This review may contain spoilers
Power Plays and Lukewarm Revenge
There was something immediately compelling about Kkondae Intern — that delicious setup where the underdog becomes the boss, and the man who once made his life hell is now his subordinate. I went in expecting catharsis, sharp satire, maybe even some earned pettiness. And to be fair, it flirted with all of that. But in the end, it never really committed to anything long enough for the impact to stick.
Park Hae-jin grounded Ga-yeol-chan with this almost unbearable restraint — the kind of self-control that people mistake for politeness but is really just survival. I felt that. The way he kept his anger folded, measured, repackaged as efficiency. It’s a quiet kind of rage, and he played it well.
Kim Eung-soo as the out-of-touch intern was… a ride. He wobbled between absurdity and pathos in a way that sometimes worked and sometimes felt like a different show entirely. There were moments where I actually pitied him — which is wild, considering how loathsome his character was set up to be. But maybe that was the point. That revenge, in practice, is rarely as clean or satisfying as it looks in theory.
What didn’t work — or didn’t stay working — was the tone. It zigzagged between slapstick, sentimentality, and commentary without ever really stitching those threads together. One minute I was chuckling at office absurdities, the next I was supposed to feel emotionally gutted by generational guilt or the weight of corporate hypocrisy. And while some of those beats hit, most just bounced off.
There were definitely sparks — episodes or scenes where it felt like the show might finally lock into something deeper, something earned. But they flickered, then vanished under another gag, another tonal shift, another missed opportunity.
By the end, I didn’t feel cheated, but I did feel like I’d been circling something more meaningful that never quite landed. The potential was rich — so many chances to say something about power, forgiveness, change — but too much of it got buried under awkward laughs and mixed signals.
Not a waste. Just… undercooked. Like it plated a revenge fantasy and forgot to serve it hot.
Park Hae-jin grounded Ga-yeol-chan with this almost unbearable restraint — the kind of self-control that people mistake for politeness but is really just survival. I felt that. The way he kept his anger folded, measured, repackaged as efficiency. It’s a quiet kind of rage, and he played it well.
Kim Eung-soo as the out-of-touch intern was… a ride. He wobbled between absurdity and pathos in a way that sometimes worked and sometimes felt like a different show entirely. There were moments where I actually pitied him — which is wild, considering how loathsome his character was set up to be. But maybe that was the point. That revenge, in practice, is rarely as clean or satisfying as it looks in theory.
What didn’t work — or didn’t stay working — was the tone. It zigzagged between slapstick, sentimentality, and commentary without ever really stitching those threads together. One minute I was chuckling at office absurdities, the next I was supposed to feel emotionally gutted by generational guilt or the weight of corporate hypocrisy. And while some of those beats hit, most just bounced off.
There were definitely sparks — episodes or scenes where it felt like the show might finally lock into something deeper, something earned. But they flickered, then vanished under another gag, another tonal shift, another missed opportunity.
By the end, I didn’t feel cheated, but I did feel like I’d been circling something more meaningful that never quite landed. The potential was rich — so many chances to say something about power, forgiveness, change — but too much of it got buried under awkward laughs and mixed signals.
Not a waste. Just… undercooked. Like it plated a revenge fantasy and forgot to serve it hot.
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