2
3
3
Moving: Restoring Humanity to Superhuman
There was a time when superhero stories felt like they meant something. Before the genre became a relentless spectacle of CGI explosions and factory-assembled scripts, there was a brief, golden era where studios understood that the superhuman had to be human first. That era ended with Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight. Since then, big studios have churned out one lifeless blockbuster after another, desperately chasing the high of caped crusaders while forgetting the soul underneath the suit. And then, Moving happened.
At first glance, Moving might seem like another flashy K-drama riding the superhero wave, but that assumption couldn’t be more wrong. This isn’t a story about people with powers—it’s a story about people. A mother who would do anything to protect her son. A father whose love for his daughter is his greatest strength and weakness. A young boy falling in love for the first time, terrified that his secrets might make him unlovable. The superpowers are just the seasoning; the real meat of the story is the relationships, the struggles, and the deeply personal sacrifices made in the name of love.
Kim Bong-seok (Lee Jung-ha), Jang Hee-soo (Go Youn-jung), and Lee Gang-hoon (Kim Do-hoon) may be high school students with inherited abilities, but they are first and foremost kids, trying to navigate the treacherous waters of adolescence while hiding gifts that could make them targets. Bong-seok can fly, Hee-soo heals at an unnatural speed, and Gang-hoon possesses monstrous strength and agility. Yet despite their abilities, they remain achingly relatable—awkward, uncertain, and burdened by the expectations placed upon them by forces beyond their control. Their parents, once part of a shadowy government operation, are now fighting an entirely different battle: ensuring their children have the normal lives they never did.
Moving masterfully weaves its narrative across three timelines, never once losing its momentum or emotional depth. The present-day story of the teenagers gives way to a flashback that explores the past lives of their parents, revealing the hidden scars they bear and the love stories that shaped them. This deliberate structuring isn’t just a gimmick—it enriches the overarching narrative, making every revelation hit that much harder. By the time episode 15 arrives, every missing puzzle piece falls into place, making the experience all the more rewarding. Even the so-called villains, the North Korean superhuman assassins, are given backstories that refuse to paint them in black-and-white strokes. Through the use of flashbacks, we come to understand—and even mourn—some of them by the end.
But all of this would fall flat if not for the impeccable performances from a star-studded cast. Han Hyo-joo delivers a career-defining performance as Lee Mi-hyun, Bong-seok’s mother, a former ANSP intelligence analyst whose life revolves around shielding her son from those who would exploit him. The mother-son dynamic between Mi-hyun and Bong-seok is the emotional core of the series, capturing the raw, all-consuming love of a parent who will stop at nothing to protect her child. Meanwhile, Ryu Seung-ryong as Jang Ju-won, Hee-soo’s father, brings a heart-wrenching vulnerability to a character whose regeneration ability makes him seemingly invincible but unable to heal from the wounds of loss. And then there’s Kim Sung-kyun as Lee Jae-man, Gang-hoon’s father, a man of immense strength but limited intellect, whose love for his son is unwaveringly pure. These relationships—fraught, tender, and deeply human—elevate Moving far beyond its genre trappings.
Visually, Moving is a marvel. The cinematography is breathtaking, from the exhilarating sequences of Bong-seok discovering the sheer joy (and terror) of flight, to the hauntingly brutal fight scenes that feel shockingly real despite the presence of superhuman abilities. One particularly stunning moment involves Bong-seok soaring upward, sending a cascade of water rippling across a lake, capturing the raw beauty of his power. Another sees him bursting through glass in slow-motion, desperate to save Hee-soo, each shard reflecting the weight of his emotions. Even subtle choices, like the shift in color tones to indicate flashbacks, demonstrate a meticulous attention to detail that many big-budget productions fail to achieve.
Of course, a superhero story wouldn’t be complete without action, and Moving does not disappoint. The fight choreography is nothing short of masterful, with each encounter feeling visceral and weighty. From Kim Doo-sik (Jo In-sung) unleashing the full potential of flight in black ops combat, to Hee-soo’s now-iconic 17-against-1 mud-covered brawl, the series knows when to dazzle and when to let the brutality speak for itself. Unlike the sanitized, weightless battles of Hollywood blockbusters, every punch, every wound, every desperate gasp for breath in Moving carries meaning.
