This review may contain spoilers
That it’s one of the best movies ever
There are movies you watch once, enjoy, and then forget within a week. And then there are movies like Always—the kind that stays with you long after the credits roll, quietly replaying in your mind when you least expect it. I went into this film knowing almost nothing except that it was a South Korean romance, and I walked away feeling like I had just been given a story that mattered.
The premise is deceptively simple. Chul-min (played by So Ji-sub) is a former boxer with a troubled past, now living a solitary and somewhat aimless life. One evening, while working as a parking lot attendant, he meets Jung-hwa (Han Hyo-joo), a young woman who is losing her sight. She’s vibrant and warm despite her situation, and their meeting feels like fate—messy, awkward fate, but fate nonetheless.
From there, the film slowly builds a relationship between them that’s both tender and believable. It’s not the kind of romance where sparks fly instantly and everything is perfect. It’s hesitant at first, filled with quiet conversations, small acts of kindness, and a growing trust that feels earned rather than forced. You can see the way Chul-min begins to open up, and how Jung-hwa’s optimism starts to chip away at his guarded heart.
The performances are what really sell this story. So Ji-sub doesn’t play Chul-min as some overly dramatic, tortured soul—he keeps him grounded, understated, and very human. Han Hyo-joo brings an infectious warmth to Jung-hwa, making her someone you can’t help but care about. Their chemistry is gentle, not loud or flashy, which makes the emotional beats hit that much harder.
Visually, the film uses a lot of close-ups and warm tones, giving it an intimate feel. The pacing is slow—there’s no rushing to get to “the good part” because the whole thing is the good part. Every scene feels like it’s there for a reason, even if that reason is just to let you spend more time with these characters.
Of course, this is a romance, but it’s also a story about redemption and the lengths people will go to protect the ones they love. There’s a certain grit that creeps into the narrative, moments where the sweetness is balanced by real danger and sacrifice. Without spoiling too much, I’ll just say the film doesn’t shy away from putting its characters through the wringer, but it also doesn’t leave you hopeless.
By the end, I found myself sitting there, a little teary-eyed, thinking about how rare it is to watch a love story that feels this genuine. Always isn’t just about romance—it’s about how two broken people can find something worth living for in each other. It’s a film that sneaks up on you, tugs at your heart, and leaves you a little different than before you pressed play.
If you’re willing to slow down and let it in, Always will reward you in ways you might not expect.
as for myself, this probably was the best movie I’ve ever seen…
The premise is deceptively simple. Chul-min (played by So Ji-sub) is a former boxer with a troubled past, now living a solitary and somewhat aimless life. One evening, while working as a parking lot attendant, he meets Jung-hwa (Han Hyo-joo), a young woman who is losing her sight. She’s vibrant and warm despite her situation, and their meeting feels like fate—messy, awkward fate, but fate nonetheless.
From there, the film slowly builds a relationship between them that’s both tender and believable. It’s not the kind of romance where sparks fly instantly and everything is perfect. It’s hesitant at first, filled with quiet conversations, small acts of kindness, and a growing trust that feels earned rather than forced. You can see the way Chul-min begins to open up, and how Jung-hwa’s optimism starts to chip away at his guarded heart.
The performances are what really sell this story. So Ji-sub doesn’t play Chul-min as some overly dramatic, tortured soul—he keeps him grounded, understated, and very human. Han Hyo-joo brings an infectious warmth to Jung-hwa, making her someone you can’t help but care about. Their chemistry is gentle, not loud or flashy, which makes the emotional beats hit that much harder.
Visually, the film uses a lot of close-ups and warm tones, giving it an intimate feel. The pacing is slow—there’s no rushing to get to “the good part” because the whole thing is the good part. Every scene feels like it’s there for a reason, even if that reason is just to let you spend more time with these characters.
Of course, this is a romance, but it’s also a story about redemption and the lengths people will go to protect the ones they love. There’s a certain grit that creeps into the narrative, moments where the sweetness is balanced by real danger and sacrifice. Without spoiling too much, I’ll just say the film doesn’t shy away from putting its characters through the wringer, but it also doesn’t leave you hopeless.
By the end, I found myself sitting there, a little teary-eyed, thinking about how rare it is to watch a love story that feels this genuine. Always isn’t just about romance—it’s about how two broken people can find something worth living for in each other. It’s a film that sneaks up on you, tugs at your heart, and leaves you a little different than before you pressed play.
If you’re willing to slow down and let it in, Always will reward you in ways you might not expect.
as for myself, this probably was the best movie I’ve ever seen…
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