In our ultra-connected digital age, you’ll be hard-pressed to find many artists who haven’t shared the entirety of their journeys with their fans online. In the moment, that’s no bad thing – seeing every angle of your favourite act’s story can make you feel closer to them, make you relate to them even more and strengthen your love for them. But should said artist later come to release an official documentary recapping their career so far, it presents a particular problem – how do you create a piece that not only hits the key highlights for the casual or new fan, but also offers something fresh and unseen for the hardcore follower?

• READ MORE: The 25 best K-pop songs of 2023

BTS’ story has been more well-documented than most. Over the last 10 years, the boyband have shared everything and more – from pre-debut vlogs, behind-the-scenes clips of music video shoots, time spent in green rooms and time killed between schedules, tour documentaries, livestreams sharing their current thoughts, feelings and activities and so much more. HYBE and Disney+’s new docu-series BTS Monuments: Beyond The Star has a tough challenge to beat, then.

Although many of the scenes in the first two episodes will likely be familiar to most fans (given the footage has largely been used in the above releases), the 10-part series goes to the heart of BTS to offer up a new take – the members themselves. As the episodes dovetail through the band’s chronology, each of the seven rappers and singers shares their reflections on their experiences and how they impacted on what came next. Some of these musings have been broadcast before, like their sweet declarations of no longer just being bandmates, colleagues and friends but family. But as the series progresses, more fresh insight comes to the fore.

Episode one is titled ‘The Beginning’, yet it starts not in 2013 but in 2020, as BTS are preparing to make a comeback with ‘Map Of The Soul: 7’. There are clips of leader RM making grand statements at press conferences and in TV interviews (“Some people still say art cannot change the world,” he says at the BTS Connect launch. “But we still believe in the power of art”), fans excitedly and nervously trying to get tickets for the ‘Map Of The Soul’ tour, and the band’s gutted reaction when they were told the opening shows of that tour were cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

The series sets up 2020 as a pivotal year. Forced to a halt, along with the rest of the world, it became a reflective time for the group. “I think it was a time meant to study ourselves again,” J-hope explains, as he and his bandmates note that period helped them realise how much they love what they do. As those reflections tumble forth, the doc rewinds the clock and takes us back to BTS’ 2013 debut and the trials and successes they went through in the years following.

We see them working themselves to the bone and catching minutes of sleep whenever they can; feeling the pressure that, if they didn’t make a bigger breakthrough in 2014, their time might come to an end; levelling up through Seoul’s venues; the contrast of making waves internationally and the internal struggles they were dealing with at the time. Bang Si-hyuk, HYBE founder and the man behind BTS, offers his own input to the story, as does Myeong-seok Kang, author of the recent Beyond The Story: 10-Year Record of BTS book.

By the end of episode two, though, we’re already back in 2020. Perhaps future episodes will head back in time again but, as it stands, it feels like a lightning-fast recapping that could dig a little bit deeper. This quick pace, however, suggests Beyond The Star will spend much of its focus on the group’s later years. There’ll be no lack of story there, but that conundrum of providing something new could throw a spanner in the works of this otherwise zippy and enjoyable docu-series.

BTS Monument: Beyond The Star is available to stream on Disney+

The post ‘BTS Monument: Beyond The Star’ review: a lightning-quick look at the global sensation appeared first on NME.

For nearly all of Pokémon’s existence, the franchise has been built on battles, championships and becoming the greatest Pokémon master of all time. Pokémon Concierge, however, marks a sharp diversion from that tried and tested formula to a soothing slice-of-life that instead focuses on the joy that these monsters bring into the world.

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The new Netflix series is a welcome addition to the expansive Pokémon universe – its refreshing shift in tone greatly benefits from its stop-motion animation style. Not meant to be taken as seriously as the original Pokémon anime or games, Concierge is a cute, feel-good take on what it’d be like to not just live with these creatures, but to put their needs first, just like you’d do with a pet.

Concierge captures the playful nature of Pokémon when they’re not forced into aggression and made to battle each other – where once we only saw an aloofness in Pikachu, we now get personality quirks for every type of creature – from Pansage, Panpour and Pansear’s mischief to Eevee’s adorable commitment to sunbathing to Rattata’s feistiness. The show also builds on that, giving some Pokémon full arcs of character development and growth.

