K-Drama Rewind, Itaewon Class: Park Seo-joon and Kim Da-mi's raw, angsty underdog tale loses its bite midway

Itaewon Class is just one of those shows that, to quote Adele, could have really had it all. It's a tale that begins as the Pied Piper of a motley crew of outcasts and grows so tantalisingly close to a sharp, conflicting portrait of fragmented identities, underdog stories and social class hierarchies.

And then, the magic vanishes.

The premiere is raw, wretched and vulnerable. Park Seo-joon plays Sae-ro-yi, a man struggling with his beliefs while carrying his father’s ideals. He stands up for what he believes in, even when it costs him everything, like getting expelled for fighting sadists. His life comes crashing down when his father dies, and Sae-ro-yi knows exactly who is responsible. Seo-joon is stellar as a man seeking justice; the hollow, deadened eyes say it all.

A spurt of fiery violence lands him in jail for two years, and when he emerges, Sae-ro-yi has a different path of revenge: Begin a business, in the heart of bustling and busy Itaewon with a ragtag team, brimming with support and friendship, while planning to take down an evil corporation. Itaewon shines though with personality and asthetic, from the rooftop restaurants, to the poky alleyways, still showcasing the hotspots for a lively nightlife.  

The first ten episodes are where the show truly breathes. Watching the team build their business is endearing and moving, filled with friction, setbacks and small victories There are moments of warmth that land, like the opening ritual shared by Ma Hyun-yi (Lee Joo-young) and Choi Seung-kwon (Ryu Kyung-soo).

Then Kim Da-mi’s blunt, rebellious, and often problematic, Yi-seo joins them. She is fascinated by Sae-ro-yi, drawn to a man so unwavering in his values that he feels almost alien to her. He, on the other hand, is deeply annoyed by her at first, but that does little to dim her fixation, setting up a one-sided love story that stretches across several episodes.

Yi-seo is, at times, almost infuriating, and credit to Kim Da-mi for crafting a character who is at once endearing, comical, and deeply bruised, precisely because she cannot see the greys between black and white. She can be vicious with her words, and her insecurity often curdles into control, especially in the way she keeps Sae-ro-yi’s former love, Soo-ah, at a distance, a shame, given how much quiet promise and sweetness that relationship held.

For a while, the tension works. The dynamics, the friction, the push-and-pull, it all holds, right up until the four-year time leap. After that, the story begins to fray.

The business is suddenly successful, the team more polished, the stakes seemingly higher, but the emotional core weakens. The focus shifts heavily to Yi-seo’s determination to win over a resolute Sae-ro-yi, and it becomes obsessive to the point of being counter-productive. His irritation feels justified. And then storytelling leans into contrivance and bizarre low hanging fruits in storytelling, a kidnapping, near-death stakes, and a rushed emotional realisation. The confession is touching, largely because the actors at the fore are a force to reckon with, but it feels unearned.

Worse, the grittiness and emotional exhaustion of building a business, begins to happen off-screen. Yi-seo becomes a marketing genius, Hyun-yi is suddenly a chef, and the team’s growth unfolds without the struggle we were once asked to invest in. The grime disappears. You’re told the grind happened. And you find yourself searching for the underdog story that began it all.

Itaewon Class still has its moments. Its characters remain vibrant, its world textured, and its soundtrack is so good it almost makes you forgive the cracks. But somewhere along the way, it lets go of the struggle that defined it. And in the end, what you remember most isn’t what it achieved, but what it almost was.