REVIEW | FINAL DRAFT > PHYSICAL 100

I love Netflix's Final Draft. To me, it’s Physical 100 — but with a cast you can’t help but root for. Maybe it’s because there aren’t 100 competitors this time, making everyone more relatable. The storylines are familiar — redemption arcs, rivalries, quiet determination — but the show gives you more chances to actually know the fighters. And the games? Not overly complicated, just straightforward enough to enjoy.

The worst challenge for me? Hands down, the sit-ups. And not just because I’m fat and it’s already a chore to manage one. It wasn’t enough to outlast your opponents — you also had to bang your forehead on a buzzer while crunching your abs. That alone sounds painful, but then they added a giant slide into the mix. Ouch.

And if that wasn’t exhausting enough, there was the mountain hike where one unlucky contestant would be eliminated. Missing out on the dreaded waiting area might sound like a blessing, but the climb itself was just as punishing.

Even without teary, drawn-out emotional conversations, you get each competitor’s essence from their backstories alone.

• Yoshio Itoi is the carefree giant.

• Ryudai Onikura is an amateur boxer turned struggling actor with a knack for strategy and immense respect for Hozumi Hasegawa — a three-weight division champion who once shared the ring with Filipinos Jess Maca and Alvin Felicilda, as well as former Nonito Donaire and Z Gorres opponent Fernando Montiel.

• Takashi Kurihara is cool, calm, and collected but with a never-say-die spirit.

• Yuya Shozui has a beautiful wife… and can knock out 579 consecutive sit-ups.

• Kozui is the sarcastic, blunt, carefree guy of the group.

• Kenta Tsukamoto is basically the giant baby of the show.

• And Katsuma Yonemura — a former judo star turned barber — is my personal favorite.

That’s the hook: retired athletes chasing one final shot at glory. Some walked away because their sport wasn’t popular enough to sustain a career. Others left the game without ever tasting real success. Final Draft gives them one last chance to cash in on their god-given talents — and with a ¥30 million prize (about USD 200,000), it’s a shot that could secure their family’s future.

The show isn’t without flaws. The missions often feel skewed against the women, especially in raw power-based challenges like monkey bars or marathon sit-ups. It’s not about discrimination — it’s just reality: shorter or lighter competitors are naturally at a disadvantage in some formats. The road to the finals also feels uneven at times, with match difficulty and opponent strength varying wildly in the tag and boxing rounds.

Still, the drama more than makes up for it. The draft segment, for example — downright cruel, yet completely logical for survival. Same with the money twist. These fighters came to defeat all comers, but suddenly the prize became not just honor… but cash.

Personally, I can’t imagine choosing money over the title — especially in Japan, where quitting can carry a heavy cultural stigma. That’s why the finale was so striking: the one who took the money didn’t just skip the final match — he also let down his mentor, the man he swore he’d dedicate his win to. The mentor himself was absent from the finale, likely because he no longer cared about the outcome… or was simply furious at his “guy” for putting cash over glory.

The real kicker? This player might have actually won the title. Even though he ranked dead last in points heading into the semifinals, the remaining challenges were mostly power-based. With his size, he could have turned the final match into a real contest instead of the one-sided affair it became.

Gone are the massive, elaborate sets and the plaster-of-Paris body casts from Physical 100. But Final Draft has something else — a beating heart. And that’s why I say: bring on Season 2.

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