While the Pokémon Resort seen in Concierge might be a new addition to the franchise, it feels like a fully fleshed out world that’s been around for ages. It has a rich backstory, told in part by the Pokémon that have been inhabiting the resort long before the start of the series – all of which play a part in its ecosystem. Think Pokémon meets Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

Besides the whimsical, carefree feel of Concierge, its attention to detail is also a sight to behold. While the majority of the show’s humans and scenery are sculpted from clay, its Pokémon are crafted out of an array of textures that differ across various Pokémon types. Pokémon Concierge is an immaculately repackaged offering. Its four-episode run is criminally short for such a fully and remarkably realised world, especially considering the incredible voice acting by both its Japanese and English casts and its summery soundtrack (which boasts a brand-new track sung by retired Japanese city-pop icon Mariya Takeuchi).

Its story is a nice change of pace from the source material, too. We’re introduced to Haru, a 20-something who’s in the midst of a career change and learns through the Pokémon Resort how to truly let go of her worries and be in the moment. Through her time at the Resort, Haru is tasked with helping Pokémon live their best lives, leading to her newfound companionship with a shy Psyduck.

If you’re a pet owner, you’ll probably relate more to Haru’s struggles with understanding what Pokémon need than you’ve ever felt with Ash. We get a tidy, complete arc for Haru and Psyduck and along the way are treated to adventures with Pikachu, Dragonite and a slew of other iconic Pokémon. Sure, it’s not the deepest or most complex story told in this universe, but it’s definitely among the most calming.

Though Pikachu and Ash have and will forever be the true mascot duo of the franchise, Concierge proves that there are endless stories begging to be told without them. Forget the battles or chasing the title of Pokémon Master – and step into this fun, fluffy iteration of the Pokémon world.

Pokémon Concierge streams exclusively on Netflix on December 28

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A pair of kids – Sam-dal and Young-pil, who were born on the same day and have the same last name – stand on a talent show stage. When asked what they want to be when they grow up, Sam-dal confidently answers that she wants to be a “dragon”, leaving behind its “small stream” – her analogy for leaving her hometown of Samdal-ri on Jeju Island and flitting off to Seoul, where she’ll forge her own path. Young-pil, however, has no such goals: he’s perfectly content in his “small stream”.

• READ MORE: ‘Sweet Home’ season two review: monstrous return feels like flimsy filler

Shin Hye-sun plays Cho Sam-dal, an ambitious woman who walked away from her small town and the love of her life – no points for guessing who that is – to make it big in metropolitan Seoul as a photographer. Just when she thinks she’s ticked off everything on her checklist, it all comes crashing down when her assistant accuses her of abusing her authority and attempts suicide.

While hiding in her flat, Sam-dal is reminded of a crucial lesson passed down by her haenyeo (a female Korean diver who ventures out to sea to harvest shellfish) mother. “Don’t get greedy in the ocean,” her mother had told her, reminding her to come back up and take a breath when things got too overwhelming. Ironically, it occurs to Sam-dal that she’d been doing the exact opposite. Now, life was forcing her to come back up – or go back home to Jeju, in her case. There awaits Cho Young-pil (Ji Chang-wook), who’s grown up to become a talented weather forecaster, and still continues to hold a candle for Sam-dal.

From the get-go, Welcome to Samdal-ri wears its story on its sleeve: It’s about two people bound together by fate, yet fundamentally different, learning to love in ways that set them free. Both of these characters also have their own complex relationship with the town of Samdal-ri itself – it’s the lighthouse to which all lost souls flock, whether they want to or not.

Samdal-ri also stands as the constant reminder of the death of a great love. For Sam-dal, being back finally forces her to confront the vulnerability and loneliness pervading her life. Young-pil, on the other hand, finds his wounds scraped and bleeding – for the same person, all over again. Yet, this makes the dynamic between Shin Hye-sun and Ji Chang-wook all the more potent.

The biggest credit for this, however, goes to writer Kwon Hye-joo’s sublime, beautifully layered writing. Kwon relies on simple, yet inviting narration – as if the story were being told as a recollection among friends than to an unsuspecting audience. Kwon also doesn’t throw issues and realisations at us so much as gently usher us towards them, making the moment of epiphany all the more sweeter and satisfactory.

