Young Adult Matters premiered at the Busan International Film Festival in 2020 before reaching wider audiences on streaming. Despite its title suggesting a television series, this is actually a feature film. It tackles teenage pregnancy and institutional neglect with an unflinching honesty rarely seen in mainstream Korean storytelling. This review examines what Young Adult Matters gets right. It also covers where the film stumbles, and why its subject matter still feels genuinely urgent today.

Director Lee Hwan set out to provoke rather than comfort audiences, and that intention shapes nearly every creative choice discussed throughout this review.

What Young Adult Matters Is About

Se-jin, an eighteen-year-old high school student, discovers she is pregnant after her girlfriend dies in a sudden accident. Abandoned by her family and shunned at school, she wanders the streets alone. The film establishes her isolation quickly, without wasting time on unnecessary backstory.

There she meets Joo-young, a runaway who has survived on her own for four years. The two quickly bond, later joined by Jae-pil and Shin-ji, two other teenagers carrying their own quiet damage.

Together, this makeshift family embarks on what the film calls a miscarriage project. They pool resources, take dangerous risks, and confront a society that offers these teenagers almost no legal or emotional support.

Each character brings a different kind of wound to this group, and the film spends time letting those wounds surface naturally rather than rushing toward a tidy resolution.

A Story Adults Don't Want to See

The film's Korean title translates roughly to "Adults Don't Know," and that phrase captures its entire thesis. Every institution meant to protect these teenagers instead abandons them completely.

Se-jin's parents disappear from her life almost entirely, without explanation. Teachers look away from obvious bullying. The systems built to help vulnerable young people simply do not function here. Four kids are left to solve an impossible problem entirely on their own.

This framing gives Young Adult Matters thematic weight, even when individual scenes stumble. The anger directed at institutional failure feels earned, not manufactured for shock value.

The film never lets any single adult off the hook, spreading blame across parents, educators, and a healthcare system that treats a scared teenager as an inconvenience rather than someone in crisis. Even minor characters reinforce this pattern of casual indifference.

Performances That Carry the Weak Spots

Lee Yoo-mi, later recognized internationally for her role in Squid Game, plays Se-jin with a fragile intensity that anchors the entire film. Her performance sells emotional beats the script sometimes rushes past too quickly.

Ahn Hee-yeon, known to many as Hani from the group EXID, brings toughness to Joo-young. She never loses the character's underlying vulnerability underneath that hardened exterior. The chemistry between these two leads carries several otherwise shaky stretches.

Lee Hwan wears three hats on this project: he wrote it, directed it, and plays Jae-pil, one of the four teenagers at the story's center. That triple role gives him unusual control over how the ensemble's chemistry comes together on screen, and it likely explains why the group dynamic feels so specific rather than generic.

Supporting performances from Shin Haet-bit round out this makeshift family convincingly. Even when the plot grows chaotic, the four leads keep their bond feeling authentic and lived-in throughout.

Where the Pacing Falls Apart

Young Adult Matters runs into trouble with tonal consistency. A sudden, brutal death early in the film gets introduced with real weight. It barely receives a follow-up beyond a single quiet tribute scene much later on.

A cabin sequence in the film's middle stretch has drawn particular criticism from viewers. It feels both overly violent and strangely disconnected from the story surrounding it. Editing choices here undercut tension rather than building it.

At over two hours, the film also runs longer than its narrative can comfortably support. Trimming twenty or thirty minutes might have sharpened its focus considerably, especially during the middle act where momentum stalls repeatedly.

These structural problems keep the film from reaching the emotional heights its subject matter deserves, even as individual scenes still manage to land with real impact.

Tackling Abortion in a Country That Won't Talk About It

What makes Young Adult Matters notable is its subject matter. Abortion remains heavily stigmatized in South Korea, and mainstream media rarely addresses teenage pregnancy this directly.

The film refuses to sanitize Se-jin's situation for comfort. Her search for a safe, affordable option becomes an odyssey. That search reflects barriers many Korean teenagers actually face in similar circumstances.

This boldness explains why Young Adult Matters received a mixed reception domestically. Audiences unaccustomed to seeing these issues depicted so directly reacted with a mix of discomfort and appreciation for the attempt.

Legal restrictions around abortion in South Korea have shifted somewhat since a 2019 constitutional court ruling, yet cultural stigma remains strong. The film captures that lingering stigma more effectively than any statistic could on its own. Se-jin's isolation feels like a direct consequence of silence surrounding this exact issue.

How Young Adult Matters Compares to Similar Films

Critics have frequently compared this film to "Never Rarely Sometimes Always," the American drama covering similar territory. That comparison mostly favors the earlier film's quieter, more controlled approach.

Where the American film favors restraint and intimacy, Young Adult Matters leans toward heightened melodrama and sudden violence. This choice will resonate with some viewers and alienate others entirely.

Still, comparing the two films highlights just how rare this kind of story remains internationally. Few films anywhere center teenage abortion access without moralizing or looking away from how difficult it actually is.

The Korean film also incorporates found-family dynamics more heavily than its American counterpart, spending considerable time on friendship and loyalty alongside the central medical crisis driving the plot forward. That emphasis gives Young Adult Matters its own distinct identity, separate from being merely a regional imitation of another film's approach.

Who Should Watch Young Adult Matters

This film suits viewers interested in social realism over polished, conventional melodrama. Anyone drawn to stories about institutional failure and teenage resilience will find substance here, despite the uneven execution.

Viewers seeking a typical, feel-good Korean drama should look elsewhere entirely. The content includes bullying, self-harm, and sudden violence that many casual viewers will find difficult to sit through.

Parents and educators working with at-risk teenagers might find particular value here too, even with its rough edges, since the film captures a specific kind of institutional failure that statistics alone rarely convey as effectively. International audiences unfamiliar with South Korea's cultural context may need to research some background before certain scenes fully land emotionally.

Conclusion

Young Adult Matters succeeds more as a statement than as a perfectly constructed film. Its message about institutional neglect lands with force, even when pacing and tonal control falter along the way. Lee Yoo-mi's performance alone justifies watching, and the film's willingness to confront taboo subject matter head-on makes it worth seeking out, flaws and all. Few films tackle this exact combination of teenage pregnancy, abortion access, and institutional abandonment with this much sincerity, even when the execution occasionally stumbles under its own ambition.