Yet for all its strengths, Moving isn’t without its flaws. Those expecting a lighthearted high school romance may be misled by the initial episodes, only to find themselves in a story far grander and more intense than they bargained for. The timeline shifts, while brilliantly executed, may alienate viewers who prefer straightforward storytelling. And perhaps the biggest misstep is the soundtrack—or lack thereof. Unlike many K-dramas that leave audiences with an unforgettable OST, Moving opts for an instrumental-heavy score that, while fitting, doesn’t leave a lasting impact. It’s a small gripe in the grand scheme of things, but a noticeable one nonetheless.
But these are minor quibbles in an otherwise extraordinary journey. On paper, Moving is about superhuman parents protecting their children. In reality, it is about the deeply human experience of hiding who you are to fit in, the crushing burden of inherited trauma, and the indescribable freedom that comes from embracing yourself. It is, above all else, a story about love—the love between parents and children, between friends, between those who choose to fight for each other against all odds. In doing so, Moving has accomplished what Hollywood has failed to do for years: it has put the human back in the superhuman.
A must-watch for fans of gripping storytelling, breathtaking action, and emotionally resonant drama.
Likes:
- A rare superhuman story that prioritizes human relationships, making the extraordinary feel grounded and relatable.
- Masterful use of nonlinear storytelling that adds depth and emotional weight.
- Stellar performances from an all-star cast, with emotionally rich parent-child dynamics.
- Breathtaking cinematography and visually stunning action sequences.
- Expertly choreographed fight scenes that enhance rather than overshadow the narrative.
Dislikes:
- Not a typical high school romance; may not appeal to those expecting a lighter story.
- Nonlinear timeline may be confusing for some viewers.
- Lack of a memorable OST compared to other K-dramas.
Verdict:
More than just a superhuman story, Moving is an emotional powerhouse that explores identity, family, and sacrifice. A narrative triumph that surpasses anything Hollywood has produced in the genre since Nolan’s The Dark Knight. A must-watch for anyone who craves a story with both heart and spectacle.
At first glance, Moving might seem like another flashy K-drama riding the superhero wave, but that assumption couldn’t be more wrong. This isn’t a story about people with powers—it’s a story about people. A mother who would do anything to protect her son. A father whose love for his daughter is his greatest strength and weakness. A young boy falling in love for the first time, terrified that his secrets might make him unlovable. The superpowers are just the seasoning; the real meat of the story is the relationships, the struggles, and the deeply personal sacrifices made in the name of love.
Kim Bong-seok (Lee Jung-ha), Jang Hee-soo (Go Youn-jung), and Lee Gang-hoon (Kim Do-hoon) may be high school students with inherited abilities, but they are first and foremost kids, trying to navigate the treacherous waters of adolescence while hiding gifts that could make them targets. Bong-seok can fly, Hee-soo heals at an unnatural speed, and Gang-hoon possesses monstrous strength and agility. Yet despite their abilities, they remain achingly relatable—awkward, uncertain, and burdened by the expectations placed upon them by forces beyond their control. Their parents, once part of a shadowy government operation, are now fighting an entirely different battle: ensuring their children have the normal lives they never did.
Moving masterfully weaves its narrative across three timelines, never once losing its momentum or emotional depth. The present-day story of the teenagers gives way to a flashback that explores the past lives of their parents, revealing the hidden scars they bear and the love stories that shaped them. This deliberate structuring isn’t just a gimmick—it enriches the overarching narrative, making every revelation hit that much harder. By the time episode 15 arrives, every missing puzzle piece falls into place, making the experience all the more rewarding. Even the so-called villains, the North Korean superhuman assassins, are given backstories that refuse to paint them in black-and-white strokes. Through the use of flashbacks, we come to understand—and even mourn—some of them by the end.
