In contrast to criticisms that the plot and relationships have been simplified, my initial suspicion is that the film attempts to settle even the emotional damage inflicted on a friend through a card game. The relationship between Jang Tae-young and Park Tae-young, who have been friends since their school days and achieved success together in the online casino business, is shattered by betrayal, and Jang Tae-young, the survivor, learns poker and returns to the game for revenge. In this narrative structure, I see both the ambition and the limitations of the film. The story, which initially asked “Why did a friend become an enemy?”, shifts its focus to “How will that enemy be defeated?”. If the reasons for losing a friend can be calculated through cards, then even the counseling room should have a dealer.
Choi Guk-hee stated, “I tried to capture the desires of human beings.” The desire I depict is not for money, but for recognition. For Park Tae-young, Jang Tae-young’s good fortune is an insult that diminishes the value of his own efforts, while also being an asset of their joint venture. Although they worked together, the applause goes only to one person. While profits can be divided in the partnership records, it is impossible to distribute the favor that others show. The setting that brings this imbalance into the realm of friendship is sharp. The problem lies in the fact that understanding that pain and justifying the choice to destroy a friendship are separate things.
No Jae-won’s Park Tae-young embodies a sense of timing and inferiority, which were specifically evaluated even in the positive reviews. On the other hand, some critics pointed out that the relationship in the latter half was resolved too simply, as a mere plot twist. I consider this discrepancy to be a central issue of the work. My hypothesis is as follows: The relationship drama, which followed the characters’ desires, was incorporated into a series of events: a fall, a period of training, and revenge. This process pushed aside the complex emotions, using them as material to prepare for the final confrontation. Since the final outcome is not confirmed, I will not fabricate it. However, the ability to regain control and the ability to understand people are different. The risk I identified from the available materials is this: submitting a “passing certificate” for the revenge exam instead of the “answer sheet” for the relationship drama.
This film attempts to settle accounts with a friend using a gambling table as a means
From the very beginning, the premise of two friends with the same name sets a high bar. While Jang Tae-young and Park Tae-young did not come from completely different worlds, they share a common past and achieved success through the same business. However, one of them feels that their own share is diminishing when they look at the other. The closer the comparison, the more specific the feeling of jealousy. The good fortune of an unknown wealthy person is news, but the good fortune of a friend sitting next to you is a daily report card. This premise creates a reason to examine the friendship before the betrayal, rather than focusing solely on the shock of the betrayal.
Therefore, the structure that brings people together for a final gamble becomes more rigid. The ability to read an opponent’s choices at a card game is not the same as the ability to understand the opponent’s pain. Even if Jang Tae-young anticipates Park Tae-young’s bet, that alone does not explain why a shared success became an insult to one person. A revenge drama requires a moment of defeating the enemy. A relationship drama requires the time to fully bear the fact that that enemy was once a friend. Simply placing these two requirements on the same table does not automatically resolve the issue.
I connect this issue to the point made by Yonhap News, which noted that relationships built up in the first half were resolved in the latter half through a simple reversal. Since I have not been able to confirm the specific details of this reversal, I will refrain from writing about what was reversed. My speculation is that a familiar narrative structure pressured the story to transform complex relationships into a more easily digestible event. Revealing the details of a betrayal and understanding the emotional process that led to it are different things. The former can be hidden and then revealed, while the latter requires persuading someone who has shared a long history with you. Treating the breakdown of a long-standing friendship as a matter of recovering money may return the money, but it fails to provide an explanation.
The director designed the betting system, but he did not deliver the suspense
I evaluate the accuracy of the poker scenes and the tension of the film as separate elements. Choi Guk-hee stated, “Every poker hand that appears in the film was designed in collaboration with professional poker players, and not only the amount of the bets but also the betting tendencies of each character were carefully determined.” This choice deserves praise. It is a design that transforms betting into a reflection of a character’s personality. When some characters are willing to take risks while others avoid losses, different aspects of their humanity are revealed, even with the same cards. Instead of simply portraying the game as an expensive prop, the filmmakers created rules that translate desire into action.
However, the fact that a character’s personality is written in the design documents does not mean that the audience perceives that personality. The audience is not here to read a character analysis report. They need to understand what they stand to lose and why the opponent’s choices are threatening in order for the betting amounts to feel like a source of pressure. Choi Seon-eun, who gave the film a 5-point rating, pointed out that the film focuses more on revenge and physical confrontation than on psychological warfare. Park Pyung-sik also gave it a 5-point rating, expressing nostalgia for a “taek-kwon-do” film centered on hand techniques. I will not use these two reviews as evidence that poker is portrayed inaccurately. How well a game is prepared and how much impact it has on the plot is a separate question.
