so far, I kinda like it... it gives me more WANTED vibe without all of its good stuff lol... I like seeing how…
That's a fair interpretation. My expectation came from the premise itself. The series is marketed around a professional assassin, so I expected the thriller elements to be its strongest aspect, especially in the opening episodes. If the real focus is her family life rather than the assassin side, that's perfectly fine—it just isn't what the premise sold me.
After two episodes, it's clear this series is trying something rarely seen on television.
It adopts a chapter-based narrative, dividing the story into titled segments while shifting perspectives between characters. Episode 1 follows Gyeong Hui (Kim Hye Soo), Episode 2 follows Su Jeong (Jo Yeo Jung). Some scenes are revisited, not to pad the runtime, but to reveal new information and completely reframe what the audience thought they understood.
Visually, it has a strong identity. It reminded me of Wes Anderson's storytelling approach, particularly The French Dispatch and Asteroid City. Not because it imitates his aesthetic, but because its chapter titles, editing, composition, and visual language actively support the narrative instead of merely decorating it.
The affair is only the beginning. Rather than treating infidelity as the central conflict, the script uses it as the first domino in a chain reaction. Every decision leads to larger consequences, gradually drawing more characters into an increasingly complex web of events.
The performances deserve equal credit. In a story that relies so heavily on subtle reactions and shifting perspectives, the cast gives every scene the weight it needs.
After two episodes, I still can't buy the premise.
My biggest issue isn't that the series leaves questions unanswered. A good thriller is supposed to do that. The problem is that it never convinces me that its world actually works.
According to the show, Bo Na had already carried out 96 assassinations before taking a four-year break. They all followed the same pattern, yet the police only start connecting the dots now. Instead of making Bo Na look brilliant, it makes everyone investigating her look unbelievably incompetent.
The first assassination, which should have sold me on the idea of a highly trained sniper, is surprisingly underwhelming. There's almost no preparation, no tension, and none of the ritual that usually makes professional assassins fascinating to watch.
Episode 2 answers a few questions. We learn that she still trains, has a support team, and isn't a contract killer but a vigilante targeting criminals who have already been tried and sentenced by the Korean justice system. The organization simply decides those sentences weren't severe enough and replaces them with execution. That could have been an interesting moral dilemma, but so far the series seems more interested in justifying the killings than exploring the ethical implications.
One more observation: so far, every single target has been a man—the abusive father, convicted criminals who received lighter sentences, and even the supermarket harasser. I'm not drawing any conclusions; I'm simply pointing out what the series has shown in its first two episodes.
At the moment, the show feels like a blend of Death Wish, The Long Kiss Goodnight, and a bit of Mr. & Mrs. Smith, but without developing an identity of its own.
The premise had potential. Unfortunately, after two episodes, the execution hasn't lived up to it.
After a surprisingly fresh first episode, Episode 2 already exposes the show's first major weaknesses.
The chemistry between the two leads is still the best part of the series. Whenever they're together, the comedy works naturally and the show feels genuinely entertaining. The problem is that, once they're apart, it turns into a fairly generic supernatural romance.
What bothered me the most were the forced encounters. The classic "waking up in the same bed" cliché happens way too early and relies on so many convenient coincidences that it completely breaks the natural feeling established in Episode 1. Later, another scene on an escalator does the exact same thing, using an over-the-top slow-motion rescue to manufacture a romantic moment instead of earning it.
It's not a bad show. The leads have great chemistry, and they're genuinely funny together. But Episode 2 gave me the impression that the writers don't fully trust that chemistry, so they keep relying on clichés and artificial situations to bring the characters together.
I'm still interested in watching more, but after this episode, the series no longer feels as fresh as it did at the beginning. If it continues to depend on forced coincidences instead of letting the relationship develop naturally, it may end up becoming just another average romantic drama.
What chemistry? She carries the emotional weight of every scene. He mostly poses for the camera.
We're both judging the first two episodes. You see great chemistry; I see an uneven acting dynamic. That's the point of discussing a show while it's airing. If later episodes change my opinion, I'll say so.
After two episodes, I think I finally understand why Dream to You hasn't fully clicked for me. I did the math. Across 110 minutes of screen time, approximately 50 minutes are flashbacks, around 20 minutes are devoted to the secondary couple, and another 20 minutes follow the two leads separately—either interacting with other characters or dealing with their own personal thoughts and conflicts.
That leaves only about 20 minutes for the two main leads to actually interact and develop their relationship in the present timeline. In other words, only about 18% of the first two episodes has been spent building the central romance.
