Love Next Door Review + Breakdown: Disappointment Next Door

Yes, you read that title right. I was awfully disappointed by tvN’s Love Next Door.

Written by Shin Ha-eun and directed by Yoo Je-won, the creative team behind tvN’s marvellous Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, Love Next Door was easily one of the most anticipated dramas of the year. Add Jung Hae-in and Jung So-min as main leads, and I was sold. Counting down the days for it.

Fast forward to last Sunday evening. While watching the last episode, I realised that I’d been force-feeding myself every single chapter, rolling my eyes when I noticed episodes that were more than 80 minutes long and celebrating when we got a slightly shorter one.

Where did things go wrong? That’s why we’re here today.

This review contains lots of spoilers, and the following breakdown is quite long. Read it at your own risk! But, if you prefer, you can pin our spoiler-free summary at the bottom!

The Difference Between What Was Promised x What Was Delivered

Love Next Door starts with the childhood friends-to-lovers trope: Choi Seung-hyo (Jung Hae-in) is a successful architect who reunites with his childhood best friend, Bae Seok-ryu (Jung So-min). Seok-ryu lived in America for 10 years, but she then decided to come back to Korea, after breaking off her engagement and quitting a very good job at an important company in the US. This is (or was supposed to be) the story of how Seok-ryu rebuilds her life and how she and Seung-hyo realise that their feelings for each other might be a bit more romantic than they thought.

Heavily marketed by Netflix and tvN as a cheerful rom-com and a healing tale of love and friendship, this was my exact cup of tea.

Or so I thought.

And what did we get instead? A mishmash of melodrama, comedy(-ish), slice-of-life, and romance(-ish) in a terribly paced script, with nonsensical characters and plotlines that are either solved miraculously or forgotten altogether.

Instead of presenting us with a series of conflicts through which the characters grow and improve, leading to a satisfying resolution, Love Next Door relies on a series of shocking incidents to further the plot. These “shocks” didn’t add anything of value to the overall storyline and offered the characters very little, if any, opportunity to grow. That led to a show in which most of the cast didn’t develop at all and to a string of unrealistic solutions that didn’t offer the audience any gratification.

Love Next Door: The Complete Breakdown

Let’s break the show down into chunks of episodes that represent the different genres Love Next Door tried to embrace.

[Episodes 1-6] Love Next Door: The Slice-of-Life

In the first six or so episodes, barely anything of significance happens. You’re introduced to your characters. Seok-ryu’s past (which you could say is the most important plotline of the show) is shown in blurry bits and pieces. You’re led to believe that she’s been cheated on, her workplace exploited and bullied her, she wasn’t really happy with her career, and her family environment is slightly toxic. Her mother, especially, is truly awful: she hits everyone and everything, imposes her ideas and complexes onto the people around her, gaslights her husband almost constantly, and (this is said, not shown) coddles Seok-ryu’s baby brother (keep in mind he’s a 30-year-old).

Seok-ryu and her former workplace

There’s no progression whatsoever within these six episodes of 1 hour and 20 minutes each, and the little resolution you get is shallow. For instance, after meeting one of her former colleagues, which led to a quick shouting match and a prototype of a fistfight (led by the honourable male lead who came to the rescue of the female lead), Seok-ryu moves on. The effects of working at what seemed to be a place that exploited and bullied her for years disappeared in mere 10 minutes. She just… lets go, I guess.

Seok-ryu and her new career

Within the first six episodes, Seok-ryu finds out she’d like to give cooking a shot. Her journey towards this realisation was inconsistent and a tad uninspired, especially considering that you never really see her work through the problems and aftermath of her previous experience. The relationship with her mother, punctuated by a few loud arguments, doesn’t get you anywhere either: her mother doesn’t change, and Seok-ryu doesn’t behave like the 34-year-old that she’s supposed to be. Her family environment sees a glimpse of development when (shock) her father is scammed. There’s no internal change in the characters — no ongoing character development — but an “extreme” external factor that pushes the plot forward.

What about Seung-hyo?

If you’re wondering why I’m only really talking about Seok-ryu here, it’s because Seung-hyo is given very little during these episodes. His character, sometimes overly immature and a tad too possessive, feels like a foil character at times (that is, he’s there to draw attention to Seok-ryu’s story). His background in swimming is brushed over. His working life is added as short anecdotes that aren’t really memorable. When he realises that he likes Seok-ryu, he proceeds to behave in a way that an 18-year-old would: first, being nasty to her; then, pressuring her into giving him an answer. His family, which is shown to be a broken household, doesn’t offer much weight to the story and doesn’t consume enough screen time to fully grab your attention.

[Episodes 7-11] Love Next Door: The Melodrama

From a slice-of-life, the show slowly changes shape to go full melodrama.

In episode 7, we’re introduced to Seok-ryu’s ex-fiancé, Hyeon-jun (played by Han Joon-woo). At first, you see him as an annoying, stalkerish guy who just can’t understand that their relationship is over. You, as the audience, can’t understand why Seok-ryu is putting up with such pushy behaviour. But you start to wonder if his addition to the story was because Seung-hyo, devoid of any character development, needed an(other) external push to confess his feelings to Seok-ryu (as he actually confesses at the end of episode 7).

