‘Typhoon Family’ (2025) Netflix Series Review - Chaotic Charm Meets Corporate Melodrama

I’ll give Typhoon Family this much: it knows how to make an entrance. Episode 1 storms in like a drama student who just learned the word “gravitas” and can’t stop using it. Within the first fifteen minutes, we’ve got family tension, economic doom, romantic near-collisions, and at least three people sweating over spreadsheets. It’s ambitious, stylish, and emotionally loaded—and also wildly uneven, self-serious, and occasionally so on-the-nose it might as well come with a PowerPoint presentation.

Let’s start with the good news before I start complaining like a disappointed drama uncle. The show looks fantastic. The cinematography bathes every crisis in a muted, moody glow; Seoul’s 1990s skyline feels nostalgic without being overly aestheticized, and even the office spaces have this lived-in authenticity that’s rare in glossy Netflix productions. The direction by Kim Sang-woo is purposeful: the way he tracks Tae-pung walking through the company corridors before his father’s collapse builds a sense of dread without spelling it out. Every frame has intention, even when the script doesn’t.

In terms of acting, the cast carries the weight of more than their script deserves. Jun-ho Lee plays Tae-pung with just the right amount of arrogance and heartbreak; he is so effective at being dislikable that you start wishing for his moral failure to see how low he’ll actually go. Kim Min-ha plays Oh Mi-seon, and she becomes the emotional strength of the show, finding quiet elegance in a show that, for the most part, forgets what subtlety means. The two eventually reach moments of interaction that are temporary, accidental, and awkward; when they likely could depict an authentic relationship in hysterics rather than loud proclamations of business model metaphors. Even side characters feel distinct, like the smug rival, the exhausted mother, or the desperate employees; all convincingly exhibit exhaustion of some kind of pre-crisis era.

But back to the subject at hand, let's not pretend this episode will get any awards. Typhoon Family also nearly trips over every narrative device they introduce. If anything, the storytelling is as subtle as a CEO doing karaoke about the importance of fiscal responsibility. We are given exposition dumps in dialogue that sounds like a rejected accounting lecture, "The liquidity ratio at the company is starting to decline, " as if the audience may faint out of ignorance. The writers clearly wanted to make the corporate plot accessible, but instead they treat viewers like we’ve never heard of “debt.”

The pacing is also really strange. The first half zips through scenes as if it assumes you have seen its trailer: a dance at a club with Tae-pung, a worried Mi-seon with ledgers, and a man being aggressive about interest rates. Then the second half slows to the point where I feel like I’m actually watching a financial crisis unfold in real-time. The tonal balance is also fragile. One minute you're watching Tae-pung dancing shirtless with smug delight, then all of a sudden you see his father gripping his chest, all in slow motion. Emotional whiplash disguised as prestige drama.

Finally, I can't deny the episode has some chaotic charm. There's something refreshing, at least to me, about a show that is this sincere about its melodrama in a time when irony typically reigns supreme. Even the emotional beats, while staggered, feel genuine. Lee Jun-ho sells grief when Tae-pung sees the after effects of his father’s death, which is restrained enough from seeming like an audition video for a crying competition. You can feel the potential for authentic human storytelling lying below its weight of drama.

But oh, the dialogue. At times, you feel that a panel of tax auditors translated the script. People don't talk like that unless they're billing emotional overtime. There isn't even a full ounce of earnestness attached to each "I'm sorry." Every moment of meaning comes tagged with a moral lesson. "Responsibility is not inherited, it's earned!" one character announces, and somewhere, a film professor is applauding. I understand that the creators are trying to blend family drama with an examination of financial ethics, but sometimes, less is more—and Typhoon Family clearly missed the memo while they were busy laminating their motivational posters.

Thematically, Episode 1 wants to unpack questions of generational accountability—how the spoils of wealth are passed down along with the baggage of conditions created from parents' ambitions. That's a strong take-off point. The trouble is, the series doesn't quite trust us to see into the nuance itself. We are fed every theme and idea twice, and once through an exaggerated flashback. In effect, we see a series that ends up both emotionally compelling and extremely tiring—as if being lectured and hugged at the same time.

If I seem conflicted, it's because I am. In one respect, I respect the ambition. Typhoon Family dares to mix corporate intrigue with personal tragedy, even to the point of setting a moral battle over economic failure instead of it being a plot point. It is stylish, emotionally overwrought, and, at times, even beautiful. In another respect, it is a melodramatic juggernaut that sometimes confuses shouting for storytelling. Typhoon Family feels like, if it has the sad piano theme reflected in the volume of the guesses, you'll forget the gaps of logic in the plot.

The last part of the episode—the father collapsing, Tae-pung arriving helplessly, and the eerie stillness afterward—works. Of course, it’s predictable, but it works again because it earns the sentiment through pacing and restraint. It is also one of those fleeting moments where direction, acting, and music all come together perfectly. Then, just as you catch breath, the episode ends with an ominous preview montage teasing a revenge story, a romance story, and at least one boardroom betrayal per minute. Subtlety may be dead, but entertainment is alive and well.

So, what’s the verdict from someone who spent the whole episode alternating between admiration and mild irritation? Typhoon Family Episode 1 is an impressively messy start—half a gripping family saga, half an unintentional parody of one. It’s like watching a drama that knows exactly what makes it good and insists on repeating it until it’s slightly bad again. The show is visually confident, emotionally ambitious, and narratively wobbly. I rolled my eyes, I laughed at moments that weren’t meant to be funny, and I still can’t wait for Episode 2.

In short, Typhoon Family is the kind of show that makes you both grateful and mildly concerned for Korean television’s future. It’s moving and ridiculous, polished and chaotic, a storm that sometimes forgets where it’s blowing. But hey, if every family drama were this loud, awkward, and strangely heartfelt, maybe we’d all tune in more often just to see what falls apart next.

Final Score- [5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times