Welcome to Samdal-ri is an intimate, beautiful and flawed depiction of love, where you find yourself vacillating between moments of frustration and instances of understanding. Everyone in town knows Sam-dal and Young-pil are still in love with each other, except the pair themselves, who are adamant in their refusal yet hopelessly find themselves in each other’s orbit. We’re not sure whether we’re headed towards a sweet reunion or a bittersweet end, but we sure don’t mind sticking around for this ride.

Welcome to Samdal-ri airs every Saturday and Sunday on JTBC in South Korea. The K-drama is also available to stream on Netflix internationally in select regions.

The post ‘Welcome to Samdal-ri’ review: end the year with this comfort watch appeared first on NME.

A contract marriage with an immortal demon, sexy tango in the middle of the street as our leads beat up goons with their combined special powers and an intriguing power struggle – My Demon is as fun as K-dramas get. While the series is not without its faults, it is one heck of an entertaining ride – sizzling with chemistry, playful banter and well-timed humour.

• READ MORE: ‘Sweet Home’ season two review: monstrous return feels like flimsy filler

My Demon centres around Do Do-hee (Kim Yoo-jung), CEO of Mirae F&B, a subsidiary of the Mirae Group, which is spearheaded by her headstrong adoptive mother Ju Cheon-sook (Kim Hae-sook). An ill-fated matchmaking attempt lands her on a blind date with 200-year-old demon Jeong Gu-won (Song Kang) – but a turn of events binds him and Do-hee together as his tattoo (the source of his power) is transferred to Do-hee.

Right as Do-hee and Gu-won are trying to figure out ways to co-exist, Cheon-sook passes away and leaves the reins of the Mirae empire to Do-hee, on the condition that she gets married within a year of becoming CEO. Cheon-sook’s death sets off a deadly power struggle between Do-hee and her adoptive siblings, who would do anything to prevent Mirae from falling into the hands of an “outsider” like her.

Hellbent on finding the truth about Cheon-sook’s death and tired of being walked over all her life, Do-hee propositions Gu-won for marriage – she would inherit Mirae and a bodyguard, and the latter would have access to his powers.

Instead of being the typical mysterious, dark figure, Song Kang adopts a fresher and funnier approach that complements his youthful appearance. For a demon, he’s far less broody than expected – more a being of chaos and mischief than a bloodthirsty monster. Song Kang is clearly intentional in his approach to Gu-won, reserving the more profound parts of his psyche for his run-ins with Do-hee. That version of Gu-won is more mellow, mature and receptive to the complexities of human nature, something he had largely considered insignificant until now.

Kim Yoo-jung, on the other hand, plays Do Do-hee with a steely grace. She gives as good as she gets, whether it’s staying one step ahead of her scheming siblings or putting a demon in his place. While it may not seem so, Song Kang and Yoo-jung’s characters are far more similar than one would think – compared to the refined masks that everyone else sees, their personal interactions do a stellar job of creating a sliver of space where they are more expressive and livelier. Both Song Kang and Kim Yoo-jung are actors who could have chemistry with a door, and watching them play off one another is simply electrifying.

It’s also impossible not to talk about Kim Hae-sook as Ju Cheon-sook. At first, her character feels reminiscent of her role as Jung So-ra (Yoo Yeon-seok’s mother) in Hospital Playlist, but she cuts through the trope of the genial benefactor with a terrifying shrewdness and surprising sensitivity. We do wish we see more of her in flashbacks, but knowing her character, we’re hoping for her farsightedness to make for a good plot twist or two.

Kudos is also due to the tight storytelling, which keeps you guessing as to who the proverbial final boss could be. There are, of course, some contenders for the role, but the show has set enough of a precedent to make us wary of taking everything at face value. The only issue we really have is with the one-dimensional side characters, making them look more like NPCs rather than fully-fledged persons.

Expectations should also be managed when going into My Demon. A great love story for the ages, compared to the likes of Hotel Del Luna or Goblin, this is not. The show is decidedly modern and far lighter in subject matter. Is My Demon a profound watch? No, but neither is it trying to be. What is is, however, is entertaining, engaging and well-done.

