K-drama Deep-Dive Review: The Subtle Art of a Perfect Ending
One of the many reasons I find Love Scout so compelling is its ability to deliver a simple yet elegant ending—and not many can do it just right.
Back in the good old days, when I used to watch movies with my late mom, she would always complain that the endings were too short. She wanted to revel in that feel-good moment just a little longer. But back then, an ending was just that—the end.
These days, we have the privilege of dramas that take their time, offering more complete stories with longer endings. But length alone doesn’t make an ending satisfying—it’s the quality that counts.
Think of a drama that had you hooked and engaged all the way through—until it faltered at the very end. While Love Scout handles its ending well, others completely fall apart.
One of the worst offenders is When the Phone Rings, which, in my opinion, holds the crown for the worst K-drama ending to date. What started with a truly intriguing premise ended in an absolutely berserk and ridiculous finale—like the screenwriter had suddenly gone on holiday.
It was full of plot twists that kept things exciting, but the ending? Utterly ridiculous. The story had been built up so big that they must have felt the need for an even bigger resolution. But big only works when it’s elegant—not when it’s illogical and far-fetched.
Think about it: The female lead, who seemed perfectly fine, is suddenly unconscious and is hospitalised. The male lead, despite loving her so much, inexplicably disappears. And where does he end up? In a war-zone country, of all places! She goes after him, and by sheer coincidence, he happens to be at the right place at the right time to save her. And just like that, they’re in love again.
I was staring at my screen, mouth gaping wide.
There are so many possibilities that would have made more sense. But instead, they wanted the suspense of him missing for six months in a war zone. In the end, this choice made him seem more selfish than loving. After all that, their reconciliation was just an, “Oh, you came for me? Okay, let’s get back together.” (Cue eye roll. You can see I can’t stop ranting about this.)
Next, endings that drag on unnecessarily. If that was an example of an ending gone berserk, this has the opposite problem.
Take Lovely Liar, for instance. I know we all want that feel-good moment my mom always wished for, but not for two whole episodes! The one time my friends and I gathered to watch a drama finale together, it had to be this one. You should have seen the looks on our faces. (Never mind—anyone want some chips?)
But what about dramas that do not have an ending? Ridiculous, right? But we do have them. Twenty Five Twenty One is one such drama. I know many love this drama, I don’t. There is so much to complain about, and the lack of an ending is a big one. No closure, no resolution, no nothing. And to me, no purpose. I feel that after investing so much time and heart into watching a drama, we deserve an ending—good or bad.
And then, there are the endings that should have been—where you feel cheated out of the rightful conclusion.
One example? Crash Landing on You. I get that an ideal relationship between them would be nearly impossible, but the best they could do was meeting for just a few weeks a year at a music conference? That’s not even bittersweet—it’s just sad.
Another is The Good Bad Mother. The ending was pretty solid, but I felt robbed of one key moment: the kids realising their very-grown-up friend was actually their father. That reaction would have been gold! Sigh…
The ending of a drama—or any story, whether a movie, novel, or otherwise—matters immensely. It can make or break the entire experience.
That’s why I appreciate Love Scout’s ending. Even though it’s simple, it’s elegant and perfect.
As I discussed in my last post, the female lead took the most logical approach—one that was painful but necessary. She chose to “lose” in order to move forward rather than escalating things into a fight for survival. And in the end, she won by choosing a fresh start on her own terms.
And when the male lead was called back to the company that had fired him, you’d expect him to return triumphantly, proving himself. But no—he was wise and courageous enough to turn them down and found something even better.
And for us, as long as we’re still alive, our story isn’t over—we do not yet have our “ending”. But in the many small endings we encounter throughout life, we have the power to make a difference.
Not revenge, not winning at all costs, not meaningless prolonging, and certainly not disappearing into a war zone—what kind of small endings do you want to shape in your life?
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