This isn't a judgment on the entire series. It's simply an observation about how the story has allocated its screen time so far, and I think it explains why the reunion still hasn't fully taken off for me.
You're completely misrepresenting the facts here-- the flashback is not a "long opening segment," it doesn't…
Approximately 27% of the entire first episode is dedicated to a single flashback about their high school romance. And regarding the ten years, I’m not only referring to the reason for their breakup, which has not yet been fully explained. I’m also referring to the lack of contact for an entire decade. Those are two different things, especially when he explicitly says that he has followed her career from the very beginning. The series still owes us a convincing explanation for that.
Dream to You begins as a story about reunion and second chances: two young people who once shared both a romance and the dream of becoming directors, only for their lives to take completely different paths for ten years.
The main problem with the first episode is its pacing. The series spends a long opening segment on their teenage romance, and once it finally reaches the present, it continues relying heavily on flashbacks. Instead of allowing the reunion to move forward, the narrative keeps returning to the past, constantly disrupting the flow of the episode.
The series also owes us a convincing explanation for ten years without contact. In what appears to be a contemporary setting, it is difficult to believe that two people who meant so much to each other could simply disappear from each other's lives for an entire decade—especially when he becomes an internationally recognized director and she becomes a reporter.
It is only the first episode, and there is still a lot left to explain, so it is far too early to judge the series as a whole. But after all the hype and the massive marketing push surrounding the lead couple, the premiere, so far, feels more built around nostalgia than genuine chemistry in the present.
Apartment took almost its entire first episode to convince me that it had something interesting to offer. At first, we have a protagonist who runs an illegal casino: expensive suits, henchmen everywhere, and that whole powerful-man image that, frankly, I’m already tired of. But then the real story begins. The protagonist needs a huge amount of money and discovers that an apartment complex has a 17 billion won reserve fund. To get his hands on it, he needs to become the complex manager. The problem is that, to pull it off, he has to present himself as a respectable family man. So he gets himself a fake wife. And while he’s at it, a fake son, fake uncles... an entire fake family. And that’s when Apartment starts to work. This group may know about casinos, business, and scams, but pretending to be a family is a completely different matter. During their family photo shoot, the photographer tells the boy to go to his dad... and the kid walks over to his real father instead of the protagonist, who is supposed to be playing his dad. His fake mother, however? He falls in love with her immediately. And for me, the biggest reason to keep watching is Ha Yoon Kyung. She has extraordinary comic flair. Her expressions, reactions, and the way she responds to all the absurdity around her carry a large part of the show. So yes, in the end, this is another contract-marriage rom-com. But this time, the marriage is part of a much bigger scam, involving an entirely fake family that has to convince a whole apartment complex that they are perfectly normal people. The first two episodes aren’t perfect, and the series takes too long to show its hand, but once it does... This looks like it could be a lot of fun.
Episode 5 Review Episode 5 of Super Agent 66, the fearless operative of ultra-counterintelligence. The episode starts with... a flashback.
Agent Kim faces about 25 enemies. Cut. We return to the scene and he's standing there with a bloody knife while all 25 guys are lying on the floor. And the fight? Where did it go?
Then... flashback. Then a fight with the revenge-driven North Korean agent. Then... flashback. Then the revenge-driven agent forgives Agent 66. Then... flashback. Then we're back with the daughter. Then... flashback. Then the daughter escapes. Then, thank God, no more flashbacks. Then the supporting cast shows up. Then the daughter asks for help on the highway... and, of course, gets into the truck of one of the bad guys.
The biggest problem with Agent 66 isn't the story—it's Agent 66 himself.
The series tells us that he was recruited as a child by North Korea and trained to become a legendary hitman. That's where the contradiction begins.
Spy fiction usually presents its protagonists within a very clear archetype. You have special operations agents like Jason Bourne, Ethan Hunt, James Bond, or Bryan Mills, whose greatest strength is completing the mission through intelligence, infiltration, and adaptability.
Then you have professional assassins like John Wick, Léon, Vincent from *Collateral*, or The Jackal, whose defining trait is their ruthless efficiency at eliminating targets.
Agent 66 doesn't convincingly fit either category. He doesn't behave like a legendary hitman, but he also never demonstrates the extraordinary tactical intelligence of a top-tier intelligence operative. Instead, the series relies on dramatic stares, long silences, and "tough guy" poses to sell his reputation. The problem is that legends are built through actions, not attitude.
If you removed every line of dialogue telling us that Agent 66 was the greatest of the great, I honestly wouldn't believe it based on what we actually see him do.
I think the writers wanted us to admire him for his deadly past while simultaneously presenting him as a clean, universally likable hero. In doing so, they softened the very qualities that supposedly made him legendary.
