This review may contain spoilers
TharnType: Proof That Popular Doesn’t Mean Good
Rewatching TharnType after five years was like opening a time capsule, only to discover it’s full of mold. Back in 2020, this was one of the first BL series I ever watched. Without much to compare it to, I took it at face value and even enjoyed it. But now, after a hundred shows and a far better sense of what makes a compelling romance, I can finally evaluate it with the clarity of hindsight — and wow, does this not hold up.
The love story? Nonexistent. The characters? Either baffling, morally questionable, or both. The fact that this show somehow got a sequel, one that dares to suggest the main couple stayed together for seven years, is comedy gold — except it’s not funny, just sad.
The “romance” rests on a foundation so flimsy it collapses under the weight of basic logic. In episode one, Type is established as someone with deep, long-term trauma. By episode… what, three? Four? He’s suddenly entertaining romantic interest in another man, as if years of suffering have been magically erased. Why? Because the script says so.
If this sudden shift had been toward a genuinely kind, respectful partner, maybe I could accept it — love can surprise you like that. But Tharn is not that partner. He bulldozes over Type’s boundaries, sexually harasses him despite knowing his past, and still ends up in his bed, because apparently consent is optional if the plot needs a push. Type’s bizarre justification — having sex with Tharn to “repay a debt” — raises deeply disturbing questions about how this show understands relationships.
And don’t get me started on the age-gap subplot. Adult Tharn pursuing a younger student? Disturbing. The backstory normalizing underage sexual relationships (Tharn and Tar) is even worse. These are not romantic quirks. They’re giant red flags that the show treats with alarming casualness.
Characters: Everyone Needs Therapy, Not a Boyfriend
Yes, Type is a jerk — arrogant, selfish, and in desperate need of anger management. But none of that excuses Tharn’s behavior. The real mystery is how Type, who initially resisted same-sex relationships so fiercely, somehow fought to keep this one alive. It’s a relationship built on unresolved trauma, power imbalances, and moments that feel more like coercion than romance.
The only bright spots here are Gulf as Type, Mild as Techno, and Kaownah as Lhong. Gulf, in particular, delivers a performance far better than the writing deserved, carrying scenes with emotional weight even when the dialogue is insulting to the viewer’s intelligence. No matter how good Mew is as an actor, I couldn’t stand Tharn. His presence in a scene had me bracing for yet another boundary violation.
Music? Forgettable. Cinematography? Bland. The show loves lingering, uncomfortable kissing close-ups and random shots of hands, as if those are a substitute for genuine intimacy. Scenes that should have developed the characters are replaced with raw, oversexualized moments that feel more voyeuristic than romantic.
Would I recommend this? Absolutely not. Especially not to viewers with trauma, bad relationship experiences, or just a low tolerance for toxic dynamics masquerading as romance. This isn’t a sweet love story you binge in a weekend; it’s a heavy, unpleasant slog that leaves you feeling more drained than entertained.
Score: 2/10 — and that’s only for the actors who somehow managed to stay afloat in this sinking ship. If you have to choose between TharnType and literally anything else, save yourself the headache and pick anything else.
The love story? Nonexistent. The characters? Either baffling, morally questionable, or both. The fact that this show somehow got a sequel, one that dares to suggest the main couple stayed together for seven years, is comedy gold — except it’s not funny, just sad.
The “romance” rests on a foundation so flimsy it collapses under the weight of basic logic. In episode one, Type is established as someone with deep, long-term trauma. By episode… what, three? Four? He’s suddenly entertaining romantic interest in another man, as if years of suffering have been magically erased. Why? Because the script says so.
If this sudden shift had been toward a genuinely kind, respectful partner, maybe I could accept it — love can surprise you like that. But Tharn is not that partner. He bulldozes over Type’s boundaries, sexually harasses him despite knowing his past, and still ends up in his bed, because apparently consent is optional if the plot needs a push. Type’s bizarre justification — having sex with Tharn to “repay a debt” — raises deeply disturbing questions about how this show understands relationships.
And don’t get me started on the age-gap subplot. Adult Tharn pursuing a younger student? Disturbing. The backstory normalizing underage sexual relationships (Tharn and Tar) is even worse. These are not romantic quirks. They’re giant red flags that the show treats with alarming casualness.
Characters: Everyone Needs Therapy, Not a Boyfriend
Yes, Type is a jerk — arrogant, selfish, and in desperate need of anger management. But none of that excuses Tharn’s behavior. The real mystery is how Type, who initially resisted same-sex relationships so fiercely, somehow fought to keep this one alive. It’s a relationship built on unresolved trauma, power imbalances, and moments that feel more like coercion than romance.
The only bright spots here are Gulf as Type, Mild as Techno, and Kaownah as Lhong. Gulf, in particular, delivers a performance far better than the writing deserved, carrying scenes with emotional weight even when the dialogue is insulting to the viewer’s intelligence. No matter how good Mew is as an actor, I couldn’t stand Tharn. His presence in a scene had me bracing for yet another boundary violation.
Music? Forgettable. Cinematography? Bland. The show loves lingering, uncomfortable kissing close-ups and random shots of hands, as if those are a substitute for genuine intimacy. Scenes that should have developed the characters are replaced with raw, oversexualized moments that feel more voyeuristic than romantic.
Would I recommend this? Absolutely not. Especially not to viewers with trauma, bad relationship experiences, or just a low tolerance for toxic dynamics masquerading as romance. This isn’t a sweet love story you binge in a weekend; it’s a heavy, unpleasant slog that leaves you feeling more drained than entertained.
Score: 2/10 — and that’s only for the actors who somehow managed to stay afloat in this sinking ship. If you have to choose between TharnType and literally anything else, save yourself the headache and pick anything else.
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