My conjecture is that the driving forces behind the sophisticated game and the revenge plot demanded different paces. While strategic maneuvering allows for deliberation, a revenge plot accelerates conflict. If the latter takes precedence, even the characters placed in the game are pushed into a process of resolving the conflict. Since I have not confirmed the specific cards and editing, I will refrain from making any error judgments. Instead, I will clearly point out the gap between the production intent and the achieved criticism. Consultation ensures the accuracy of the script, but it does not guarantee the audience’s engagement.
What I particularly appreciate is not just the amount of money involved, but also the fact that the game defines the betting tendencies of each character. If you simply label someone who bets a lot as greedy, the character description becomes a superficial label. The same large bet can be confidence for one person, a desperate attempt to gain recognition for another, or an act of trying to intimidate an opponent. This is my interpretation, considering the possibility of the director’s design, rather than a confirmation of the actual individual scenes. To reveal the rivalry between the two Taeyungs within the game, such nuances are essential. Instead of adding dialogue that explains their desires, the game makes their choices different *because* of their desires. What I praise is the effort to place the characters within the rules, rather than simply the amount of poker knowledge. It’s a promise to make the characters play the cards differently *because* of their personalities, rather than simply writing their personalities on the cards.
Park Tae-young’s feelings of inferiority are understandable, but betrayal requires a separate approval process
In my opinion, what Park Tae-young envies is not his friend’s money, but the recognition his friend receives. They achieved共同 success through their combined efforts, but as more attention is directed towards Jang Tae-young, Park Tae-young’s contributions are pushed into the background. Sharing the money would not resolve this feeling. Compensation can be calculated, but respect cannot be transferred. Park Tae-young envies his friend, but he cannot tolerate the situation where he feels compelled to envy him. This involves a much deeper self-assessment than simple greed.
No Jae-won’s acting is a point of praise that both critics highlighted. However, I will not praise him as if I personally observed every nuance of his expressions and gestures. Lee Ja-yeon of Cine21 evaluated his acting progress and gave him a score of 6. Yonhap News Agency pointed out the aspects of jealousy, inferiority complex, and ugliness. I appreciate the fact that these emotions coexist within a single character. If he had been portrayed solely as a malicious betrayer from the beginning, the friendship would have simply been a device to lull the victim into a false sense of security. The desire to see a friend fail, while also loving that friend, is the core element that makes this relationship so complex.
However, the betrayal that occurs during the Vietnam business trip requires a separate consideration. Choices that undermine the foundation of shared success cannot be approved based solely on the desire for recognition. Since there are choices that demand a share of the credit or end a partnership, the film has the burden of explaining why Park Tae-young chose that path and the destruction of his friend. It is not about demanding compliant management from a criminal enterprise, but about understanding why destruction seemed like the only option. I will not definitively state that the foreshadowing of the betrayal was insufficient. My speculation is that the arrangement aims to transform feelings of comparison into the starting point of a revenge plot. However, the actor may have accepted the pain, but that does not mean the script’s actions were justified. Complaining about performance evaluations and then eliminating a business partner is not a personnel issue; it is a criminal matter.
Jang Tae-young learned to play poker; whether he learned anything about people is another matter
I do not refer to Jang Tae-young’s training as simply “automatic growth.” A person who rose to the center of business through innate luck and favor, and who was betrayed, learns poker from Kwak Dong-wook and returns to the game for revenge. This trajectory clearly represents a process of regaining lost abilities. A person who relied on the kindness of others and their own luck is now preparing for a fight. However, the increased skill and deeper understanding must be evaluated separately. Reading an opponent’s cards does not necessarily reveal the years spent together.
It does not mean that Jang Tae-young is responsible for his friend’s jealousy. Imposing an obligation on someone to receive less affection from a popular person is not friendship, but rather a quota on affection. What I am demanding is not guilt, but a change in perspective. Reflecting on why recognition, which was naturally given to oneself, was so desperate for a colleague, is possible without forgiving betrayal. The moment revenge becomes the goal, this question easily fades into the background. While it may be useful in identifying an enemy’s weaknesses, it does not immediately improve one’s chances of success in re-evaluating one’s own life.
My speculation is that the “training” genre trope was beneficial in restoring the ability for Jang Tae-young to take action. I acknowledge the choice not to keep the protagonist constantly portrayed as a victim. However, I have not been able to confirm, based on available materials, the independent desires of Gwak Dong-wook and Jang Tae-young’s life after his revenge. I will not add details about the master teaching something beyond technique, nor will I fabricate a redemption arc where Jang Tae-young comes to understand people. The only change I can currently acknowledge is that he has regained the ability to re-enter the system. He has not completed a “revenge certification” and has not undergone “relationship re-education.”
