'Notes From The Last Row' Netflix Review: A Spiritual Sequel To 'Oldboy'

Notes from the Last Row has Choi Min-sik’s character suffering a severe meltdown after being subjected to the wildest plot twists imaginable is obviously gonna make me compare it to the other Choi Min-sik project, which has the plot twist and a meltdown of the century, Oldboy. Kim Gyu-tae and Jang Myung-woo’s adaptation of Juan Mayorga’s play, El chico de la ultima fila, follows Mun-oh, the strict literature professor at the Yeonseo University. He lives with his wife, Hyeon-suk. He had written a novel several years ago but has not been able to cook a follow up to it. And his nemesis is Su-hun because they studied at the same university together but Su-hun became a literary celebrity and Mun-oh was “just a teacher.” Now, during one of his classes, he comes across a student named Kang, who is supposedly talented enough to be one of the best writers out there. Mun-oh lowkey becomes addicted to the stories he tells through his daily assignments about living with the family of one of his classmates, Se-yun. He decides to take him under his wing and teach him how to improve his storytelling. However, with each chapter of the tale, Mun-oh starts to realize that Kang hasn’t entered Se-yun’s life just to help him with his computer coding and he might have some dark intentions lying underneath the surface. Whether or not Mun-oh is gonna pull the plug on this experiment or let Kang act out his fantasies because it feeds his thirst for stories is what forms the crux of the narrative (at least initially).

Notes from the Last Row is essentially a story about revenge that’s wrapped in a narrative about, well, storytelling. It’s so meta that you can get lost in the layers that Gyu-tae, Myung-woo, and Mayorga have created. You hear Mun-oh teach class after class about how nuanced writing is as an artform, what are the rules that should be followed while scripting any story, and what you should or should not do when you want to break those rules. But he’s completely blindsided when those methods are used against him because there’s a vast gap between academic knowledge and practical knowledge. And that gap is usually bridged with an odd sense of apathy towards the human condition. I personally related a lot with that because it is a problem that I struggle with quite often. When you are constantly writing ending explainers and recaps, you start to watch movies and TV shows through that lens. If a story, that’s probably very personal to the author, isn’t “meaty” enough to write about, then there’s a tendency to see it as a lesser form of art. You ignore the beating heart of the narrative because you are looking for something spicy and controversial. To fulfil such demands, sometimes writers ignore the soul of a story and conjure bizarre plots and subplots. And the show underscores the fact that that way of consuming or creating art can be corrosive to you as a person and the world in general.

Speaking of plot twists, there are 2 major ones and several minor ones; and if you have watched enough psychological thrillers, I think you can predict at least one of the major plot twists by episode 2 because it is quite obvious. But, surprisingly enough, I didn’t see that as an issue because it really feels like Notes from the Last Row is saying that, “Yes, you are supposed to realize that this is gonna lead to the most predictable plot twist of all time but look at Mun-oh, he’s such an idiot that he can’t figure that out.” It plays out in such a way that even the existence of plot holes becomes a character study because every time you notice a plot hole and Mun-oh doesn’t, you understand the guy a little better. Out of all the themes and topics that the show explores, the one that I liked the most is kinda cruel. Without giving away any spoilers, the show talks about “knowing your place.” Everybody has ambitions but that doesn’t mean that they can achieve it, sometimes due to lack of talent and other times because of the inability to access certain doors due to your financial constraints. And in such cases, it’s best to strive for self-sustainability instead of super-stardom. What you shouldn’t be doing is painting everyone around you as your nemesis and then drowning yourself in self-pity and loathing. I think that’s a message a lot of unskilled but arrogant people (politicians and influencers, to be specific) need to hear.

Notes from the Last Row looks and sounds great. Everything about it feels so simple that you can take its technical aspects for granted. But if you pause and focus on the production design, cinematography, editing, sound design, art direction, costume design, music, etc., you are gonna notice how meticulously everything has been put together to give you an immersive experience. The only issue I have with the show is the pacing. I don’t mind hour-long episodes but there were moments where my patience was tested. Maybe it won’t be that big of a problem for others, but it did for me, so I had to dock half a star for that. As for the performances, of course they are top notch. Choi Min-sik’s mental breakdown in Oldboy is seared into everyone’s minds, and to see him do something like that after all these years is so satisfying. I mean that in a “look how much Min-sik has evolved as an actor” way, not a “I love to watch Min-sik be miserable” way. Choi Hyun-wook straddles the line between chilling and stoic. His monotonous expression hides something so sinister that you almost don’t wanna know what his character truly is as a person. Jin Kyung, Yunjin Kim, Moon Jeon-hee, Han Ji-eun, and the rest of the supporting cast are phenomenal. Even though the focus largely remains on Min-sik and Hyun-wook, I think the show wouldn’t have been as enjoyable if the supporting cast wasn’t so goddamn talented. In closing, please give Notes from the Last Row a watch; it compelled me to give a standing ovation from my bedroom while also making me think a lot about my writing skills.