites. In doing so, he brings about a necessary moment of transparency for the Korean people that helps reshape Korean politics for the better. This is remarkable given his belief that he lacked the moral character to bring about such transparency. He was once involved in the Kwangju Massacre as a soldier, in which he suppressed the voices of people who opposed the government. Not only does he fulfill his father's wish for him to become a prosecutor, but he creates a better South Korea for his wife and child.

While the filmmaking definitely shows its age (the soundtrack, sound effects, and some of the cinematography and editing), Song Ji Na's screenplay is timeless in the way it weaves a complex human drama during a troubling period in South Korea's history. It's by turns tragic, thrilling, and hopeful.

Favorite Episodes:
1. Episode 7 - Fueled by a gripping and horrifying depiction of the Kwangju Massacre.
2. Episode 23 - Perhaps the most cathartic episode of the series
3. Episode 24 - The tragic but necessary conclusion of the series

Favorite Characters:
1. Park Tae-soo

2. Baek Jae-hee (Hye-rin's memorably loyal bodyguard. He's played by Lee Jung-jae, who would go on to star as Seong Gi-hoon/Player 456 in "Squid Game" nearly three decades after this series)

3. Kang Woo-suk

4. Yoon Hye-rin

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