Houseflies may explain the crash, but they won’t write a letter of resignation detailing the betrayal
The nightmare in which Jang Tae-young becomes a dung beetle and Park Tae-young watches with a smile perfectly captures the feeling of falling. I highly appreciate the brutality of this image. A person who was once at the center of fortune and favor now becomes a despicable being in front of his friends. What is more painful than business failure is the fear that someone who once stood at the same height as me is now watching my humiliation. Instead of explaining the fall with lengthy dialogue, it reduces the very essence of human dignity. The significant loss in this scene is not money, but dignity.
It is not necessary to analyze the plot for inconsistencies, as it presents a stark contrast to the protagonist’s previous fortune. When applying the logic of reality to a nightmare, the focus should be on the film itself, not the reviewer. A betrayed person may fear that the other party is enjoying their downfall. However, that fear does not necessarily reflect the other party’s true feelings. The “Park Tae-young” who is smiling here is not the real Park Tae-young, but rather a Park Tae-young created by Jang Tae-young’s fear. This distinction transforms the nightmare from evidence of a relationship into an expression of pain. Understanding Jang Tae-young’s humiliation and proving Park Tae-young’s malice are two separate processes.
My conjecture is as follows: This nightmare serves as a device to quickly establish the feeling of revenge by connecting the demonic imagery in the title to the protagonist’s downfall. It is effective for that purpose. However, I cannot definitively state that this image actually replaces the explanation of the motive, as I have not found any actions or foreshadowing that confirm betrayal. The line I draw is clear: The narrative must convincingly explain why Park Tae-young’s jealousy escalated to the destruction of his friend. It is not possible to simply depict the extent of the victim’s suffering and expect the audience to accept the perpetrator’s actions without further explanation. The dream is the victim’s testimony, not the perpetrator’s confession.
What elevates this nightmare beyond the transformation itself is the presence of the friend who is watching. If Jang Tae-young had transformed alone, it could have ended as a grotesque image emphasizing his misery. However, because Park Tae-young is watching with a smile, the fall becomes a comparative event. While the attention of others is focused on Jang Tae-young, Park Tae-young is the one who feels the humiliation. In the nightmare, Jang Tae-young experiences the humiliation under the gaze of his friend. In my interpretation, even as the positions of the two individuals are reversed, the structure of measuring one’s self-worth by the gaze of the other remains the same. This connection is far more insightful than simply consuming the demon from the title as a decorative element. Even if the winner changes, the judgment of comparison never ceases.
Even with the influx of international capital, the problems of the two friends do not automatically become more severe
Kaneko has shown interest in the Korean online casino business, creating a platform that involves major players from Japan and Vietnam. This represents a point where personal betrayal intersects with the dealings of international criminal capital. I do not fault this expansion itself. If a business that two friends have built together attracts the attention of larger capital, the breakdown of their friendship can escalate from personal feelings to issues of control over the business. However, the increase in business partners and the deepening of relationships are separate matters. While the list of participants has grown, if the two friends continue to view each other in the same way, then what has been internationalized is not the conflict, but the scale of the event.
What I am questioning is how Ganeko’s actions change the nature of the competition. For Park Tae-young, his friend’s good fortune was already an insult that diminished the value of his own efforts. Does this insult become greater in a larger context, or do new interests disrupt the jealousy? There is a possibility that Jang Tae-young also faces a conflict between revenge and business interests. However, I have not been able to confirm Ganeko’s personal interests or his final decision. Instead of praising the film for realizing this possibility, I can only say that it remains unconfirmed.
Yonhap News evaluated the final installment as a familiar series, adhering to its established formula. While the scope has expanded from the first film in 2006 to the final chapter in 2026, the core elements of training and the final showdown remain. My speculation is that the final chapter chose to expand its scale while also serving as a culmination of relationships and a grand finale characteristic of the series. It is unclear who made what demands of the production team. What I am evaluating is not the political ideology, but the characters. While the presence of prominent figures may increase the potential for conflict, it does not provide additional explanations for why friends become enemies. Even with more stamps in their passports, the characters’ internal struggles do not become more profound.
The person who asks the most accurate questions is often the most helpful
I will not conflate the grievances that Park Tae-young raises with the betrayal he chose. It is not necessarily true that someone who works hard will be more loved. Conversely, someone who is less loved does not have the right to destroy a friendship. These two aspects must be separated for the film’s central questions to remain relevant. The premise that two friends with the same name and a shared past have different fortunes and levels of recognition highlights the uncomfortable truth that even while sharing in success, one side can still cultivate a sense of defeat. The problem lies in the fact that even if one eliminates the other, the feeling of not receiving due credit for one’s own contributions does not necessarily disappear.
In Choi Gook-hee’s attempt to portray the original work’s themes of jealousy, betrayal, and resentment, I see a promise to explore the origins of desire. However, this clashes directly with Yonhap News’s criticism that the latter half of the story simplifies the relationships. While the characters’ inner turmoil is conveyed in a complex manner, the resolution process is presented in a simplified way. My speculation is that the revenge plot prioritizes the possibility of punishing Park Tae-young over understanding his grievances. While it becomes clear who the audience should be rooting for, the reasons behind the characters’ actions become less clear.