My criticism is not that he doesn't kill enough people. Nor am I saying every protagonist needs to be violent. My issue is much simpler: the character's present-day behavior doesn't match the past that the series itself created for him.
Despite its outstanding ratings, this series has become a fan favorite while, in my opinion, remaining painfully mediocre.
We get a shootout where well over 100 rounds are fired and nobody gets hit. Then come the usual one-man-army fight scenes. And let's not even talk about the daughter: she hits her head, everyone assumes she's dead, yet nobody bothers to check if she's breathing, has a pulse, is losing color, or if her body has started to cool down. Hours later, she wakes up as if she had just taken a nap.
After following clue after clue, our super agent 86... sorry, this one's Agent 66... finally finds a lead that could take him to his daughter. He rushes out of the building in desperation... and takes a taxi. Because apparently stealing a car when every second counts would be crossing the line.
And, of course, more flashbacks. Agent Kim, the villain, the gangster, the neighbor... it feels like everyone in the cast gets one.
As I've always said, high ratings only tell you how many people enjoyed a series—not how well it's written.
My biggest problem with this drama is that it feels like it tells its entire movie in just two episodes.
By the end of Episode 2, we already have the kidnapping, the conspiracy against the husband, the kidnapper's identity, and a villain who is always one step ahead. My first thought wasn't "I can't wait for Episode 3." It was:
"So... what are the other 10 episodes supposed to be about?"
Everything points toward the same repetitive cycle: false leads, the husband trying to prove his innocence, and a kidnapper who succeeds not because he's exceptionally clever, but because the script keeps handing him perfect coincidences.
The kidnapping itself already stretches credibility. A physically capable woman is abducted in broad daylight without anyone noticing, without meaningful resistance, and without leaving any convincing trace.
Then there's the manipulated video. In an era of AI, deepfakes, and basic video editing, watching the authorities treat such an obviously questionable piece of evidence as if it were conclusive feels more like a plot shortcut than an actual investigation.
When a villain wins because every other character suddenly becomes less competent, the suspense disappears. Instead of watching a battle of wits, you're watching the script force everyone into convenient decisions just to reach the next cliffhanger.
Unfortunately, after only two episodes, I wasn't excited to continue. I felt like the story had already shown me its entire hand.
After four episodes, I honestly don't know what this drama wants me to feel.
The breakup with the ex is supposed to be emotional, but the relationship was never developed enough for me to care. The series keeps trying to manufacture emotions with hugs, tears, sad music, and slow-motion acting instead of earning them through good writing.
The office comedy is built from the same scenes we've seen countless times in this genre. The gossiping coworkers, the awkward reactions, the exaggerated expressions... everything feels mechanical, as if everyone is following a familiar rom-com checklist instead of behaving like real people.
The main couple also lacks the chemistry and charisma needed to carry a romantic comedy, and the performances—especially in the emotional scenes—never convinced me. I rarely criticize acting, but here it became impossible to ignore.
Four episodes in, it feels less like a story and more like a collection of recycled rom-com tropes without a personality of its own.
5 
1 
After two episodes, it's clear this series is trying something rarely seen on television.
It adopts a chapter-based narrative, dividing the story into titled segments while shifting perspectives between characters. Episode 1 follows Gyeong Hui (Kim Hye Soo), Episode 2 follows Su Jeong (Jo Yeo Jung). Some scenes are revisited, not to pad the runtime, but to reveal new information and completely reframe what the audience thought they understood.
Visually, it has a strong identity. It reminded me of Wes Anderson's storytelling approach, particularly The French Dispatch and Asteroid City. Not because it imitates his aesthetic, but because its chapter titles, editing, composition, and visual language actively support the narrative instead of merely decorating it.
The affair is only the beginning. Rather than treating infidelity as the central conflict, the script uses it as the first domino in a chain reaction. Every decision leads to larger consequences, gradually drawing more characters into an increasingly complex web of events.
The performances deserve equal credit. In a story that relies so heavily on subtle reactions and shifting perspectives, the cast gives every scene the weight it needs.
An outstanding opening. 6/5 stars.
My biggest issue isn't that the series leaves questions unanswered. A good thriller is supposed to do that. The problem is that it never convinces me that its world actually works.
According to the show, Bo Na had already carried out 96 assassinations before taking a four-year break. They all followed the same pattern, yet the police only start connecting the dots now. Instead of making Bo Na look brilliant, it makes everyone investigating her look unbelievably incompetent.
