An engrossing political thriller that manages a fine balance between human drama and suspense. Reflecting our world where it often seems as though corruption and misinformation are the order of the day, Shinbun Kisha lays out a David and Goliath tale of ordinary citizens standing against government corruption. While the inciting incident might seem small, that’s exactly what the drama tries to highlight; if society remains apathetic to the “small” corruptions, what will the powers that be try to get away with next? It also hits back against the pervasive thought that one person couldn’t possibly make a difference when it comes to political change. After all, we never know what our actions might inspire in others.

Some may find early episodes slow, although I felt they did a good job establishing the broad strokes of the story and characters. In later episodes, however, there were some places where the story struggled to keep pace or stumbled over minutiae; the overall quality of the episodes was undiminished, but I sometimes wondered if a scene wouldn’t have been better placed elsewhere or even cut entirely. This was often the case with scenes that included Mayu, who could feel superfluous despite her early involvement in the development of another character.

That said, I found it difficult not to binge Shinbun Kisha. Since it often seems to mirror real life, the plot somehow appeals to the audience’s sense of justice. The characters are relatable for the same reason and win sympathy easily. Like any good story, Shinbun Kisha made me want to know more—but even beyond that, I needed to know if justice would actually be served. It was difficult not to get invested.

The camera is unobtrusive, yet still impactful. For example, during the press conferences where Yonekura Ryoko’s Matsuda is the only one brave enough to drill the administration for answers, she’s literally seated alone with a block of empty chairs surrounding her. Sickly greens and yellows are employed in sequences when corrupt dealings are underway, and chilly blues overlay rooms in which a character has been driven into a corner or frozen out.

Yonekura Ryoko and Go Ayano, perhaps unsurprisingly, are clear standouts in terms of performance. However, Yokohama Ryusei turns in a solid performance as an indifferent youth who slowly begins to understand the power that young people have in shaping the future of a country.

Recommended overall, especially if you like this genre. I'd love to see more like this from Netflix.