Review: Infectious optimism of 'It's Okay!'

Korea Herald

27-02-2025

'It's Okay!' emerges as 2025's most refreshing Korean film — a perfect balance of wit and warmth that sneaks up on you
At last year's 74th Berlinale, a little-known Korean film took home the Crystal Bear for Best Feature Film in the Generation Kplus category, a section aimed at audiences up to fourteen. That film was Kim Hye-young's directorial debut, "It's Okay!"
Despite its recognition at the festival, it would take another year for the film to secure a domestic release. Berlinale, it turns out, had a sharp eye — "It's Okay!" stands as one of the finest Korean commercial films of the year.
The story follows In-young (Lee Re), who loses her mother in a fatal car accident at the precise moment of her triumphant performance with a prestigious dance group in Seoul (In a brutal temporal juxtaposition, the pounding percussion of the performance doubles as an ominous buildup to the crash). A year later, In-young has largely ridden out her grief and continues at the dance school, exempt from fees but occasionally harassed by peers. She finds quiet support from her friend and budding love interest Do-yoon (Lee Jung-ha), who works alongside her at a convenience store, and the enigmatic pharmacist Dong-wook (Son Suk-ku). When evicted for unpaid rent, she decides to take residence in her dance school's gym.
The newly appointed artistic director Seol-ah (Jin Seo-yeon) discovers In-young's living arrangement and surprisingly offers her shelter in her immaculate home. What follows is a gradual push-and-pull between two opposing personalities — In-young's restless energy against Seol-ah's rigid control.
"It's Okay!" is a test of limits — an experiment in how far an unshakable brightness can go, whether there is any hardship that cannot be reframed with a hopeful gloss. Such audacity usually collapses into manipulative sentimentality or empty spectacle. But this is a rare case, so unwavering in its conviction and sincerity that even the most hardened cynic can't help but surrender to its charm. And this isn't just emotional sleight of hand; the precise craft and textured composition make its optimism not merely a mood but a convincing statement.
The screenplay's naturalistic dialogue serves as its primary triumph. In-young's daily life is threaded with brisk, sitcom-paced jabs and one-liners. The lines move with such lived-in ease, as if overheard in high school hallways, drawn from the corners of real life. This radiance eclipses the objective hopelessness that might otherwise define an orphan's existence.
First-time director Kim Hye-young may not yet be a household name, but her command of piquant dialogue is no accident. She co-directed the critically acclaimed but commercially overlooked "Be Melodramatic" (2019), a series that divided audiences with its unusually dialogue-driven approach to romance. More tellingly, she served as assistant director on "Extreme Job" (2018), a blockbuster comedy where verbal dexterity mattered as much as its ingenious premise.
Lee Re's performance dazzles in many ways — her infectious smile, the sudden bursts of vulnerability and the effortless physicality of her movements. But above all, it's her spirited command of language that defines the role, the way she delivers each line with a light-footed, mischievous charm, turning each line into a kind of playful defiance. She single-handedly anchors the film's optimism, making it not just credible but enjoyable.
When her dance teammates take a low blow at her for being an orphan, she fires back with a bratty smirk: "Taught myself manners on YouTube — no parents, you see." When her teacher catches her secretly living in the gym, mid-bite of cup noodles, she barely hesitates before offering with cheeky nonchalance: "Want some?" Lee's performance is an unbroken display of wit and nerve that cements her as one of the most promising actors of her generation. Born in 2006, she most recently left an impression as the revenge-obsessed cult girl in Netflix's "Hellbound" — a performance of equal conviction, though cut from an entirely different cloth.
Jin Seo-yeon enters as a stern, unforgiving perfectionist with little patience for disorder but not without her own trauma. Unlike In-young, Seol-ah embodies restraint to the point of asceticism — surviving on vegetable drinks rather than meals. The way the film reshapes her as its most dynamic character, even more so than her teenage students, speaks to the director's subtle command of nuance and texture. When In-young serves her spam — her favorite food — Seol-ah's hesitant bite marks the first crack in her self-imposed discipline.
The supporting cast serves the story well, with conflicts stemming organically from adolescent insecurities rather than simplified villainy. Chung Su-bin plays Na-ri, In-young's wealthy rival weighed down by her mother's expectations. As Na-ri slowly comes to terms with In-young, her narrative arc becomes central to the film's exploration of self-identity and growth. Son Suk-ku delivers a scene-stealing cameo as In-young's unlikely soulmate Dong-wook, his wily humor and laid-back demeanor masking a sincere affection for her.
Towards the end, a 360-degree pan shot sweeps around In-young and Seol-ah as they dance together in the basement, dissolving the rigid, one-sided teacher-student or even mother-daughter dynamic that once seemed to define them.
No longer just a caretaker and dependent, they move in tandem, bound by solidarity shaped through mutual experience of overcoming adversity and growing up.
"It's Okay!" opened in theaters Wednesday.