Dreams, Distance, and a Fateful Kiss

Melo Movie kicks off with an episode that’s equal parts nostalgic, heartbreaking, and unexpectedly charming. Right away, we dive into the intertwined lives of Ko-gyeom and Kim Moo-bi—two people with vastly different relationships with cinema.

Ko-gyeom grew up with movies as his babysitter. With his older brother Ko-jun always busy, he spent most of his childhood at a video rental store, courtesy of their landlord. Naturally, he fell in love with the silver screen. But love doesn’t always translate to talent, and Ko-gyeom—despite his best efforts—is a terrible actor. That doesn’t stop him, though. His easy-going and cheerful personality makes him likable to just about everyone on set, even if his acting skills leave much to be desired.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we meet Kim Moo-bi. Her father, an unsuccessful filmmaker, loved cinema more than he ever loved her. She hated everything about movies—including the name he gave her. But everything changed when he passed away during her high school years. Watching one of his films for the first time, she came to a sharp conclusion: It was awful.

Rather than let it go, she made it her mission to direct a masterpiece—not out of love for the craft, but to prove how foolish her father had been to dedicate his life to something so unimpressive.

Ko-gyeom and Moo-bi’s paths cross on set, where he’s merely an extra and she’s hard to ignore. Though Moo-bi doesn’t seek attention, Ko-gyeom instantly notices her. And despite her best efforts to keep her distance, she notices him too—his infectious energy, the way people gravitate toward him.

But she doesn’t like it. At all.

“I have personality issues,” she deadpans when he tries to talk to her. Message received? Not quite.

Beyond our central duo, we’re introduced to Ko-gyeom’s childhood friends, Hong Si-jun and Son Ju-a. The two are a couple navigating their dreams—Si-jun works part-time while chasing a music career, and Ju-a, inspired by those around her, decides to pursue screenwriting. Meanwhile, Ko-gyeom remains close to his older brother, keeping up their long-standing tradition of “movie days.”

Ko-gyeom and Moo-bi keep running into each other—first at a wedding, where he works as a videographer, and later on an out-of-town shoot that leaves them stranded together after missing the bus.

As they wait, Moo-bi shares an unexpected confession: she wants to direct the greatest romance movie of all time. But on the way back, Ko-gyeom witnesses something more vulnerable—Moo-bi tormented by nightmares of her father’s death.

On the last day of the shoot, Ko-gyeom spots a reporter talking to Moo-bi—the same one who approached her at her father’s funeral. Clearly, there’s a deeper story yet to unfold.

Later, at the afterparty, Ko-gyeom finds Moo-bi outside, smoking alone. For the first time, he gets her to smile. Then, she lets her guard down, revealing why she keeps people at arm’s length—to avoid the pain of being left behind.

And just like that, they share a kiss.

But just as something begins between them, something else falls apart. Ju-a breaks up with Si-jun, leaving their once-solid relationship in shambles.

The Final Scene: A Chilling Cliffhanger

The episode closes with Moo-bi’s voiceover, speaking about Ko-gyeom leaving her. As the words sink in, we’re hit with an eerie final image—a car sinking into the water.

A Kiss, A Disappearance, and an Unwelcome Reunion

If you thought Melo Movie couldn’t get any more dramatic after the first episode’s heartbreaking ending—think again. Episode 2 takes us on an emotional rollercoaster of longing, missed chances, and an unexpected reunion that no one (especially Moo-bi) saw coming.

While Moo-bi tries to bury herself in work—taking her mentor’s advice to “work it off” and focus on her budding career—Ko-gyeom is living a completely different reality.

The reason for his sudden disappearance? His older brother, Ko-jun, was in a devastating accident. Overnight, Ko-gyeom’s life shifts from chasing his acting dreams to being a full-time caretaker. With Ko-jun now confined to a wheelchair, Ko-gyeom puts everything on hold—finding work, supporting them both, and leaving his past life behind. Eventually, he lands a job as a movie critic, but the years slip away before he realizes it.

Fast forward five years, and Moo-bi has finally made her debut as a director. At her film’s premiere, a familiar voice emerges from the audience during the Q&A. It’s Ko-gyeom.

His question? “Why does your romance movie have a fatalistic ending?”

Moo-bi refuses to answer, and Ko-gyeom instantly regrets asking. The tension is palpable.

Meanwhile, Moo-bi’s childhood friends have taken drastically different paths. Si-jun is still struggling to break into the music industry, stuck in a cycle of part-time jobs. Ju-a, on the other hand, has cut ties—not just with Si-jun but with Ko-gyeom too—finding success as a screenwriter.

Ko-gyeom reconnects with Director Mo, the filmmaker he used to work for as an extra. When he joins the director at a retrospective for Moo-bi’s mentor, fate strikes again—he runs into Moo-bi.

But this time, she doesn’t let him walk away without answers.

“Were you sick? Did someone die? Did you commit a crime and get locked up?” she demands, her anger bubbling over.

Ko-gyeom, however, is unable to explain himself. And that silence? It’s all Moo-bi needs to turn her back on him, leaving him with one final request:

“Don’t ever show up in front of me again.”

Moo-bi might have made it clear that she never wants to see Ko-gyeom again, but in classic K-drama fashion, the universe decides otherwise.

The very next day, she discovers that Ko-gyeom has moved in—right next door.

As if the emotional turmoil wasn’t enough, the episode ends with a gut-wrenching epilogue.

Three years ago, Ko-gyeom had seen Moo-bi. He had tried to meet her. But just as he was about to approach, an emergency call from the hospital pulled him away. By the time he was free to reach out, Moo-bi had already blocked him.

A cruel twist of fate kept them apart. Now, with them living side by side, it’s only a matter of time before unresolved feelings resurface.

DramaZen's Opinion

A Heart-Wrenching Start to a Promising Drama

If the first two episodes of Melo Movie are any indication, we’re in for an emotional rollercoaster of love, loss, and second chances. Right from the start, this drama pulls you in with its nostalgic, almost cinematic feel—fitting for a story centered around two people whose lives have been shaped (and scarred) by movies.

Ko-gyeom is instantly likable, the kind of guy who lights up every room he enters. His dream of becoming an actor might not align with his actual talent, but his warmth makes him impossible to root against. Meanwhile, Moo-bi is his complete opposite—reserved, guarded, and deeply cynical about the very industry she’s trying to conquer. Their contrasting energies make their interactions electric, from their first few encounters to that fateful kiss… and then, just like that, Ko-gyeom disappears.

Episode 2 only deepens the heartbreak. Learning the reason behind Ko-gyeom’s disappearance makes it even more painful—he didn’t leave because he wanted to, but because life forced his hand. The five-year time skip hits hard, especially with the missed opportunities and lingering misunderstandings between him and Moo-bi. And just when we think they’ll part ways for good, fate decides to have a little fun—because now, they’re neighbors.

The drama is already serving up all the angst, with the perfect balance of humor, warmth, and gut-wrenching emotion. If the rest of the series keeps up this level of storytelling, we’re in for something truly special.