But all of this would fall flat if not for the impeccable performances from a star-studded cast. Han Hyo-joo delivers a career-defining performance as Lee Mi-hyun, Bong-seok’s mother, a former ANSP intelligence analyst whose life revolves around shielding her son from those who would exploit him. The mother-son dynamic between Mi-hyun and Bong-seok is the emotional core of the series, capturing the raw, all-consuming love of a parent who will stop at nothing to protect her child. Meanwhile, Ryu Seung-ryong as Jang Ju-won, Hee-soo’s father, brings a heart-wrenching vulnerability to a character whose regeneration ability makes him seemingly invincible but unable to heal from the wounds of loss. And then there’s Kim Sung-kyun as Lee Jae-man, Gang-hoon’s father, a man of immense strength but limited intellect, whose love for his son is unwaveringly pure. These relationships—fraught, tender, and deeply human—elevate Moving far beyond its genre trappings.
Visually, Moving is a marvel. The cinematography is breathtaking, from the exhilarating sequences of Bong-seok discovering the sheer joy (and terror) of flight, to the hauntingly brutal fight scenes that feel shockingly real despite the presence of superhuman abilities. One particularly stunning moment involves Bong-seok soaring upward, sending a cascade of water rippling across a lake, capturing the raw beauty of his power. Another sees him bursting through glass in slow-motion, desperate to save Hee-soo, each shard reflecting the weight of his emotions. Even subtle choices, like the shift in color tones to indicate flashbacks, demonstrate a meticulous attention to detail that many big-budget productions fail to achieve.
Of course, a superhero story wouldn’t be complete without action, and Moving does not disappoint. The fight choreography is nothing short of masterful, with each encounter feeling visceral and weighty. From Kim Doo-sik (Jo In-sung) unleashing the full potential of flight in black ops combat, to Hee-soo’s now-iconic 17-against-1 mud-covered brawl, the series knows when to dazzle and when to let the brutality speak for itself. Unlike the sanitized, weightless battles of Hollywood blockbusters, every punch, every wound, every desperate gasp for breath in Moving carries meaning.
Yet for all its strengths, Moving isn’t without its flaws. Those expecting a lighthearted high school romance may be misled by the initial episodes, only to find themselves in a story far grander and more intense than they bargained for. The timeline shifts, while brilliantly executed, may alienate viewers who prefer straightforward storytelling. And perhaps the biggest misstep is the soundtrack—or lack thereof. Unlike many K-dramas that leave audiences with an unforgettable OST, Moving opts for an instrumental-heavy score that, while fitting, doesn’t leave a lasting impact. It’s a small gripe in the grand scheme of things, but a noticeable one nonetheless.
But these are minor quibbles in an otherwise extraordinary journey. On paper, Moving is about superhuman parents protecting their children. In reality, it is about the deeply human experience of hiding who you are to fit in, the crushing burden of inherited trauma, and the indescribable freedom that comes from embracing yourself. It is, above all else, a story about love—the love between parents and children, between friends, between those who choose to fight for each other against all odds. In doing so, Moving has accomplished what Hollywood has failed to do for years: it has put the human back in the superhuman.
A must-watch for fans of gripping storytelling, breathtaking action, and emotionally resonant drama.
Likes:
- A rare superhuman story that prioritizes human relationships, making the extraordinary feel grounded and relatable.
- Masterful use of nonlinear storytelling that adds depth and emotional weight.
- Stellar performances from an all-star cast, with emotionally rich parent-child dynamics.
- Breathtaking cinematography and visually stunning action sequences.
- Expertly choreographed fight scenes that enhance rather than overshadow the narrative.
Dislikes:
- Not a typical high school romance; may not appeal to those expecting a lighter story.
- Nonlinear timeline may be confusing for some viewers.
- Lack of a memorable OST compared to other K-dramas.
Verdict:
More than just a superhuman story, Moving is an emotional powerhouse that explores identity, family, and sacrifice. A narrative triumph that surpasses anything Hollywood has produced in the genre since Nolan’s The Dark Knight. A must-watch for anyone who craves a story with both heart and spectacle.
Was this review helpful to you?
