This review may contain spoilers
Honest, Sincere, and Real
Had zero expectations going into this show. No big names, no unique plot. Yet something about the posters drew me in, and I’m so glad it did. Watching this show felt like receiving a long-overdue hug. It’s comforting, heartfelt, and beautifully sincere.
The story revolves around Ssireum, a traditional Korean wrestling sport I didn’t even know existed before this. But by the end, I absolutely loved it. The drama builds the world of Ssireum with care, explaining the rules clearly without ever feeling confusing or heavy-handed.
Jang Dong Yoon is truly the heart and soul of this show. His character is innocent, pure, and deeply earnest. He starts off as a once-promising but now-faded athlete, a little lost and naive, yet becomes one of the most lovable characters as his layers unfold. He’s like a puppy you just want to wrap in a blanket and protect from the world. His struggle; wanting to win one last title before retiring, but doubting whether he still has it in him is portrayed with raw honesty. The scene where he breaks down and tells his father he announced he’d quit the sport hoping others would talk him out of it, but no one did, is heartbreakingly beautiful. It’s so well written and acted that you can’t help but root for him.
Lee Joo Myung shines as the once-tomboyish female lead. Her character is more than just a love interest, she has her own strength, story, and growth. The friendship and romance between her and the male lead feel natural and genuine. Their childhood connection, shy first love, and the way their relationship develops are all handled with such subtle care that it feels organic and real.
The friend group is another highlight, full of love, jealousy, support, and frustration in equal measure. They feel like real people, and by the end, you feel like you’re part of their circle. I also loved Dong Yoon’s supportive family, such a refreshing change from the stereotypical disapproving K-drama parents. The family dynamics were heartwarming, and the small-town cinematography was simply stunning. The visuals are soft, warm, and beautifully capture the show’s comforting tone.
If there’s one weak link, it’s the murder subplot. I understand its importance for the female lead’s arc, but the mystery itself felt underwhelming and unnecessary. You don’t really care about solving it; you just want to see the characters live, grow, and find happiness.
The ending was perfect. I loved that he won the championship, and even more, that his victory wasn’t tied solely to the female lead. She supported and believed in him, but it was still his achievement. The show makes sure you feel that, and when he finally wins, it feels like you’ve won something too.
It’s nothing grand, nothing flashy, nothing overly dramatic but it’s a drama that stays with you. You’ll miss it the moment it ends and wouldn’t mind if it had ten more seasons.
The story revolves around Ssireum, a traditional Korean wrestling sport I didn’t even know existed before this. But by the end, I absolutely loved it. The drama builds the world of Ssireum with care, explaining the rules clearly without ever feeling confusing or heavy-handed.
Jang Dong Yoon is truly the heart and soul of this show. His character is innocent, pure, and deeply earnest. He starts off as a once-promising but now-faded athlete, a little lost and naive, yet becomes one of the most lovable characters as his layers unfold. He’s like a puppy you just want to wrap in a blanket and protect from the world. His struggle; wanting to win one last title before retiring, but doubting whether he still has it in him is portrayed with raw honesty. The scene where he breaks down and tells his father he announced he’d quit the sport hoping others would talk him out of it, but no one did, is heartbreakingly beautiful. It’s so well written and acted that you can’t help but root for him.
Lee Joo Myung shines as the once-tomboyish female lead. Her character is more than just a love interest, she has her own strength, story, and growth. The friendship and romance between her and the male lead feel natural and genuine. Their childhood connection, shy first love, and the way their relationship develops are all handled with such subtle care that it feels organic and real.
The friend group is another highlight, full of love, jealousy, support, and frustration in equal measure. They feel like real people, and by the end, you feel like you’re part of their circle. I also loved Dong Yoon’s supportive family, such a refreshing change from the stereotypical disapproving K-drama parents. The family dynamics were heartwarming, and the small-town cinematography was simply stunning. The visuals are soft, warm, and beautifully capture the show’s comforting tone.
If there’s one weak link, it’s the murder subplot. I understand its importance for the female lead’s arc, but the mystery itself felt underwhelming and unnecessary. You don’t really care about solving it; you just want to see the characters live, grow, and find happiness.
The ending was perfect. I loved that he won the championship, and even more, that his victory wasn’t tied solely to the female lead. She supported and believed in him, but it was still his achievement. The show makes sure you feel that, and when he finally wins, it feels like you’ve won something too.
It’s nothing grand, nothing flashy, nothing overly dramatic but it’s a drama that stays with you. You’ll miss it the moment it ends and wouldn’t mind if it had ten more seasons.
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