In episode 8, in addition to Seok-ryu/Seong-ryo/Hyeon-jun’s romantic woes, we had a rehash of the familial conflicts of the early episodes when Seok-ryu’s parents find out about her new career choice. Even her father, who seemed to be the nicest of them all, turns his back on Seok-ryu. Once again, we have a shouting match as the highlight, as if just shouting what you feel or think at people solved all our problems. Here, you’d imagine that these characters would work through their complexes, misunderstandings, and hurt and slowly walk towards a place of mutual understanding and acceptance.

No. Remember that you always need a shocking plot point to move the narrative forward.

Then, in episodes 9 and 10, we’re given the full picture of the main plotline of the show: Seok-ryu survived cancer while living in the US, and no one knew about it. That’s the miraculous solution (a.k.a. another “external factor”) that her family needed to fix all their problems. Her parents, especially her mother, become slightly nicer and more understanding. They, who were so dead against her cooking, have now decided to support her new dream.

The deal with Seok-ryu’s ex-fiancé

Meanwhile, Hyeon-jun is shown in a completely new light (a considerable chunk of episode 9 is composed of flashbacks of their relationship in the US). He was a kind, caring partner who put a stop to his own career to support Seok-ryu during her convalescence. Their relationship seemed to be a solid, mature bond that overcame one of the greatest difficulties one might face in one’s life. Seok-ryu develops (what seems to be quite serious) depression after she gets better, which starts to affect her overall life and their relationship. They break up — or better yet, she breaks up with him — because he decides to go to a party one night.

Look, a person who decides to go to a party after dedicating their entire life to you for over a year can hardly be criticised.

But you understand that her reaction doesn’t come from reason but from her depression. That’s when things get even more illogical. During that specific argument, the one that led to their breakup and Seok-ryu’s return to Korea, Seok-ryu was clearly deeply depressed. And I don’t mean miserable. I mean, clinically depressed. As in, she needs therapy and a lot of support. But, right after that argument, she packs her bags and comes to Korea — and that’s the Seok-ryu you’re introduced to in the very first episode.

What happened to that depression? Who knows.

A female lead whose problems continue to pile up without any reasonable resolution

You now realise that your female lead survived a serious illness, an exploitative workplace, a toxic family environment, and depression — and what’s her character arc like? Flat. You never see her actually work through these problems, and the script goes from exposure to shouting confrontation to a happy ending over and over again. There’s no journey of growth at all.

The same applies to Seung-hyo: you find out that he purposefully ghosted Seok-ryu when she was in America, like the proper grown-up best friend that he is. He regrets it, of course, but how is that solved? Having Seok-ryu shout at him for a couple of minutes. Then, everyone accepts that he was wrong, and he decides to take her to the airport to see her ex-fiancé off. In the weirdest resolution possible, I was left feeling bad for the ex-fiancé. He was a supportive partner who stood by her when her own childhood best friend turned his back on her. Between the two options, Seok-ryu chooses the latter — and it feels… wrong somehow. They have a nice farewell at the airport, and Seok-ryu cries her eyes out. Illness plot, family problems, and ex-fiancé solved. What else should we sort out before the show turns into a “rom-com”?

Oh, yes, Seung-hyo’s family plotline.

Special mention: Episode 11

In episode 11, another shock pops up: Seung-hyo’s mom might have some sort of neurodegenerative disease, which leads to — guess what — another shouting match in which Seung-hyo’s parents realise that they actually like each other and Seung-hyo exposes to his mom how hurt he felt growing up in such a sterile, inattentive household. And that’s it, problem solved. To be fair, as a standalone episode, episode 11 might be the best-structured one in the entire series, considering that we have an inciting event, build-up, and resolution all laid out with proper pacing. But, as part of a whole, you don’t get enough setting-up before then, or enough treatment after, to hold it as part of a cohesive whole.

[Episodes 12-16] Love Next Door: The Rom-Com(-ish)

With that sorted, Love Next Door becomes a “rom-com”. The last episodes (12-16) are mostly fluff, with comic scenes that are mostly cringeworthy and forceful. The dialogues are devoid of any real content, with an excess of romantic niceties that feel empty. Seok-ryu and Seung-hyo are two 34-year-olds who had already been in a romantic relationship before this one, but they behave like teenagers, which isn’t cute in any way. It’s just weird and irritating.

Their romantic relationship, which for the first six episodes showed barely any cute banter or romantic spark, becomes overly sweet for the last third of the show. That’s the problem with bad pacing: without the correct set-up and consistent progress, you lose interest when the resolution actually happens. Their coming together felt anticlimactic, and their bond afterwards fell flat despite all the cutie-cutie that they — but mostly Seung-hyo — spew to each other.

Do any of the characters show any sort of growth?

Now, get all these characters and compare them in the first and the last episode. You’ll see that, individually, they are exactly the same. There’s no real difference in who they are, just in their dynamics. Seok-ryu’s brother, despite lacking screen time in the first half of the show, is the only one who shows a pinch of change. After another shock (once again) in episode 13, there’s (once again) a shouting match between him and his family and from there, he changes his ways. Flawed execution, but let’s take that into consideration.