My Demon is available to stream on Netflix in selected regions

The post ‘My Demon’ review: devilishly entertaining romcom K-drama appeared first on NME.

It’s been three long years since Sweet Home first took over our screens with horror-filled scenes of humans turning into monsters – and turning on each other. The first season was a huge hit and became the first K-drama to make it into Netflix’s Top 10 shows in the US upon release, a feat that has since been achieved by numerous other dramas. Season two, then, seems primed for yet more big things but, with such a long gap between its successful first season and the next instalment, it needs to deliver something that feels worth the wait.

• READ MORE: ‘Daily Dose of Sunshine’ review: an earnest, destigmatising portrayal of mental health

The new episodes pick up in the immediate aftermath of season one. Cha Hyun-su (played by Song Kang) has been resisting a full transition to monsterhood and has surrendered himself to the military in a bid to help his fellow Green Home residents escape. Unfortunately, not everyone in the building has the group’s best interests at heart and the self-serving actions of Ryu Jae-hwan (Lee Joon-woo) have led to the residents’ capture by the army, who plan to take them to a shelter for survivors.

It’s a straightforward enough premise – until, that is, the groups get on the move. As the survivors are ferried through a dystopian Seoul and arrive at the shelter, things get dicey. Soldiers take anyone with a nosebleed – one of the initial signs they’re about to lose their human form – to the side and beat them or shoot them. Far ahead, the arrival of a grotesque, gigantic monster sends the survivors running, but the discovery of a baby monster tests what’s left of the soldier’s humanity.

Hyun-su, meanwhile, is being taken to a facility where “special infectees” are being tested on under the guise of creating a vaccine to beat this monstrous affliction. On the way, though, he discovers the man driving his tank is season one’s half-human half-monster Jung Ui-myeong, who has taken over former Green Home resident Pyeon Sang-wook’s (Lee Jin-uk) body. The revelation kickstarts a battle between the pair that underpins much of the season.

The fight between soldiers and civilians lasts three episodes, after which point Sweet Home leaps ahead a year. Now, the survivors are living in the bowels of the Olympic Stadium, a faction of the military looking after them (and keeping them in check). New characters are introduced by the bucketload, expanding the show’s world out from Green Home to encompass a much wider scope.

That would be all well and good if it was done effectively. Frustratingly, though, we’re not given enough reason to care about many of these new additions – their backstories aren’t fleshed out enough and it’s hard to keep track of who’s who as the story continues. The plot, too, is chaotic and hard to follow. Some incidents along the way seem to have little to no bearing on what comes next, as if they’ve just been added for a dramatic peak and then forgotten. Others feel important but come with no explanation, the viewer left to figure out what on earth is happening – not always a bad thing, but when so much other confusion surrounds them, it would be nice to get some hints.

As the series broadens its vision, it loses the focus that the first season had. Even the monsters – the thing the whole show is centred around – feel undercooked; creatures appear for an epic fight scene every now and then, and then disappear. Although the soldiers have worked out there are different types of monster, there’s no exploration into the logic or science behind this or what makes someone turn into what kind.

For all the confusion and chaos, season two does give us some good performances. Go Min-si is a force to be reckoned with as Lee Eun-yu, who is determined to find her brother Eun-hyeok, even after returning to the rubble of their former home. She puts up a steely, unflinching front for most of the season, but the moments where she lets her emotions pierce through her armour are some of the most affecting of these new episodes. Lee Si-young also shines as Seo Yi-kyung, who goes on a conflicted journey of her own as her pregnancy takes a big twist.

Ultimately, Sweet Home season two feels less like a blockbuster sequel and more like a stepping stone to season three, which was filmed back-to-back with these episodes. Hopefully, that next part of the story will live up to season one’s gripping outing and put the focus back on creating a compelling, cohesive plot.

Sweet Home season two is available exclusively on Netflix

The post ‘Sweet Home’ season two review: monstrous return feels like flimsy filler appeared first on NME.

