INTERVIEW: From Goddess of Romance to Angel of Vengeance: Shin Min Ah Cuts Deep Her Latest Series “KARMA” – kdramadiary
What if the queen of rom-coms traded her trademark charm for cold, calculated revenge? In Karma, Netflix’s latest six-part psychological thriller, Shin Min Ah makes a sharp pivot—literally and figuratively.
Known for her lovable, radiant roles, she returns to the screen as Joo-yeon, a trauma-scarred surgeon whose life takes a chilling turn when a ghost from her darkest days lands in her ER.
The drama premiered on April 4, and from the first cut, it’s clear this isn’t the Shin Min Ah viewers are used to. Joo-yeon is not a woman who wears her emotions on her sleeve; she wears them like armor. After surviving a devastating incident in high school, she’s spent years keeping her pain neatly stitched beneath her pristine white coat—until revenge comes knocking.
Reading the script felt like diving into a tightly wound mystery novel, Shin recalls. Though her character originally appeared mid-story, Joo-yeon was pushed to the forefront during edits, becoming the emotional center of the series. The trauma she carries isn’t just backstory—it’s the engine of the plot. “I didn’t want to play her pain as obvious or loud,” Shin says. “I wanted it to simmer quietly until it boiled over.”
That tension—between restraint and rupture—is what drew her to the role. The script was not just entertaining; it was transformative. As it evolved, so did her character. “At first, we talked about how everyone’s the same,” she says, “but then realized—no, the lead has to stand apart. That decision shaped everything.”
Though she’s adored for her ‘Shinvely’ persona, she doesn’t shy away from the shadows. “It wasn’t a strategy. I just love thrillers. I’ve always wondered how I’d handle a role like this,” she laughs. Karma gave her the chance to stretch her craft in new directions—and she took it without hesitation.
The series doesn’t just tease revenge—it plunges into its murky ethics. In one scene, Joo-yeon drugs a witness and hovers at the edge of no return. But even with the blade in her hand, she doesn’t cross the line. “She was stopped, yes, but I believe she stopped herself,” Shin says. “There’s something powerful about choosing not to become what hurt you.”
Her co-stars added richness to the experience. Park Hae Soo, who plays the eerie ‘Witness Man’, was a terrifying presence on screen—but a warmhearted “angel” behind the scenes. Meanwhile, her first collaboration with Kim Sung Kyun felt surprisingly effortless. “He brought such playfulness that the whole set felt lighter, even during intense scenes.”
Interestingly, the Joo-yeon viewers meet in Karma differs sharply from the original webtoon’s version. Gone is the weary nurse. Here, she’s a skilled doctor—calm, poised, but hiding jagged emotional wounds. Shin leaned into the director’s vision of a monochromatic, emotionally repressed world. “We used dry, colorless lighting and avoided overt expressions. I wanted the audience to feel her pain without her saying a word.”
The series is filled with villains, each worse than the last. But for Shin, one stood out: the loan shark who murdered her father. “Some characters I had no emotional connection to. But with Park Jae-young, the pain was personal—and heavy.”
At its core, KARMA is about karma. “The English title says it all,” Shin reflects. “Bad deeds don’t vanish—they echo. But revenge doesn’t heal trauma. Joo-yeon’s real power comes when she puts the knife down. That’s the choice that defines her.”
Streaming on an OTT platform for the first time, Shin found the global reception thrilling. “People watching it all over the world, reacting in real time—it was surreal,” she says. While she’s tight-lipped about what’s next, she promises big news soon.
With a top-tier cast—Kim Sung Kyun, Lee Hee Joon, Park Hae Soo, Lee Kwang Soo, and Gong Seung Yeon—Karma isn’t just about settling scores. It’s about the scars that shape us, the pain we carry, and the moment we decide to stop bleeding and start healing. And at the center of it all, Shin Min Ah proves that even angels can wield a blade—if only to learn how to lay it down.
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