This review may contain spoilers
Bad Buddy: Collateral Damage
Bad Buddy is beloved by BL fans, and rightly so. Its charismatic, natural performances fit the characters as if they were written for the obvious onscreen chemistry of the two leads, Ohm and Nanon. When you add Aof’s trademark cinematic vision and emotional depth, you have a BL series that continues to resonate around the world.
It took me one or two episodes to begin to really appreciate it. As someone who works in academia, “a dangerous gang of architecture students” is … a bit of a stretch. Besides, if you’re going to do the Sharks versus the Jets, at least dance to music.
After the rival armies were nudged to the side, however, I was able to focus more on the story and characters. One thing that makes “Bad Buddy” more interesting - and more poignant - than most enemies-to-lovers stories is that, in a way, there’s nothing personal between them. Instead, they are both fighting a battle their parents started; Pat (played by Ohm) and Pran (played by Nanon) are merely collateral damage.
What makes the heavy weight of parental expectations believable is the performances of the two leads. Nanon is achingly subtle. You can feel the tension and pain Pran experiences as he tries to internally rationalize loyalty to his parents with his growing, if confused, pull toward Pat.
And Ohm … Ohm is a revelation. As an actor, he is grounded and warm, and the camera loves him. That’s a good thing because he is forced to do much of the heavy lifting. Pat becomes aware of his feelings first and throughout the series, Pat emotionally puts himself on the line and does the work of trying to build a relationship against the weight of their families' feud.
In contrast, Pran responds with passivity and hesitation. Pat takes bold steps forward, Pran refuses to reciprocate, and the dynamic stalls because the emotional labor isn’t shared. That’s not a reflection on Nanon’s acting; you see his internal struggle. It does, however, place an almost unfair burden on Ohm’s character—and on Ohm as an actor—to constantly generate the momentum needed to keep the romance from collapsing. It’s a testament to Ohm’s ability that he could carry much of the show without breaking a sweat.
One small moment stays with me. Pran rejects him once again, saying “I don’t want to be friends with you,” and Pat says, softly, almost to himself “Why not? I have many good qualities….” Haven’t we all thought that? Haven’t we all wondered why someone doesn’t like us? Haven’t we all thought “I’m a nice guy, I’m kind to dogs, I recycle…why doesn’t that person like me?” That one, very small moment was deeply, deeply human.
That works because Aof is not afraid of small, quiet, unpretentious moments. Instead of introducing big “D” Drama, Aof reduces a generation-long conflict to its core: two souls trying to find each other.
This reveals Aof’s genius for visual storytelling. He lets the camera do the work. His lingering closeups, beautiful color and shadow, and use of space make scenes feel intimate instead of staged. When Pat and Pran speak, Aof lets them speak, but when they are quiet, Aof lets you know what they’re feeling without a word being spoken.
And that, I think, is an important clue as to its lasting appeal. By giving us unsaid truths, Aof trusts his actors, he trusts his audience, and he treats them with respect. That respect transforms a simple BL youth story into something that continues to resonate.
It took me one or two episodes to begin to really appreciate it. As someone who works in academia, “a dangerous gang of architecture students” is … a bit of a stretch. Besides, if you’re going to do the Sharks versus the Jets, at least dance to music.
After the rival armies were nudged to the side, however, I was able to focus more on the story and characters. One thing that makes “Bad Buddy” more interesting - and more poignant - than most enemies-to-lovers stories is that, in a way, there’s nothing personal between them. Instead, they are both fighting a battle their parents started; Pat (played by Ohm) and Pran (played by Nanon) are merely collateral damage.
What makes the heavy weight of parental expectations believable is the performances of the two leads. Nanon is achingly subtle. You can feel the tension and pain Pran experiences as he tries to internally rationalize loyalty to his parents with his growing, if confused, pull toward Pat.
And Ohm … Ohm is a revelation. As an actor, he is grounded and warm, and the camera loves him. That’s a good thing because he is forced to do much of the heavy lifting. Pat becomes aware of his feelings first and throughout the series, Pat emotionally puts himself on the line and does the work of trying to build a relationship against the weight of their families' feud.
In contrast, Pran responds with passivity and hesitation. Pat takes bold steps forward, Pran refuses to reciprocate, and the dynamic stalls because the emotional labor isn’t shared. That’s not a reflection on Nanon’s acting; you see his internal struggle. It does, however, place an almost unfair burden on Ohm’s character—and on Ohm as an actor—to constantly generate the momentum needed to keep the romance from collapsing. It’s a testament to Ohm’s ability that he could carry much of the show without breaking a sweat.
One small moment stays with me. Pran rejects him once again, saying “I don’t want to be friends with you,” and Pat says, softly, almost to himself “Why not? I have many good qualities….” Haven’t we all thought that? Haven’t we all wondered why someone doesn’t like us? Haven’t we all thought “I’m a nice guy, I’m kind to dogs, I recycle…why doesn’t that person like me?” That one, very small moment was deeply, deeply human.
That works because Aof is not afraid of small, quiet, unpretentious moments. Instead of introducing big “D” Drama, Aof reduces a generation-long conflict to its core: two souls trying to find each other.
This reveals Aof’s genius for visual storytelling. He lets the camera do the work. His lingering closeups, beautiful color and shadow, and use of space make scenes feel intimate instead of staged. When Pat and Pran speak, Aof lets them speak, but when they are quiet, Aof lets you know what they’re feeling without a word being spoken.
And that, I think, is an important clue as to its lasting appeal. By giving us unsaid truths, Aof trusts his actors, he trusts his audience, and he treats them with respect. That respect transforms a simple BL youth story into something that continues to resonate.
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