Sara’s Art Review: Shin Hye-sun puts together a dazzling illusion
The Art of Sarah is a stylish and thought-provoking thriller that highlights themes of ambition and identity in contemporary society. This Netflix series captivates with its compelling cast and visually rich story despite some narrative flaws. Read full review.
Netflix’s Korean mystery thriller The Art of Sarah opens in a world of immaculate tailoring, private jets and curated personality, where appearances are currency and truth is endlessly negotiable. Led by Shin Hye-sun and Lee Joon-hyuk, the eight-episode series blends noir intrigue with luxury spectacle, creating a stylish, psychologically curious drama that grips in parts but falters in execution.
Sara Kim is a woman who has it all. As the Asia Head of Boudoir, an elite luxury fashion house, she moves effortlessly through the rarefied areas of Seoul, garnering both 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 Joon-hyuk) is assigned to the case, only to discover that almost nothing about Sara Kim can be verified. As the investigation progresses, multiple versions of Sarah emerge, raising the question: who is she really, and was she ever who she claimed to be?
From the beginning, The Art of Sarah establishes identity as its central preoccupation, performance. In an era defined by branding, social media curation and aspirational lifestyles, Sara’s carefully crafted persona feels unsettlingly familiar. The series shows that reinvention is not simply an individual choice, but a survival strategy in systems that reward illusion over authenticity.
Shin Hye-sun carries the drama with remarkable control. Its whole remains yet brittle, magnetic yet opaque. With subtle shifts in posture, voice, and gaze, she keeps the audience guessing – is Sara a calculating social climber, a woman fleeing trauma, or a victim of a society that punishes vulnerability? It’s a performance that maintains interest even when the story starts to falter.
The problem lies less in character than structure. The show relies heavily on fragmented timelines, conflicting evidence, and repeated interrogations, which initially create intrigue but ultimately clutter the story. Twists occur frequently but aren’t always meaningful, blurring the line between clever misdirection and narrative excess. As a result, the mystery sometimes feels more complicated than tense.
Lee Joon-hyuk’s detective Mu-gyeong provides a grounded counterpoint to Sara’s constructed world, but his character is underwritten. He reacts more than investigates, acting as a medium rather than a driving force behind the revelations. Various supporting characters pop in and out without making much of an impact, reinforcing that the show is more interested in atmosphere than emotional depth.
Visually, however, The Art of Sarah rarely misses a beat. Fashion is not merely a backdrop, but a thematic device, symbolizing aspiration, disguise and emptiness. From fashion-filled offices to dimly lit streets, the contrast between superficial glamor and moral decadence is striking. The stunning cinematography and moody score elevate even the weaker parts, ensuring that the series remains thoroughly watchable.
The ending leans heavily towards ambiguity. By refusing to provide definitive answers about Sarah’s fate, whether she survives, is punished, or chooses to be erased, the show stays true to its thematic core. It’s ambitious to no 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 speed under the weight of its own turns. Stylish, thought-provoking and occasionally confusing, this is a drama that intrigues more than satisfies but is driven by a compelling central performance that makes the journey worthwhile.
All 8 episodes of The Art of Sara are streaming on Netflix.