Nominating Seok-ryu’s Mother for Most Irritating Character on TV

Seok-ryu’s mother might win an award as the most irritating character on TV this year, especially with her tantrum in the last third of the show. Considering that she has an awful personality and shows no sign of growth at all, the conflict between her and Seung-hyo’s mother in episode 14 is close to a joke in and of itself.

A very unfunny one.

Probably because there was no other plotline that could be explored at this point, the script introduces a fight between two 50-year-old women who have been friends for 40 years in episode 14. The reasons and the development of this fight are ridiculous and immature, but the conflict dragged on for two whole episodes. How do they sort it out? You guessed it: you have a bunch of grown women kicking and punching each other with vegetables. That leads to a fine conversation in which Seung-hyo’s mother, the one with less fault in this dynamic, cuddles Seok-ryu’s mother’s ego for a little while. And… that’s it once again. They love each other and problem solved!

The show does have random moments of tenderness throughout, though, but they don’t happen often enough or are placed efficiently enough to add anything to the overall narrative. Initially, I thought that Love Next Door wanted to explore Tolstoy’s famous introduction to Anna Karenina: “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” But I don’t think that’s what happened. I’m afraid that the show didn’t know exactly what themes to explore, leading to a hodgepodge of ideas, plotlines, and one-dimensional characters.

Some Highlights: The Good in Love Next Door

Love Next Door has three highlights, however. The first is the childhood flashbacks that feature the incredible Oh Eun-seo and Cho Yeo-jun as young Seok-ryu and Seung-hyo, respectively. They deliver such charming, compelling performances, setting up a nice, heartfelt background to a future relationship that never lived up to it, unfortunately.

The second is the relationship between the second couple, Jung Mo-eun (Kim Ji-eun) and Kang Dan-ho (the lovely Yun Ji-on). The way that the show handled their dynamic and their characters is not without flaws, but the progress in their relationship is consistent and often avoids major melodrama (“often,” I said). Kang Dan-ho’s daughter, Kang Yeon-du (Shim Ji-yoo), might be the most mature of the entire cast and makes the most reasonable decisions and comments throughout. Shim is adorable and absolutely enchanting, as she responds to the more experienced performers around her with equal strength.

The final one has to be Seung-hyo’s ex-girlfriend (played wonderfully by Seo Ji-hye), who doesn’t overstay her welcome and delivers an independent, mature (a miracle over here) and outspoken character. She makes her intentions clear from the very beginning, but allows Seung-hyo to be himself and make his own decisions. Yes, she does find ways to spend time with him, but she never stalks him around. She ends up being a catalyst for Seung-ryu’s short-lived introspective character arc. She’s the ex done right.

Technical Aspects

The cinematography was standard and didn’t add anything new to the story. The score was strangely used throughout, with some “elevator music” kind of songs playing in some important scenes. One that I remember very clearly was when Seung-hyo gave Seok-ryu her proposal bracelet in her bedroom — it’s such a weird choice of music that I couldn’t really immerse myself in the scene. The pop songs didn’t stand out much either, and even though “What Are We” by Ha Sung-woon can be easily crowned as the most memorable tune, it’s now facing plagiarism accusations from Yerin Baek (to be honest, I knew that song sounded familiar!).

Before we wrap up, I have to mention that, as much as I adore Jung Hae-in and Jung So-min, this show didn’t offer them enough to have them shine as they should. Their chemistry felt not only weak but contrived — which I highly believe comes from this disastrous script. If you watch BTS or promotional videos, they naturally have a spark to their relationship that didn’t come across in the show. Their more dramatic scenes were delivered with finesse, but unfortunately, this is a piece of work that won’t be remembered as their best. Finally, despite a dodgy character, Jo Han-chul (who played Seok-ryu’s father) continues to amaze me with his natural delivery and charisma.

Final Notes on Love Next Door Before We Move On

If the goal was to create a genre-blending show, Love Next Door misses the mark by a mile. Instead of getting a bit of each genre distributed equally throughout, you start with a bit of slice-of-life, which capsizes into a melodrama, which drags until it turns into a romantic… comedy of sorts. A series of plotlines that weren’t developed progressively or organically leads to lots of miraculous solutions and loose ends that annoy you more than compel you to continue watching it.

You can even notice that in the ratings: throughout the show, Love Next Door‘s ratings wavered between 4% and 7% (not that impressive considering that Love Next Door was given a primetime slot in tvN’s schedule). There’s no gradual increase — the numbers just fluctuate. The very last episode drew in 8.4% nationwide, as if most people decided to just watch the last one for the sake of it. Unfortunately, even the finale fails to deliver with a half-baked ending that leaves us adrift, not really receiving the payoff we’d been looking forward to.

You can watch Love Next Door on:

This is quite long, right? Why don’t you pin the summary instead?

I know that this is a long, negative review (which breaks my heart, considering the cast and creative team behind it), but I would like to hear from you: what did you think of the show? Do you agree with the points I made today? Let me know in the comments! Also, share what you’ll be watching next — we have a lot of interesting new releases this month!