During his MI5 medical exam, Gary Oldman’s scruffy spook Jackson Lamb tells his doctor he’s quit smoking. “Really?!” the doctor says, suspiciously surprised. “Yeah… I haven’t had one for 27 minutes now.” “What about alcohol intake?” the doctor wonders, eyebrow aloft. “Two to three bottles a week.” Not bottles of beer or lager, he implies, but bottles of wine and whiskey. The doctor asks him to get on the treadmill. “You put me on a treadmill, you’ll be done for manslaughter,” Lamb retorts, in his grimy yellow underwear.

Lamb is about as far away from the tuxedo-wearing, Savile Row-tailored James Bond as you can get and yet, he’s the best spy we’ve had on screen for years. This may yet turn out to be the role of Oldman’s life – a high bar in an Oscar-winning career as illustrious as his. Like the lead in some old film noir, Lamb is cunning and clever like a fox, knows every trick in the book and has an in-built bullshit detector that few dare to cross. He’s also hilariously disgusting. This season we see him washing his armpits in a sink with washing-up liquid and weaponising his flatulence in the best way possible: by letting rip a huge fart in a rich person’s Rolls Royce.

This is the best season of Slow Horses yet and Oldman’s Lamb is central to this. His character goes front-and-centre when one of the Slow Horse team, Catherine Standish (Saskia Reeves), gets kidnapped and from the get-go, the action is thrilling. The opening sequence is a prequel to the story that could easily go toe-to-toe with Bond and Bourne for big-screen cinematic action – and no time is ever wasted. The structure of every episode is meticulously crafted by The Thick of It and Veep’s Will Smith – something he says he learned from Armando Iannucci – and the hour-long episodes fly by. The tight structure works well in a show where every second matters – there’s no superfluous dialogue or scenes – and it makes for a truly gripping watch.

This season has the excellent addition of Gangs of London star Ṣọpẹ́ Dìrísù whose character, ex-MI5 section chief Sean Donovan, drives the action throughout. He’s a force of nature in the show, as are Kristin Scott Thomas and Sophie Okenedo as the nefarious warring bosses of MI5. Their scenes together on-screen fizz as they reflect on how hard it is for women to succeed in powerful roles like theirs (as a comment on feminism, it’s true and cutting) and their head-to-head scuffles are deliciously venomous and fun to watch.

The most Bond-like hero of the Slow Horses pack, River Cartwright (Jack Lowden) appears to learn a thing or two this season after his previous misjudgements, not least in his stunning scenes alongside grandfather David (Jonathan Pryce), where a dementia side-storyline adds a rich new emotive depth to the show that was previously lacking. So too does this season’s central theme of authority and incompetence: much could be read as a subversive comment on those in power in the UK right now.

And there are, as ever, some major shocks in the season and these moments (no spoilers!) certainly do shock. But alongside the surprises, action and drama there is much great comedy too. Slimy assistant Roddy Ho (Christopher Chung) is as obnoxious as ever, and the pairing of Shirley (Aimee-Ffion Edwards) and Marcus (Kadiff Kirwan) is emerging into a brilliantly dysfunctional double-act.

The sad thing about Slow Horses is how few people are watching it on Apple TV+ in the UK. Far fewer are subscribed versus the other streaming giants. However, this season could change all that as the buzz around the show becomes impossible to ignore: it’s the best show on TV right now.

‘Slow Horse’ season three streams on Apple TV+ from November 29 

The post ‘Slow Horses’ season three review: the best spy show on TV is back appeared first on NME.

Reality TV must be in its ‘reboot phase’. Already this year, long-dead noughties favourites Big Brother and Survivor have been dug up and revived, with new instalments of Gladiators and Deal Or No Deal still to come. Squid Game: The Challenge, out on Netflix this week, isn’t technically a reboot, but like the others it comes from a hit original that we haven’t heard from in a while.

If you saw the 2021 K-drama it’s based on, you’ll already know the format. Hundreds of contestants (456, in this case, all massive fans) dressed in dark-green tracksuits each with a unique number emblazoned upon, must complete tasks in order to survive and stay in with a chance of winning the jackpot ($4.56m). The big difference this time being that if you lose in The Challenge, you are merely sent home – and not violently killed. Also, the players mostly come from North America or Europe rather than South Korea.