The first assassination, which should have sold me on the idea of a highly trained sniper, is surprisingly underwhelming. There's almost no preparation, no tension, and none of the ritual that usually makes professional assassins fascinating to watch.
Episode 2 answers a few questions. We learn that she still trains, has a support team, and isn't a contract killer but a vigilante targeting criminals who have already been tried and sentenced by the Korean justice system. The organization simply decides those sentences weren't severe enough and replaces them with execution. That could have been an interesting moral dilemma, but so far the series seems more interested in justifying the killings than exploring the ethical implications.
One more observation: so far, every single target has been a man—the abusive father, convicted criminals who received lighter sentences, and even the supermarket harasser. I'm not drawing any conclusions; I'm simply pointing out what the series has shown in its first two episodes.
At the moment, the show feels like a blend of Death Wish, The Long Kiss Goodnight, and a bit of Mr. & Mrs. Smith, but without developing an identity of its own.
The premise had potential. Unfortunately, after two episodes, the execution hasn't lived up to it.
The chemistry between the two leads is still the best part of the series. Whenever they're together, the comedy works naturally and the show feels genuinely entertaining. The problem is that, once they're apart, it turns into a fairly generic supernatural romance.
What bothered me the most were the forced encounters. The classic "waking up in the same bed" cliché happens way too early and relies on so many convenient coincidences that it completely breaks the natural feeling established in Episode 1. Later, another scene on an escalator does the exact same thing, using an over-the-top slow-motion rescue to manufacture a romantic moment instead of earning it.
It's not a bad show. The leads have great chemistry, and they're genuinely funny together. But Episode 2 gave me the impression that the writers don't fully trust that chemistry, so they keep relying on clichés and artificial situations to bring the characters together.
I'm still interested in watching more, but after this episode, the series no longer feels as fresh as it did at the beginning. If it continues to depend on forced coincidences instead of letting the relationship develop naturally, it may end up becoming just another average romantic drama.
That leaves only about 20 minutes for the two main leads to actually interact and develop their relationship in the present timeline. In other words, only about 18% of the first two episodes has been spent building the central romance.
This isn't a judgment on the entire series. It's simply an observation about how the story has allocated its screen time so far, and I think it explains why the reunion still hasn't fully taken off for me.
Dream to You begins as a story about reunion and second chances: two young people who once shared both a romance and the dream of becoming directors, only for their lives to take completely different paths for ten years.
The main problem with the first episode is its pacing. The series spends a long opening segment on their teenage romance, and once it finally reaches the present, it continues relying heavily on flashbacks. Instead of allowing the reunion to move forward, the narrative keeps returning to the past, constantly disrupting the flow of the episode.
The series also owes us a convincing explanation for ten years without contact. In what appears to be a contemporary setting, it is difficult to believe that two people who meant so much to each other could simply disappear from each other's lives for an entire decade—especially when he becomes an internationally recognized director and she becomes a reporter.
It is only the first episode, and there is still a lot left to explain, so it is far too early to judge the series as a whole. But after all the hype and the massive marketing push surrounding the lead couple, the premiere, so far, feels more built around nostalgia than genuine chemistry in the present.
At first, we have a protagonist who runs an illegal casino: expensive suits, henchmen everywhere, and that whole powerful-man image that, frankly, I’m already tired of.
But then the real story begins.
The protagonist needs a huge amount of money and discovers that an apartment complex has a 17 billion won reserve fund. To get his hands on it, he needs to become the complex manager. The problem is that, to pull it off, he has to present himself as a respectable family man.
So he gets himself a fake wife.
And while he’s at it, a fake son, fake uncles... an entire fake family.
And that’s when Apartment starts to work.
This group may know about casinos, business, and scams, but pretending to be a family is a completely different matter. During their family photo shoot, the photographer tells the boy to go to his dad... and the kid walks over to his real father instead of the protagonist, who is supposed to be playing his dad.
His fake mother, however? He falls in love with her immediately.
And for me, the biggest reason to keep watching is Ha Yoon Kyung. She has extraordinary comic flair. Her expressions, reactions, and the way she responds to all the absurdity around her carry a large part of the show.
So yes, in the end, this is another contract-marriage rom-com. But this time, the marriage is part of a much bigger scam, involving an entirely fake family that has to convince a whole apartment complex that they are perfectly normal people.
The first two episodes aren’t perfect, and the series takes too long to show its hand, but once it does...
This looks like it could be a lot of fun.
Episode 5 of Super Agent 66, the fearless operative of ultra-counterintelligence.
The episode starts with... a flashback.
Agent Kim faces about 25 enemies. Cut. We return to the scene and he's standing there with a bloody knife while all 25 guys are lying on the floor. And the fight? Where did it go?
