Park Jin-hai primarily focuses on K-dramas, entertainment shows and actor interviews. Beyond that, she also pens articles covering the broader arts scene, with a particular emphasis on classical music, dance and various aspects of lifestyle. Since joining The Korea Times in 2013, she has made significant contributions in the realms of hallyu (Korean wave), industry news and international affairs.
REVIEW 2 young souls find light amid life's gray realities in 'Still Shining'
A scene from the JTBC drama "Still Shining," available globally on Netflix / Courtesy of JTBC
By Park Jin-hai
Restrained performances pair with subtle storytelling, beautiful cinematography
A gentle, beautifully observed coming-of-age romance, "Still Shining" isn’t really about campus hijinks so much as it is about tracing two teens into their 30s, where love, work and family quietly reshape their hearts across more than a decade of subtle transformations.
At 19, Tae-seo (Park Jin-young) arrives in the countryside after losing both parents in a car accident. He grew up in a household where money was always short, to the point that his parents only wished for "something safe and peaceful, where Tae-seo can make a living without struggle." Now, with a younger brother who has been left with a permanent limp and grandparents to support, Tae-seo spends the entire summer alone in an empty school library, studying as if his family’s survival depends on every page.
On the surface, Tae-seo looks solid and unshakable, but that composure masks constant tension. He is a boy who learned too early that there is no safety net. Into this tightly controlled life slips Eun-a (Kim Min-ju). Talkative, playful and just a little chaotic, she becomes the one person who makes him unclench his shoulders and breathe.
Eun-a carries her own quiet scars. Her father’s depression and a suicide attempt made her his caregiver over the years, and even though he’s better now, her anxiety hasn’t faded. Everything feels unsteady; she doesn’t even know what she wants from life.
A scene from JTBC drama "Still Shining" / Courtesy of JTBC
Tae-seo’s calm strength grounds her. He stands firm no matter what life throws, and just being near him quiets her worries. To Eun-a, he’s more than a crush — he’s the one steady thing when everything else spins out of control.
Directed by Kim Yoon-jin, who was praised for the tender, lyrical sensibility of "Our Beloved Summer" (2021), the series leans into quiet emotions rather than big plot twists. Visually, it often feels like leafing through a photo book: sunlight pooling in an empty classroom, the soft blur of a bus window, the muted glow of a train at night.
The show follows Tae-seo and Eun-a from their first meeting through the slow realization of their feelings, and finally to the moment they confess and become lovers, tracing their relationship over four distinct seasons. The result is a romance that feels both fresh and nostalgic, alive with the small, sharp details of youth.
Instead of relying on dramatic incidents, the drama focuses on the world the two of them build together, even in difficult circumstances. Their relationship is defined by the spaces they share: silent library study sessions, bus and bike commutes to school, their first glimpse of the Han River from Dongjak Station in Seoul, a post-exam train ride, a seaside trip, Eun-a’s room — as well as the secret codes and playlists keeping them "together" despite the Seoul-Gangneung distance.
Episodes 3 and 4 test their bond against real life. Tae-seo tutors nonstop for his family. Eun-a starts a hometown hotel internship and dorm life, and their schedules drift apart.
She finally calls: "Spend time on yourself. Let’s not waste a moment." He replies, voice breaking: "I don’t get what you’re saying… but why do I understand? Why does it make sense?" Tears well up; his hands shake as he holds back sobs.
At 30, Tae-seo pilots subway trains through Seoul’s endless loops. His days mirror the tracks: constant motion, no real way out. He turns down a solid corporate programmer job and even an overseas transfer, sticking to duty over desire as always. A call from home and a chance glimpse of another driver who reminds him of his late mother locks in his choice.
Eun-a is now managing a restored guesthouse after her own dreams collapsed. She recognizes Tae-seo’s voice instantly on a train announcement. They both still think of each other — comfort mixed with pain —but stay apart, scared to reopen old wounds.
One evening, Eun-a waits at Dongjak Station after Tae-seo’s shift, and after some initial hesitation, he walks over and quietly says, "It’s been a while." After 10 years apart, those simple words feel like their story might still have more pages.
Everyday work scenes — commutes, night shifts, grumpy customers — blend seamlessly into their romance. Layer on sunlit alleys, late-night trains and an old school library, and viewers may feel like they’re aging alongside them, season by season.
What truly captivates are the actors’ restrained performances, where emotions are bottled until they quietly overflow, paired with subtle storytelling. It slowly builds investment, pulling us completely into their world and time. We can’t help but wonder: How will these tender young souls keep crossing paths as each other’s reason to endure, and keep shining?