When they’re not punching shapes out of crispy wafers or playing giant games of Red Light, Green Light (Korean Grandmother’s Footsteps), the contestants eat, sleep and hang out in that oh-so-recognisable warehouse filled with many-levelled bunk beds. A lot of effort has been put into making the space look exactly like the one Seong Gi-hun recruits his gang in – and this is where the reality aspect comes to the fore.

There’s dirty dealing, brutal backstabbing and some firm friendships made too. As with all reality shows, everyone is characterised in the simplest emotional terms. We have the villain (a muscly jock who is hated and respected in equal measure). We have the cutesy mother-son team that you’ll want desperately to make it through together. And we have the wet blanket (a young, conflict-averse lad who can seemingly be bullied into doing anything). CCTV-style footage paired with behind-the-scenes interviews, edited in the modern, action-reaction Love Island style help to bring these personal stories to life in a genuinely enthralling way. “You can’t trust anybody in here,” says one competitor to camera. “I’m absolutely going to double-cross you,” says another. At its best, Squid Game: The Challenge captures a bit of the Machiavellian magic that made the first season of The Traitors so compelling.

Where it falls down, predictably, is in the games themselves. It’s hard to feel worried about an old grandpa slipping on the famous bridge challenge when he risks plummeting onto a crash mat and not to his death. Likewise, the Red Light, Green Light episode, which saw dozens sniped out of existence by movement sensors in Squid Game, here has nowhere near the same effect. Just watching who’s eliminated throws up doubts as some wobble their way through to the next round while others remain perfectly statuesque and yet get splattered with bullet-replacement paint anyway. Only a few of the trials work at all, and none as well as they did before.

It says a lot about the skilful storytelling weaved by the producers that this doesn’t matter. The reason the show got made in the first place was because its fans wanted to know what it felt like to be inside their favourite scenes. With the launch of this spin-off, and in a slightly head-scrambling turn of events, they have now become what’s most interesting about it. Even in the streaming/reboot era, no TV series can last without an audience. And never has the saying proved so true as it does here.

Squid Game: The Challenge streams on Netflix from November 22

The post ‘Squid Game: The Challenge’ review: give this game show spin-off the green light appeared first on NME.

Why bother remaking Scott Pilgrim vs. The World if you’re going to be this faithful? The first episode of the new Netflix anime adaptation muddles through as fans of Edgar Wright’s cult 2010 film might expect: Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera) meets Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). They fall in love. Flowers casually has a League Of Evil Exes that Pilgrim must defeat to date her. But just as you’re about to switch it off… boom! It hits you with an almighty twist that obliterates everything you thought you knew about the story.

Yup, Scott Pilgrim Takes Off is a complete diversion from both its graphic novel origins and the live-action movie. The series takes some serious risks, namely by doing away with its twee video game structure in favour of a whodunnit format. It’s a move that will most likely alienate newcomers, but will keep fans somewhat compelled.

Another bold choice is to put Pilgrim, Toronto’s slacker guitarist, firmly in the background. That’s good news for its tapestry of colourful characters and impressively A-list cast, all of whom reprised their roles from the film. Chris Evans slips back into Lucas Lee, the gormless beefcake ex of Flowers. Aubrey Plaza is her deliciously sweary self playing Julie Powers, and Kieran Culkin dazzles as Wallace Wells, the dry, self-assured “cool gay roomate” of Pilgrim. It’s worse news, though, for our central relationship. Changing up the screen time doesn’t do justice to the overall concept: two clueless young adults who are literally fighting for their love while carrying around their own baggage (if you can call seven evil exes ‘baggage’).

Another problem is the dull script, which fails to match the perfectly stilted humour and snappy pacing of the film. Unlike the oddly charming Pilgrim, it’s difficult to root for Flowers, who is apparently too cool to have a personality. Winstead’s delivery of her deadpan vocal fry does not help either, which is mysteriously sexy in short bursts and incredibly grating across entire episodes. Elsewhere, Brie Larson returns as the fateful ex of Pilgrim, Envy Adams. In the film, her allure is captured by her performance of ‘Black Sheep’ (written by Metric). They too return with a new song which fails to capture the magic and raw sexuality of the original. Even Pilgrim and Flowers’ meet cute is jarring instead of endearingly awkward.

