With a chilling lead performance and a morally complex premise, the SBS drama “Queen Mantis” has become an unexpected hit, dominating the Friday-Saturday ratings and climbing to the top spot on Netflix Korea. The series centers on Jung I-shin (played by the formidable Go Hyun-jung), a notorious murderer who targeted men who preyed on women and children. After 23 years in prison, she is granted a temporary release to help police investigate a copycat killer, forcing a reunion with her estranged son, detective Cha Su-yeol (played by Jang Dong-yoon).
The drama’s core tension lies in I-shin’s contradictory nature. She appears to be a loving mother desperate to reconnect with her son, yet she is also a remorseless killer who torments and manipulates him. With the finale approaching, the show leaves viewers and critics debating the central, disturbing question: what are her true motives?
The provocative SBS drama “Queen Mantis.”
The Enigma of a Mother’s Heart
The primary debate surrounding “Queen Mantis” is whether Jung I-shin’s actions are driven by genuine maternal love or pure psychopathy. While she is far from an ordinary mother, there are compelling arguments that she is not entirely devoid of affection. Some critics believe her primary motivation for cooperating with the investigation was a powerful, human desire to see her son again after more than two decades.
Evidence of this can be seen in the subtle details of her performance. In the scene where she first meets Su-yeol as an adult and calls him by his birth name, her hands tremble and her eyes waver, betraying a crack in her hardened facade. Furthermore, when she first confessed to her crimes years ago, her primary condition was the protection of her young son. This suggests a deep-seated regret, not for the murders themselves, but for abandoning her child and branding him the “son of a murderer.”
On the other hand, the show presents a terrifying alternative. Su-yeol himself believes his mother kills simply because she enjoys it, arguing, “She chooses people who have done something wrong, just to justify killing them.” The series deliberately blurs this line, leaving her true nature ambiguous. This is further complicated by what some see as a lack of convincing motivation for her transformation. Before her first murder, she is shown as a warm mother, but she suddenly becomes someone who derives pleasure from killing, a narrative leap that some find unconvincing.
Go Hyun-jung delivers a powerful performance as the serial killer mother.
A Son Caught Between Hope and Fear
The psychological turmoil of detective Cha Su-yeol provides the drama’s emotional anchor. He is a man obsessed with “living righteously,” likely having never even littered in his life, as a direct reaction to his mother’s legacy. This obsession is rooted in a deep-seated fear that he has inherited her violent tendencies, a fear so profound that he refuses to have children of his own.
Despite hating the woman his mother became, he can’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity and hope. When he learns that she once changed their identities to protect him, he visits her with a peace offering of her favorite coffee. His subsequent fury and disappointment when she escapes reveal just how much he was clinging to the idea that “maybe my mother isn’t entirely evil” or “she does love me.” The drama expertly amplifies the universal parent-child dynamic of love and hate by casting the two as a detective and a ruthless criminal.
However, some critics have found Jang Dong-yoon’s portrayal of this inner conflict to be “slightly stiff,” particularly in moments of high emotion. A key scene where he confesses his darkest fears to his wife—”I’m scared of myself. Do I like the smell of blood?”—was noted as being particularly disappointing.
Jang Dong-yoon plays the conflicted detective and son.
A Powerful Lead in a Flawed Production
While the psychological drama is compelling, the series suffers from several narrative weaknesses that are largely masked by its lead star. Go Hyun-jung’s performance is universally praised as “unmatched.” Her casual, almost sensual description of murder—”When a saw cuts through the neck bones from side to side, the torso vibrates. Drrrr, drrrr”—is pure psychopathy, instantly freezing the atmosphere and reminding viewers of the show’s thriller roots. The tension is palpably different in scenes with and without her.
Unfortunately, her powerful presence tends to overshadow the rest of the production. The supporting cast feels “dull and frustrating” in comparison. Subplots, such as one involving an ace investigator’s divorce, feel unnecessary and serve only to detract from the central story. That same investigator’s impulsive actions, which lead to a suspect’s escape, have been criticized as unrealistic for a seasoned professional.
The police procedural elements are another significant weak point. The investigation is riddled with so many flaws that it becomes distracting. Viewers have questioned why it took the police so long to find a victim trapped in a hospital laundry machine and how they failed to track the culprit’s route despite numerous security cameras. Most critically, the show’s main premise—that I-shin is helping the investigation—has yet to be convincingly demonstrated, leaving audiences wondering what she has actually done to help.
Directorial Style and the Future of K-Dramas
The series is helmed by director Byun Young-joo, who is known for her work on human rights issues. Her signature is evident in moments like a detailed explanation of gender-affirming surgery by a transgender character.
At only eight episodes, “Queen Mantis” follows the modern trend of shorter, OTT-style dramas. However, despite its brevity, the pacing often feels “sluggish rather than tight and concise.” While shorter seasons are a smart strategy to attract modern audiences, this series doesn’t quite master the format. The trend toward intense, provocative, and fast-paced dramas is seen as inevitable in an era of short-form content, which unfortunately means that slower, more subtle dramas—likened to a bowl of plain Pyongyang cold noodles—are losing their place in the television landscape.
