Written by Han Ga-eun and Kang Kyung-min, directed by Lee Jung-heum
Developed by Studio S

Rating: ★★★★★

I often wonder why I’m so drawn to stories of trauma—those quiet wounds that take root in childhood and weave their way through adulthood, subtle yet unshakable. Perhaps it’s why I became a writer, though I sometimes muse: might I have been a psychologist instead? There’s something profoundly human in these narratives—how we carry invisible scars, how we survive them, how they shape the contours of who we become.

Grief is one of the most elusive and complex emotions we face, and capturing it authentically—especially within the constructed world of film or television—is no small feat. I say this with deep respect, because grief eventually touches all of us, whether through personal loss or through the quiet ache of someone else’s story. In that regard, Secret Sunshine remains one of the most powerful portrayals of grief I’ve encountered. Jeon Do-yeon’s performance, to me, stands as one of the most arresting and honest in the history of cinema.

Whenever I reflect on grief in art, I return to her portrayal—not only for its technical brilliance, but for the way it gives shape to something ineffable: the quiet collapse and reassembly of a human soul.

What Our Movie—or more precisely, its script—captures about loss is unforgettable. It presents grief not merely as a burden, but as a form of grace—a quiet, persistent force that binds us to one another in unseen ways. The story lingers in a tender, aching space, tracing the fragile threads of human connection shaped by pain that hovers just beneath the surface. Watching it, I find myself wondering: How do certain moments carve themselves so deeply into the arc of our lives? How do their unseen ripples shape who we become? And where can we bring that quiet pain—to let it breathe, without judgment or shame?

These questions, poised at the intersection of art, empathy, and humanity, stir something raw and unresolved in me. They remind me that grief, when allowed to speak, does not isolate—it reveals a shared, silent longing to be understood. As I often say, every story has more than one side. This drama captures that truth with both intimacy and universality, showing how perspectives shift when pain is finally given a voice.

It invites us to reflect on why we’re here—what we owe one another—and how a single touch, a fleeting moment of connection, can become someone else’s lifeline.

This might be the drama I’ve cherished most in 2025 so far, right alongside When Life Gives You Tangerines. A must-watch.

Image courtesy of Disney Plus