It’s a shame, because the series is beautifully animated (courtesy of director/animator Abel Góngora and Japanese studio Science SARU). Scott Pilgrim combines the thick, expressive strokes of the graphic novel with the dramatic style of shonen anime fight scenes, and the results outshine the limitations of the live-action film.

By episode seven, the narrative does begin to click into place, and lo and behold a stunning final boss battle, which elevates the romantic stakes into a delirious sci-fi fantasy. Scott Pilgrim has never shied away from presenting its main characters as flawed, but this epic face-off hammers the point home in a clever manner. The new Scott Pilgrim takes off slowly, and it just about manages to stay aloft.

‘Scott Pilgrim Takes Off’ is available on Netflix from November 17

The post ‘Scott Pilgrim Takes Off’ review: anime adaptation can’t meet sky-high expectations appeared first on NME.

Take a pinch of A Star Is Born, a dollop of Castaway, stir thoroughly with a generous dose of tragic-romantic melodrama, and you’ll get a confection resembling this Netflix K-drama. Castaway Diva begins with a prologue flashing back to 2007, where the teen version of Seo Mok-ha (Lee Re) is obsessed with K-pop star Yoon Ran-joo (Kim Hyo-jin). From entering radio contests to uploading a DIY music video, Mok-ha will stop at nothing to get the attention of her idol. Her desperate attempts draw the ire of pragmatic classmate Jeong Ki-ho (Moon Woo-jin), a hardworking boy who has no time for trivial pursuits because he’s too busy working odd jobs to support himself.

• READ MORE: ‘Daily Dose of Sunshine’ review: an earnest, destigmatising portrayal of mental health
  

While the pair initially clash due to their contrasting dispositions, we learn that they have more in common beyond the surface. Appallingly, Mok-ha and Ki-ho are being physically abused by their respective single fathers. While Mok-ha finds solace in her dreams of following in Ran-joo’s footsteps, Ki-ho is labouring to earn enough to escape their small island town. When Mok-ha offers Ki-ho money to film and edit a video, the latter is struck by the former’s talent and passion. As their connection deepens, he’s forced to rethink his preconceived notions of her as a frivolous fangirl. Once Ki-ho discovers that Mok-ha is also being brutally assaulted behind closed doors, he submits the music video on her behalf, which does impress Ran-joo’s talent agency. Shortly thereafter, Mok-ha is given a shot to audition in Seoul, which both kids see as the perfect opportunity to run away together.

Unfortunately, Mok-ha’s alcoholic father, Seo Jeong-ho (Lee Yoo-joon), tracks them down as they’re about to flee on a ferry. Ki-ho heroically sacrifices his own getaway to physically prevent Jeong-ho from boarding. Sadly, Jeong-ho still manages to get aboard and chase Mok-ha until the distressed girl opts to plunge into the ocean. The next time we see her, we find Mok-ha awaking on an uninhabited island. This is where she’ll remain for the next 15 years, until her adult self (Park Eun-bin) is rescued in 2022 by bickering brothers – Kang Bo-geol (Chae Jong-hyeop) and Kang Woo-hak (Cha Hak-yeon) – who are volunteering to pick up washed-up trash on the island. Since both are employees at broadcast network YGN, the siblings see Mok-ha’s incredible story as a great angle for a news piece.

As Castaway Diva unfolds, much of the early episodes revolve around Mok-ha hilariously reacclimating to society, as she grapples with new technologies and the modern world. Meanwhile, Woo-hak slowly begins falling for the enthusiastic yet confused young woman. When Mok-ha tells him that she wishes to find out what happened to Ki-ho, he believes that he could be her long lost sweetheart, since a head trauma erased his memories prior to high school. He even helps connect Mok-ha with Ran-joo, who is now a forgotten has-been. When she finds her idol too drunk to function at a small town event, Mok-ha offers to sing for Ran-joo backstage, so that the popstar can lip-sync onstage. Seizing her long-awaited moment, Mok-ha delivers a breathtaking vocal performance for the ages. Although her talent is yet to be publicly recognised, this delayed audition wows Ran-joo so much that the bygone diva is determined to help Mok-ha achieve her K-pop ambitions.

