This review may contain spoilers
Youthful, Wholesome, and Endearingly Campy
Good Morning Call embraces every classic trope of a Japanese high-school rom-com — the awkwardness, the overreactions, the innocent longing — and somehow turns it into something genuinely sweet. It’s undeniably campy, occasionally ridiculous, and absolutely leaning into its tween-friendly tone… but that’s also where its charm lies.
The female lead is the heart of the show. She’s bright, kind, earnest to a fault — the kind of girl who feels everything deeply and expresses it without filters. Her goofiness is often exaggerated for humor, and sometimes the drama pushes it too far (even leaning into full caricature), but beneath all the silliness is a sincere, soft-hearted character trying her best to navigate first love without losing herself.
Opposite her is the male lead, whose frosty exterior and self-centered habits make him hard to like at first. He’s cold, awkward, and hopeless at emotional expression — not cruel, just reserved and overly pragmatic in a way that comes off harsher than he means. The show doesn’t excuse his behavior, nor does it pretend it’s ideal; instead, it slowly unravels the truth that he’s clumsy in his own way… a typical teenage boy painfully afraid to be vulnerable and quietly learning how to care.
Second-male lead syndrome was nearly unavoidable, because Daichi is so kind, gentle, and consistently thoughtful toward Nao. His warmth is the calm, steady counterpoint to the Uehara’s prickly pride, and it’s hard not to wonder what if every time he shows up. Their connection feels safe in a way the main pairing never does. And the same can be said for the ramen-shop boy Itchan in the second half. He brings another wave of that straightforward, quietly attentive energy that the male lead just does not have on tap.
But in a sense, that’s part of the charm of this drama. What does work beautifully for the main couple is how they change each other. Her warmth and passion draws him out; his logic and steadiness gives her a place to grow. Their dynamic is messy, young, and unpolished — exactly as high-school love should be. The missteps and immaturities are part of the point, and the small ways they soften for one another make the journey surprisingly sweet.
Chemistry isn’t always about the safest match — sometimes it’s about stumbling, misunderstanding, and growing side by side. And as much as Daichi sets the bar with his quiet devotion, I still understood why her heart went where it did. Though, let’s be REAL… without Daichi acting as the emotional shock absorber half the time, those two might never have figured it out. Uehara’s pride nearly sank the ship more than once. 🤷🏼♀️
It’s cute. It’s wholesome. It’s very, very high school. And despite all its camp, there’s real heart tucked between the exaggerated reactions and the teenage melodrama.
Not a perfect series, but definitely a charming one.
The female lead is the heart of the show. She’s bright, kind, earnest to a fault — the kind of girl who feels everything deeply and expresses it without filters. Her goofiness is often exaggerated for humor, and sometimes the drama pushes it too far (even leaning into full caricature), but beneath all the silliness is a sincere, soft-hearted character trying her best to navigate first love without losing herself.
Opposite her is the male lead, whose frosty exterior and self-centered habits make him hard to like at first. He’s cold, awkward, and hopeless at emotional expression — not cruel, just reserved and overly pragmatic in a way that comes off harsher than he means. The show doesn’t excuse his behavior, nor does it pretend it’s ideal; instead, it slowly unravels the truth that he’s clumsy in his own way… a typical teenage boy painfully afraid to be vulnerable and quietly learning how to care.
Second-male lead syndrome was nearly unavoidable, because Daichi is so kind, gentle, and consistently thoughtful toward Nao. His warmth is the calm, steady counterpoint to the Uehara’s prickly pride, and it’s hard not to wonder what if every time he shows up. Their connection feels safe in a way the main pairing never does. And the same can be said for the ramen-shop boy Itchan in the second half. He brings another wave of that straightforward, quietly attentive energy that the male lead just does not have on tap.
But in a sense, that’s part of the charm of this drama. What does work beautifully for the main couple is how they change each other. Her warmth and passion draws him out; his logic and steadiness gives her a place to grow. Their dynamic is messy, young, and unpolished — exactly as high-school love should be. The missteps and immaturities are part of the point, and the small ways they soften for one another make the journey surprisingly sweet.
Chemistry isn’t always about the safest match — sometimes it’s about stumbling, misunderstanding, and growing side by side. And as much as Daichi sets the bar with his quiet devotion, I still understood why her heart went where it did. Though, let’s be REAL… without Daichi acting as the emotional shock absorber half the time, those two might never have figured it out. Uehara’s pride nearly sank the ship more than once. 🤷🏼♀️
It’s cute. It’s wholesome. It’s very, very high school. And despite all its camp, there’s real heart tucked between the exaggerated reactions and the teenage melodrama.
Not a perfect series, but definitely a charming one.
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