Bogota: City of the Lost

Written by Hwang Seong-gu & Kim Seong-je and Directed by Kim Seong-je



I’ll start where the story hit me hardest: right in the heart of my own experience. As an immigrant, I can’t stress enough how tough it is to adjust to a new country—its language feels like a puzzle, and its culture shifts constantly. Displacement leaves its mark, but the most painful part often comes from those who are supposed to understand you the most—those who share your roots, your language, your fragile connection to home. That feeling really hit me in Bogotá, a film that seemed to echo parts of my own journey. I’ll admit, though, that my blog is usually a place for the things I truly love—films, stories, and moments that make my heart race. This post is a bit of a detour; Bogotá didn’t take my breath away like some stories do. But I didn’t dislike it—its impact still lingers, even if faintly.

Song Joong-ki, as ever, brings a gravity that’s hard to look away from. His acting flows like a river—steady yet brimming with depth. He carries himself with a quiet subtlety that grounds even the film’s rougher moments. A standout in South Korea’s talent wave, he’s won me over—not just with his skill, but by turning vulnerability into strength. Beyond his undeniable good looks—jokes aside—it’s a visual pleasure to see him on screen.

The film’s portrayal of Bogotá, too, stirred something familiar in me. As a Brazilian, I recognized the textures—the unpolished rhythm of life, the raw, beating pulse of South America. It’s not a postcard city here; it’s alive, flawed, and vivid, free of the tired clichés that often flatten such places on screen. That authenticity drew me in, a hand extended across continents. But where the setting sang, the story stumbled. The characters, though framed by this rich backdrop, felt like sketches left unfinished. Their arcs hovered just out of reach, and I found myself longing to care more than I could. A Reddit user called it “flat and uninteresting,” and while that stings, it’s not entirely wrong—the potential for something gripping was there, but it slipped through the cracks.

Part of the trouble lies in the film’s unsteady dance between tones. It sways from humour to heft, a seesaw that left me dizzy rather than moved. One moment, I’d catch a flicker of levity; the next, a shadow of something heavier—yet neither landed fully. That tug-of-war dulled the emotional resonance, like a song that can’t settle on its key. I wanted to sink into the narrative, to let it hold me, but its indecision kept me at arm’s length.

Still, there’s something bold in its bones. Setting a Korean crime drama against Colombia’s jagged edges breaks the mold of familiar locales, and for that alone, it’s a breath of fresh air. On that note, I can’t help but think of Narco-Saints, another South Korean tale rooted in South America—Suriname, this time. Where Bogotá falters, Narco-Saints weaves its strange soil into a taut, unforgettable story, proving how much a setting can sing when the characters match its melody.

At its heart, Bogotá offers a glimpse of what could be—a collision of worlds, a Korean heartbeat pulsing through Colombian streets. Its visual identity is striking, its premise a spark of originality. Yet predictability creeps in, and the emotional soil feels too thin for its roots to take hold. Some may find solace in its atmosphere alone, a window into a place rarely seen through this lens. But for me, and perhaps for others, the promise lingers just out of reach—compelling, yet unfulfilled.

Image courtesy of Megabox

Comments are closed.