While Castaway Diva is potholed by implausible beats (Mok-ha looking flawless after 15 years in the wild, Woo-hak’s insane delusion, etc.) and jarring tonal shifts (its shockingly dark backstory grinds against its effervescent rom-com vibe) – the series is a surprisingly smooth ride. Many of its bumps can easily be forgiven due to Castaway Diva’s penchant for creating flawed yet likeable protagonists, a brisk pace that makes each feature-length episode feel like a breeze and a talented cast who are able to reconcile the show’s incongruent elements through their emotive performances. Already, this show has set-up enough intriguing plot points to keep viewers glued, but it remains to be seen whether Castaway Diva will coast on bubblegum pop, or soar with more soulful ballads in the future.

New episodes of Castaway Diva are available on Netflix every Saturday and Sunday

The post ‘Castaway Diva’ review: ‘Survivor’ meets ‘Idol’ in this flawed yet likeable K-drama appeared first on NME.

“It’s a sickness, not a sin,” head nurse Song Hyo-jin (Parasite’s Lee Jung-eun) says during a particularly emotional scene in Netflix’s newest original K-drama, Daily Dose of Sunshine. “That’s what a mental illness is like. It’s an unpredictable disorder that can strike anyone, anywhere at any time.” She reassures newcomer Jung Da-eun (Park Bo-young), who sits in her office with her head down from the disappointment with herself for making mistakes.

• READ MORE: ARTMS’ HeeJin on her solo album ‘K’: “It was truly a golden experience”

Da-eun is the psychiatric ward’s newest nurse, having come from Internal Medicine, who doesn’t have a clue of how she can best treat the patients in her new department. As a nurse who is accustomed to supporting patients with more physical illnesses, Da-eun’s first days in the Psychiatric Unit have proven to be quite the learning curve. She struggles to adjust her work and mindset for new patients who behave in ways she doesn’t always understand.

Luckily for Da-eun, she is under the expert guidance of Song Hyo-jin and the other psychiatric nurses, who do their best to support and teach her. She also meets a doctor from the proctology department, Dong Go-yun (Yeon Woo-jin), who frequently visits the unit due to his concern over his habit of cracking joints. With the help of their moral support, Da-eun – after countless trials and errors – eventually finds her sweet spot in the ward’s chaos.

Psychiatric care and stigma surrounding it has always been a great albeit unspoken issue – not just in South Korea, but all over the world. Though, South Korea, in particular, has seen the most silent sufferers, as the nation ranked the highest in terms of suicides per capita. Mental health in Korean media has always been represented through a skewed lens informed by stereotypes, but Daily Dose of Sunshine handles it with the utmost care, unlike anything we’ve ever seen from K-dramas.

The series is deeply emphatic and informative, humanising patients who are faced with different disorders ranging from schizophrenia and depression to panic disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder. It is incredibly refreshing to finally have a Korean drama that doesn’t relegate them to violent and antagonistic stereotypes, but rather as people who are as multi-dimensional as anyone else – a whole lot more than what their illnesses paint them to be.

Park Bo-young, as our eyes and ears, delivers the nuances of her character with grace. It is no easy feat to balance Da-eun’s characterisation as someone who always seeks to understand despite her own preconceived notions, and as someone renowned for her gentleness and optimism who also faces fears, doubts, guilt and shame. Park has long proved her mettle as a skilled actress, but her performance in Daily Dose of Sunshine may be one of her best yet.

The beauty of the series also lies in its writing. Every new obstacle is dealt with the genuine goal of informing, educating and eliciting empathy. As a series set largely within the walls of a psychiatric ward, it never once feels like a place filled with despair but instead one meant to foster true healing. Daily Dose of Sunshine excels in balancing the emotional aspects of the show (of which there are plenty) with the more lighthearted ones, which make it all the more emotionally fulfilling.

Mental illnesses may not present as wounds on flesh, but that does not make them any less tangible, nor are they harder to bounce back from. This new K-drama serves as a beacon of hope and opportunity for more to accept the reality of mental health, and Daily Dose of Sunshine is a beautiful testament to this heartfelt message.

Daily Dose of Sunshine is available to stream exclusively on Netflix

The post ‘Daily Dose of Sunshine’ review: an earnest, destigmatising portrayal of mental health appeared first on NME.