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Black Mirror’s cousin, but make it K-drama and less existential dread
I don't know if a review is really required after 8 years, but Circle feels like one of those rare dramas I couldn't finish without writing down my thoughts. Back in 2017, I only made it through the first episode while it was airing, not because it was bad, but because I was still in a drama hangover after finishing Rebel Thief Who Stole the People. Now, 8 years later, I'm kicking myself for waiting this long. With the amount of money Netflix is pouring into Korean sci-fi today, Circle feels even more ahead of its time. It doesn’t lean on flashy CGI, but it doesn’t need to, the sci-fi core is more than strong enough.
From the outside, Circle looks like a drama that tries to squeeze every sci-fi concept into 12 episodes. Aliens? Check. Memory tech? Check. Emotion control, dystopian cities, clones? Double check. But in reality, the concepts stack on top of each other like dominoes. Each one feels like the natural consequence of the one before, creating a chain of ethical dilemmas about memory, identity, and what it means to be human. And because Circle leans into soft sci-fi rather than hard sci-fi, it doesn't pause to explain alien origins or the inner mechanics of the technology. Instead, the tech serves as a backdrop for exploring ethical questions similar to Black Mirror rather than The Martian, for example.
The drama's strength is in using characters to embody those dilemmas. Characters who forget their past wrongs live in harmony, but their peace is built on illusion. Others battle with the question of whether carrying painful memories makes life heavier or more fully human. And some face the question of whether memory or biology defines identity. These character arcs give emotional depth to the high concept premise and keep the drama grounded.
Another strength of the drama is its structure. Circle runs on 2 separate timelines that at first feel disconnected, almost like parallel stories. But as the episodes unfold, threads from the past and future start weaving together, with the bond between the twins serving as the emotional bridge that connects them. The connections grow clearer until they converge in a way that feels both logical and satisfying. It's a storytelling choice that not only heightens the mystery but also makes the eventual payoffs hit harder.
The fundamentals of the show are handled well: the what, who, where, when, and why are clear, and the twists feel like natural outcomes of character traits rather than cheap surprises. Where Circle falters is not in pacing or depth, but in narrative stitching. Again, the emotional beats breathe, the stakes feel urgent, and the questions are answered, but the connective mechanics are often choppy. Key events unfold through abrupt flashbacks as if they were patched in during post production, and sometimes the way characters get from point A to point B stretches believability. The "how" of the story occasionally shows the seam, even as the "why" remains compelling.
What helps smooth those seams is the acting. Yeo Jin Goo anchors the story, Kim Kang Woo adds a layer of grit and intensity, and Gong Seung Yeon carries the emotions naturally without overshadowing the scene. Lee Gi Kwang is fine in parts, though sometimes you can see the effort behind the emotion. Still, the cast does its job, and the side characters add enough humor and humanity to balance the heavy themes.
In the end, Circle is ambitious, emotional, and thought-provoking, though rough around the edges. It's a soft sci-fi at heart, dressed in classic K-drama tropes: flashbacks, cliffhangers, bromance, hints of romance, and the legendary longing gazes backed by an OST swelling as if the fate of humanity depended on it. If Black Mirror is the brooding cousin who ruins Christmas by asking questions that trigger existential dread, Circle is the Seoul cousin who asks the same ones but insists on answering with cliffhangers, tears, and eyes that carry the weight of the moment rather than plunging you into existential dread.
From the outside, Circle looks like a drama that tries to squeeze every sci-fi concept into 12 episodes. Aliens? Check. Memory tech? Check. Emotion control, dystopian cities, clones? Double check. But in reality, the concepts stack on top of each other like dominoes. Each one feels like the natural consequence of the one before, creating a chain of ethical dilemmas about memory, identity, and what it means to be human. And because Circle leans into soft sci-fi rather than hard sci-fi, it doesn't pause to explain alien origins or the inner mechanics of the technology. Instead, the tech serves as a backdrop for exploring ethical questions similar to Black Mirror rather than The Martian, for example.
The drama's strength is in using characters to embody those dilemmas. Characters who forget their past wrongs live in harmony, but their peace is built on illusion. Others battle with the question of whether carrying painful memories makes life heavier or more fully human. And some face the question of whether memory or biology defines identity. These character arcs give emotional depth to the high concept premise and keep the drama grounded.
Another strength of the drama is its structure. Circle runs on 2 separate timelines that at first feel disconnected, almost like parallel stories. But as the episodes unfold, threads from the past and future start weaving together, with the bond between the twins serving as the emotional bridge that connects them. The connections grow clearer until they converge in a way that feels both logical and satisfying. It's a storytelling choice that not only heightens the mystery but also makes the eventual payoffs hit harder.
The fundamentals of the show are handled well: the what, who, where, when, and why are clear, and the twists feel like natural outcomes of character traits rather than cheap surprises. Where Circle falters is not in pacing or depth, but in narrative stitching. Again, the emotional beats breathe, the stakes feel urgent, and the questions are answered, but the connective mechanics are often choppy. Key events unfold through abrupt flashbacks as if they were patched in during post production, and sometimes the way characters get from point A to point B stretches believability. The "how" of the story occasionally shows the seam, even as the "why" remains compelling.
What helps smooth those seams is the acting. Yeo Jin Goo anchors the story, Kim Kang Woo adds a layer of grit and intensity, and Gong Seung Yeon carries the emotions naturally without overshadowing the scene. Lee Gi Kwang is fine in parts, though sometimes you can see the effort behind the emotion. Still, the cast does its job, and the side characters add enough humor and humanity to balance the heavy themes.
In the end, Circle is ambitious, emotional, and thought-provoking, though rough around the edges. It's a soft sci-fi at heart, dressed in classic K-drama tropes: flashbacks, cliffhangers, bromance, hints of romance, and the legendary longing gazes backed by an OST swelling as if the fate of humanity depended on it. If Black Mirror is the brooding cousin who ruins Christmas by asking questions that trigger existential dread, Circle is the Seoul cousin who asks the same ones but insists on answering with cliffhangers, tears, and eyes that carry the weight of the moment rather than plunging you into existential dread.
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