Good Boy

WHEN GREAT ACTORS ARE TRAPPED IN BAD WRITING

Wow. What a show. Truly groundbreaking stuff, if what you’re aiming for is wasting an incredible cast on a script that makes zero sense.

Let’s start with the medical storyline, because clearly, accuracy wasn’t a priority. Punch-drunk syndrome? A terminal, degenerative condition? Apparently not here! Nope, here it’s just: “I’ll be fine if I take my meds.” Oh sure, buddy. No tremors, no vision loss, no slow, painful decline. Just pop a pill and you’re good to go. Groundbreaking medical science, right?

And Dong-ju. Man survives drugging, beatings, back injuries, PTSD, and a terminal brain disorder without even breaking a sweat. Superhuman? Apparently. Consequences? Never heard of them.

The romance? Oh, don’t worry, it’s definitely there… if you enjoy watching a female lead act like she just wants attention instead of, you know, having real feelings. Kim So Hyun tried, bless her, but even she couldn’t save a character written this badly. And of course, we traded a potentially amazing bromance for this half-baked love story. Great decision, writers. Really.

Now onto Ju-yeong, our so-called villain. The man who kills people for simply annoying him... except, of course, for Dong-ju, the walking definition of “please kill me already.” Because logic is optional here. For a start, what villain threatens to kill you every other scene and still doesn’t pull the trigger? Ju-yeong had everything: control over people, the money, the containers to make bodies vanish. He could’ve sneezed in Dong-ju’s direction and won. But no, he was written like a plot puppet. That first bathroom scene was pure villain gold. Everything after was downhill at record speed.

And don’t even get me started on Heo Sung-tae. THE Heo Sung-tae, reduced to a childish, weak chief for cheap laughs. Because nothing says “thriller” like forced slapstick.

The police team? Oh, please. Elite force? More like the department everyone laughs at. They were incompetent, constantly wrong, and then magically promoted at the end… for reasons? Sure. Why not. Meanwhile, this same team bends over backward defending Dong-ju, even though his idea of police work is punching people first and thinking never. But apparently, “it’s not his fault.” No, actually, it is.

And don’t think I forgot the wasted poetic justice. Ju-yeong should’ve died by his own philosophy: “loose ends need to be tied up, so now you’re the loose end.” But nope. He died unrepentant, evil to his last breath, with no real reckoning. What a waste.

So yes. If you’re looking for a story where good actors are forced to play idiots, medical science doesn’t exist, and logic is an urban legend, this is the show for you.

At least Jong-hyun’s jealous bromance moments were fun. That’s… something, I guess.

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Fueled by adrenaline, ran low on substance

The premise alone of recruiting former world-champion athletes into a police task force sold it for me. The story was promising.

However, during the first episode, the series struggled to find its footing. I couldn’t quite figure out how to follow its rhythm, and as a viewer, I couldn’t pin down the direction or tone it wanted to commit to.

Production-wise, it’s clear the budget was generous (there were a number of product placements), and the casting felt spot-on, but if I'm being honest, it took me quite an effort not to exit out during the episode’s first half. There were noticeable stumbles that discouraged me, but with patience and Park Bogum’s face as incentive, I powered through.

Instead of aiming for realism, the series leaned heavily into formalism—serving up both literal and figurative (scoring, lighting, OST, editing, etc.) punches to keep viewers hooked.

While I’m aware that this isn’t some introspective slice-of-life or youth drama, maybe expecting a more grounded, lifelike narrative is asking too much, because a lot of times, some scenes grew increasingly absurd. Watching the male lead, Yun Dongju, walk away from getting run over by a car, every brutal beating and blow, and a bloodied face without a tooth and hair missing felt more unconvincing than compelling as it tested the limits of believability.

There were also far too many missed opportunities. For instance, the antagonist had countless chances to take down the male lead but kept backing off for some reason. For a supposedly ruthless villain, that inconsistency felt jarring.

Of course, the plot needs its protagonist to survive, but the encounters could’ve been written in a way that added weight and meaning to their conflict instead of relying on sheer convenience.

Another letdown was the narrow focus on the two leads, Yun Dongju and Ji Han Na, and yet still failing to explore their characters with depth. For a story with such an ensemble setup, it also felt like a disservice not to dive deeper into the rest of the team—each former athlete clearly had a story worth exploring, and yet, they were barely given any room for their narrative to come alive.

The series also weaved in a political subplot, but since it never aimed for realism, the politics stayed mostly on the sidelines. Rather than a fully developed thread, it functioned more as a dramatic lever that is pulled when the conflict needed a little extra weight.

Fast pacing makes sense in an action-centric series, but the jumpy transitions between unresolved conflicts left noticeable gaps in the plot. It made the flow feel disjointed, almost like the show was sprinting without a clear finish line in sight.

What kept me watching through all of this was Park Bogum. And I say this sans bias for his (pretty) face.

This is only the second time I’ve seen him in a drama—the first being Reply 1988 more than a decade ago—and honestly, I was floored.

He’s transformed into an actor I didn’t know he could become. With every nuance and expression, he embodied a free-spirited character who’s been dragged through life’s worst yet continues to rise with reckless hope, warmth, and unfiltered kindness.

He wasn’t playing some groundbreaking role, and this isn’t a masterpiece of a drama, but his performance deserves recognition. He gave this story a soul it otherwise wouldn’t have had.

Aside from the solid fight scenes choreography and the action-packed sequences, what truly kept me invested was the special team itself. Somewhere along the way, I found myself rooting for them, wanting to see how their individual stories would unfold—this sentiment stems more from personal preference than from how the narrative was actually built.

Towards the end, the writers clearly scrambled to throw in a few plot twists before the resolution hit. By then, I’d already lost interest. The story had dragged on and spun in circles for far too long.

That said, this isn’t a series to watch with hopes of tightly written storytelling, deep character arcs, or clean resolutions. It’s best approached with minimal expectations on those fronts. To enjoy the series, it's best to lean into the adrenaline. Bonus: the last episode ends with all of the special team members alive.

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