Source : INDIA TODAY NEWS
Netflix’s Korean mystery thriller The Art of Sarah opens in a world of immaculate tailoring, private jets and curated personas, where appearances are currency and truth is endlessly negotiable. Led by Shin Hye-sun and Lee Jun-hyuk, the eight-episode series blends noir intrigue with luxury spectacle, crafting a stylish, psychologically curious drama that grips in parts but falters in execution.
Sarah Kim is a woman who seems to have everything. As the Asia head of an elite luxury fashion house, Boudoir, she moves effortlessly through Seoul’s rarefied circles, commanding admiration and envy in equal measure. But when a woman believed to be Sarah is found dead in a sewer beneath one of the city’s most affluent districts, her life and identity come under scrutiny. Detective Park Mu-gyeong (Lee Jun-hyuk) is assigned to the case, only to discover that almost nothing about Sarah Kim can be verified. As the investigation unfolds, multiple versions of Sarah emerge, forcing the question: who is she really, and was she ever who she claimed to be?
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From the outset, The Art of Sarah establishes its central preoccupation, identity as performance. In an era defined by branding, social media curation and aspirational lifestyles, Sarah’s carefully assembled persona feels unsettlingly familiar. The series suggests that reinvention is not merely a personal choice but a survival tactic in systems that reward illusion over authenticity.
Shin Hye-sun carries the drama with remarkable control. Her Sarah is composed yet brittle, magnetic yet opaque. With subtle shifts in posture, voice and gaze, she keeps the audience guessing — is Sarah a calculating social climber, a woman running from trauma, or a victim of a society that punishes vulnerability? It’s a performance that sustains interest even when the narrative begins to wobble.
The problem lies less in character than in structure. The show relies heavily on fragmented timelines, conflicting testimonies and repeated interrogations, which initially build intrigue but eventually clutter the storytelling. Twists arrive frequently but not always meaningfully, blurring the line between clever misdirection and narrative excess. As a result, the mystery sometimes feels more tangled than tense.
Lee Jun-hyuk’s Detective Mu-gyeong provides a grounded counterpoint to Sarah’s constructed world, but his character is underwritten. He reacts more than he probes, serving as a conduit for revelations rather than a driving force behind them. Several supporting characters drift in and out without leaving much impact, reinforcing the sense that the show is more interested in atmosphere than emotional depth.
Visually, however, The Art of Sarah rarely misses a beat. Fashion is not a mere backdrop but a thematic device, a symbol of aspiration, disguise and emptiness. From couture-filled offices to dimly lit alleyways, the contrast between surface glamour and moral decay is striking. The slick cinematography and moody score elevate even weaker stretches, ensuring the series remains watchable throughout.
The finale leans heavily into ambiguity. By refusing to offer definitive answers about Sarah’s fate, whether she escapes, is punished, or chooses erasure, the show stays true to its thematic core. It’s ambitious till the end. At least it’s consistent there.
At its best, The Art of Sarah is a timely meditation on ambition, image and self-invention in a world obsessed with perception. At its weakest, it loses momentum under the weight of its own twists. Stylish, thought-provoking and occasionally muddled, it’s a drama that intrigues more than it satisfies but one anchored by a compelling central performance that makes the journey worth taking.
All 8 episodes of The Art of Sarah are streaming on Netflix.
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SOURCE :- TIMES OF INDIA
