Hong Kyung's Good News: The Final Fingerprint of His Twenties

When he first meets Amugae, you see this perfectly slicked-back pomade hair—three languages flowing, slight cockiness. Elite air traffic controller vibes. But as time goes on, that perfect hair gradually unravels.

The costume team did the same with Beomseok—cardigan colors changing from white to black. After the incident at the boxing ring, back to neutral tones.

Go-myeong's neat pomade slowly falls apart as higher-ups who "spit out bitter and swallow sweet" push him around. External details showing internal collapse.

Here's what I loved—

This guy's pure ambition. Fantasizes about his own statue. But by the end? Cares more than anyone about lives trapped on that plane.

Legs shaking with anxiety, then running into rain with nothing but determination. Hong Kyung captured that emotional whiplash beautifully.

That's not just an actor talking about a role. That's generational testimony.

Go-myeong will feel profound disillusionment toward bureaucrats, but he's still a soldier who must dedicate his life to the state.

When he runs at the end? Not military loyalty. A human individual's judgment based on eyes he saw in that hijacked plane.

A judgment only someone in their twenties can make.

Reality? He's proven to be nothing more than a useful cog in a massive system.

Both characters Hong Kyung played? Incredibly sensitive to status.

Beomseok desperately wanted to be alpha. Sensitive to hierarchy. Misunderstood being pushed lower than "some girl from the streets," completely darkened.

Go-myeong's the same. Thirsty for advancement and glory.

Isn't this something we all have inside us?

Nail a presentation at work, get applause—somewhere inside you feel proud. Then your accomplishment becomes your boss's achievement. Things go wrong? Blame transfers to you.

Unlike senior officials only thinking about self-preservation, there's that moment—what only twenties can do—running down that dark runway following conviction.

Pitiful yet realistic, yet with a heart about to burst.

Most bitter part? Senior officials.

Dark comedy exposing bureaucratic incompetence and cowardly refusal to take responsibility. Ministers fleeing terror scenes, worried about blame.

Go-myeong wears a gaudy gold watch—supposedly presidential gift but really mass-produced tacky souvenir. Same kind his father got for losing both legs in Korean War. Dreams of medals, becoming hero.

Fate? Cannon fodder.

Weak Hero directors said: "Adults' wrongs make children bleed."

Good News is the same. Always lower-ranking workers shedding most blood.

Director Han Jun-hee recalled his high school days as "jungle kingdom"—invisible competition between boys, everyone prepared to overturn everything if a fight broke out.

Even 80-year-old men at senior centers compete to be leaders.

Bureaucratic society? Higher-ups use those below as shields and flee. Take credit, push down responsibility.

Go-myeong's foreign language work—incredibly natural.

Director Byun Sung-hyun was surprised. Usually actors just memorize foreign lines. Hong Kyung started studying Japanese from scratch.

Why?

Starting with hiragana, meeting with Japanese, English, air traffic control teachers three times weekly.

Doesn't feel like "acting"—sounds like real language someone's been speaking their whole life.

What Go-myeong showed at the end—a burning heart.

Scene where he enters hijacked plane to persuade terrorists. Moving as your burning heart commands—isn't that youth's privilege?

Hong Kyung said:

Fingerprint.

Such a powerful expression. Makes sense coming from someone who refuses to be cynical about his generation's struggles.The Real Yodo-go Incident: When Korea Became "North Korea" for a Day

Let's talk about the historical event behind this film.

March 31, 1970—Japan Airlines Flight 351 hijacked by nine Japanese Red Army members. Demanded to go to North Korea. Running out of fuel, had to land at Gimpo Airport in Seoul.

With only 30 minutes before landing, South Korea pulled off the most bizarre operation imaginable. Took down every Korean flag, every UN flag, raised North Korean flags at Gimpo.

At the height of ideological conflict, North Korean flag hoisted on South Korean soil for the first time.

Special forces dressed in People's Army uniforms. Residents given bouquets. US military withdrew. Complete tearful charade.

Air traffic controller Chae Hope-seok continued pretending to be North Korean controller, successfully landing Yodo-go at Gimpo.

Red Army hijackers refused to leave plane. Deeply suspicious. Kept demanding Kim Il-sung's portrait, North Korean newspapers.

Then, absurdly, Red Army leader asked soldier by plane: "Here Seoul?"

Soldier innocently answered: "Yes."

Busted.

South Korea vs. Red Army hijackers. Three days.

South Korean government adamant: plane NOT going to North Korea. "Release passengers first, then we'll let you go."

Hijackers threatened to blow themselves up, refused.

Eventually Japan's Vice Minister flew to Korea, exchanged himself for passenger hostages. Yodo-go flew to Pyongyang.

Red Army's guns and bombs? Fake. Complete fakes.

While Japanese pilots and Vice Minister became national heroes, Korea's response to its own people? Utterly shameful.

Three days after incident, Chae Hope-seok received call from Air Force headquarters: "Do not speak about Yodo-go incident. If you open your mouth, we'll shoot you."

Ministry of Defense report completely deleted Chae's contributions, attributed everything to "Japanese pilot's independent judgment."

Chae took off military uniform a year later. Promising young man in twenties who obtained US Federal Aviation Administration controller's license—dreams crushed by his own country.

Unable to tell anyone, spent years drowning in alcohol. Didn't tell even his wife until he turned 63.

This is the real story behind Good News.

Sound familiar?