Then... flashback.
Then a fight with the revenge-driven North Korean agent.
Then... flashback.
Then the revenge-driven agent forgives Agent 66.
Then... flashback.
Then we're back with the daughter.
Then... flashback.
Then the daughter escapes.
Then, thank God, no more flashbacks.
Then the supporting cast shows up.
Then the daughter asks for help on the highway... and, of course, gets into the truck of one of the bad guys.
End of Episode 5.
Wow... and this is Netflix's #1 series.
The series tells us that he was recruited as a child by North Korea and trained to become a legendary hitman. That's where the contradiction begins.
Spy fiction usually presents its protagonists within a very clear archetype. You have special operations agents like Jason Bourne, Ethan Hunt, James Bond, or Bryan Mills, whose greatest strength is completing the mission through intelligence, infiltration, and adaptability.
Then you have professional assassins like John Wick, Léon, Vincent from *Collateral*, or The Jackal, whose defining trait is their ruthless efficiency at eliminating targets.
Agent 66 doesn't convincingly fit either category. He doesn't behave like a legendary hitman, but he also never demonstrates the extraordinary tactical intelligence of a top-tier intelligence operative. Instead, the series relies on dramatic stares, long silences, and "tough guy" poses to sell his reputation. The problem is that legends are built through actions, not attitude.
If you removed every line of dialogue telling us that Agent 66 was the greatest of the great, I honestly wouldn't believe it based on what we actually see him do.
I think the writers wanted us to admire him for his deadly past while simultaneously presenting him as a clean, universally likable hero. In doing so, they softened the very qualities that supposedly made him legendary.
My criticism is not that he doesn't kill enough people. Nor am I saying every protagonist needs to be violent. My issue is much simpler: the character's present-day behavior doesn't match the past that the series itself created for him.
For me, that's the biggest weakness of the show.
Despite its outstanding ratings, this series has become a fan favorite while, in my opinion, remaining painfully mediocre.
We get a shootout where well over 100 rounds are fired and nobody gets hit. Then come the usual one-man-army fight scenes. And let's not even talk about the daughter: she hits her head, everyone assumes she's dead, yet nobody bothers to check if she's breathing, has a pulse, is losing color, or if her body has started to cool down. Hours later, she wakes up as if she had just taken a nap.
After following clue after clue, our super agent 86... sorry, this one's Agent 66... finally finds a lead that could take him to his daughter. He rushes out of the building in desperation... and takes a taxi. Because apparently stealing a car when every second counts would be crossing the line.
And, of course, more flashbacks. Agent Kim, the villain, the gangster, the neighbor... it feels like everyone in the cast gets one.
As I've always said, high ratings only tell you how many people enjoyed a series—not how well it's written.
By the end of Episode 2, we already have the kidnapping, the conspiracy against the husband, the kidnapper's identity, and a villain who is always one step ahead. My first thought wasn't "I can't wait for Episode 3." It was:
"So... what are the other 10 episodes supposed to be about?"
Everything points toward the same repetitive cycle: false leads, the husband trying to prove his innocence, and a kidnapper who succeeds not because he's exceptionally clever, but because the script keeps handing him perfect coincidences.
The kidnapping itself already stretches credibility. A physically capable woman is abducted in broad daylight without anyone noticing, without meaningful resistance, and without leaving any convincing trace.
Then there's the manipulated video. In an era of AI, deepfakes, and basic video editing, watching the authorities treat such an obviously questionable piece of evidence as if it were conclusive feels more like a plot shortcut than an actual investigation.
When a villain wins because every other character suddenly becomes less competent, the suspense disappears. Instead of watching a battle of wits, you're watching the script force everyone into convenient decisions just to reach the next cliffhanger.
Unfortunately, after only two episodes, I wasn't excited to continue. I felt like the story had already shown me its entire hand.
The breakup with the ex is supposed to be emotional, but the relationship was never developed enough for me to care. The series keeps trying to manufacture emotions with hugs, tears, sad music, and slow-motion acting instead of earning them through good writing.
The office comedy is built from the same scenes we've seen countless times in this genre. The gossiping coworkers, the awkward reactions, the exaggerated expressions... everything feels mechanical, as if everyone is following a familiar rom-com checklist instead of behaving like real people.
The main couple also lacks the chemistry and charisma needed to carry a romantic comedy, and the performances—especially in the emotional scenes—never convinced me. I rarely criticize acting, but here it became impossible to ignore.
Four episodes in, it feels less like a story and more like a collection of recycled rom-com tropes without a personality of its own.