Tanky Toon

This is a drama that shines brightest when it focuses on its younger characters. The early episodes build a compelling emotional core around Bong‑seok, Hui‑soo, and Gang‑hoon, grounding their powers in vulnerability, survival, and family bonds. Their present‑day struggles carry urgency and heart, and the show feels most alive when it follows their attempts to navigate danger, secrecy, and adolescence. Whenever the story centers on them, the pacing is tight and the emotional stakes feel real.

But this drama also wants to be a thoughtful superhero drama, but half the time it’s paranoia in a trench coat. The show builds its world on preemptive punishment—eliminating people not for what they’ve done, but for what they might do—dressed up as national security. It’s less “protect the future” and more “kill first, justify later.” Powers are framed as curses, not gifts, which could’ve been compelling if the series didn’t keep circling the same moral drain without adding anything new. Ironically, the story feels most alive when it stops philosophizing and simply follows the kids trying to survive the mess adults created.

For me, the school bullying arc is where the show’s moral compass wobbles hardest. Hui‑soo gets expelled after being attacked by seventeen students—on camera—because she dared to fight back. If she didn’t have powers, she’d be dead. Meanwhile, the bullies walk away untouched. For a drama that pretends to care about justice, the takeaway is uncomfortably tone‑deaf: victims should endure abuse quietly unless they’re superhuman. It’s a frustrating contrast to the kids’ otherwise grounded, emotionally resonant arcs, which carry the show whenever they’re on screen.

Then comes the adult backstory block, a pacing sinkhole that nearly derails the momentum. Tragic spies, doomed love, institutional betrayal—yes, it adds context, but it drags. Doo‑sik’s fate is cruel in a way that feels more exhausting than impactful, and the show never explains why the bus‑driving Beungeman is still employed after demolishing public property. By the time the narrative returns to the present, the action ramps up so aggressively that the final stretch becomes a blur of blood, bodies, and battles that go on far too long.

Despite the uneven pacing, Moving delivers powerful thematic payoffs. The downfall of the corrupt leadership is satisfying, and the unexpected alliances — like former enemies becoming family, or past bullies stepping up to protect the very kids they once tormented — give the finale emotional weight. These moments highlight the show’s core message: institutions exploit, but individuals can choose loyalty, growth, and connection.