I am not advocating for the justification of betrayal, but rather, I am urging that we should not end the discussion with a simple condemnation of the betrayer. I do not expect this judgment to be based on an unconfirmed final outcome. The ability to defeat a friend is different from proving one’s own worth. If this distinction is missed, both individuals are trapped in the same comparison, but for different reasons. I interpret the failure that Yonhap News points out, which is that the relationship has become simplified, as follows: Desire created the problem, but the revenge drama provided the solution. The moment jealousy is designated as the villain, the organ that gave rise to the jealousy is excluded from being considered worthy of appreciation.
The reason for disliking a friend was more important than the skill of defeating them
I appreciate the questions this film raises, but I give it a lower score for the way it handles those questions. The premise, where two friends with the same name and a shared past experience different distributions of luck and recognition, is well-executed. The feeling of being left behind, of succeeding together but feeling like you are the only one who failed, is a powerful emotion. Park Tae-young’s jealousy stems from this very feeling. The specific critique of envy and inferiority that No Jae-won portrays goes beyond a simple plot device and conveys a deeper human problem. I also commend the image of Jang Tae-young’s downfall being compressed into a “dung beetle’s nightmare.” This conveys the horror of losing dignity in front of a friend, which more accurately captures the destructive power of the relationship than simply stating that he lost money. The design of revealing desires through betting behavior, rather than explicitly explaining them, is also a commendable ambition.
However, the meticulous preparation and the artistic achievements should be evaluated separately. The criticisms regarding the weakened conflict and the simplified relationships in the latter half are not minor flaws; they directly undermine the promises made by the film. If each character is assigned a specific inclination, the choices made in the game should reflect that, and if the film centers on the breakdown of friendship, the emotional journey leading to betrayal should be more prominent than the information about the plot twist. My conjecture is that the momentum of the revenge plot rushed these two elements, prematurely resolving them in a final showdown. While I acknowledge the change in Jang Tae-young’s ability to react, I would not characterize it as a growth in understanding others. The ability to read an opponent’s moves does not explain the cause of the friendship’s collapse.
My rating is 2.5 out of 5 points. The sharp starting point of “recognition competition,” the portrayal of Park Tae-young’s psychology, and the images that encapsulate the fall contribute to this score. On the other hand, criticisms that point to the simplification of relationships in the latter half and the weakening of the psychological warfare directly challenge the promises made by the director. This 2.5-point rating is not a final score that validates all the choices made in the film, but rather a preliminary assessment that contrasts the confirmed narrative with the criticisms. Because the ultimate outcome and the fates of the characters are not confirmed, they are not used as the basis for this judgment. I conclude that this film should have explored for a longer time why one should believe in the necessity of winning over a friend, rather than simply how to win. Submitting a “win rate” for the review of the breakdown of friendship would result in immediate rejection of the submission.
Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)
Does understanding Park Tae-young’s jealousy justify the act of betrayal?
I distinguish between understanding emotions and approving of actions. I can understand the pain of having one’s own achievements overshadowed by a friend’s good fortune. However, that pain does not grant the right to destroy the friend. On the contrary, the more specific the emotion, the more detailed explanation is required to justify the choice of betrayal.
If the table was designed by professional poker players, shouldn’t we acknowledge the game’s tension?
Consultations are a basis for creating an accurate game, not a guarantee of tension. The audience should be able to understand what choices pose a threat. I am not claiming any game errors because I was unable to verify the specific hands. The focus is on the gap between the production team’s preparation and the pressure experienced by the audience.
Isn’t Jang Tae-young’s journey of training and seeking revenge itself a form of growth?
I acknowledge the change that allows one to develop the ability to respond to challenges. However, the advancement of technology and the change in understanding people are separate matters. Understanding a friend’s betting habits does not necessarily mean understanding why that friend might dislike you. I will not insert reflections or redemption into an uncertain ending.
Is the “dung fly nightmare” a scene that proves Park Tae-young’s cruelty?
I consider this image to be a concentrated representation of Jang Tae-young’s humiliation and fear. The laughter of Park Tae-young in the nightmare reveals how the victim fears the other person. However, this alone cannot definitively determine Park Tae-young’s actual motives. A dream is the victim’s statement, not the perpetrator’s confession.
Is it permissible to criticize the structure of a work without confirming the final outcome?
If the scope of the judgment is limited, it is possible. Based on confirmed instances of betrayal, training, and revenge, and the secured post-production reviews, I addressed the issue of how relationships are determined by the outcome of the competition. I did not assert who won or who died, nor what the final choice was. This rating should be read separately from the final impressions, which have been verified down to the details of the ending.
