Reviewing the Korean Film Archive: The Day a Pig Fell Into the Well

the day a pig fell into the well
Hello readers and welcome to a new KultScene column dedicated to exposing the annals of Korean cinema. The Korean Film Archive is one of the great resources for Korean cinema fans on the web, and their Youtube channel is filled with touchstones, idiosyncrasies, and modern greats. Best of all, it’s free and subtitled. The quality of the films is not great but it’s hard to complain about that when everything else is so accessible. The aim of this column is to bring such an impressive asset to light while also learning about and critiquing Korean cinema history. Films to come include the oldest known Korean film still in print, work by kidnapped director Shin Sang Ok, and 80s erotica.

We’re starting with someone who is continuing the great trend of international acclaim for Korean cinema, Hong Sang Soo and his 1996 debut The Day a Pig Fell Into the Well. Hong is one of the many Korean filmmakers who went to study film in the US in the 1990s. It was there where the most recent wave of Korean films developed their styles, similar to K-pop in that they collide eastern and western sensibilities to make something uniquely Korean. Hong is known for his on the surface simple but deeply thoughtful films that tackle adult problems. You may also know him for his alleged affair with actress Kim Min Hee, whom he worked with on his most recent film Right Now, Wrong Then. Take note, as this piece of information is not as irrelevant as it may seem now.

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The Day a Pig Fell Into the Well is split into four different segments with characters overlapping in each. The first is about author Hyo Sup (Kim Eui Sung), a deeply pathetic man who is having two simultaneous affairs. The second is about Tong Yoo (Park Jin Sung), a businessman who struggles with his own desires to have an affair and the fear that his wife is seeing someone else. The third is about cinema ticket seller Min Jae (Jo Eun Sook) who is one of Hyo Sup’s girlfriends and how she finds out about his other affair. The last is about Bo Kyung (Lee Eung Kyung), wife of Tong Yoo and the other mistress to Hyo Sup. While not quite as complicated as it might sound, Hong does not stop to explain things in great detail.

Each character was developed by a different writer but when filming came Hong went with an improvisational style. The unique scripting hardly shows as each actor seems perfectly balanced within the film. Due to Hong’s style they have to use their bodies more than their faces as close ups are rare. Kim Eui Song gets the most to do but still excels in his quieter moments, displaying a pitiful man like no other. Lee Eung Kyung also stands out with her constant unaffected but painful performance. Her character, Bo Kyung, is the most tragic of the piece due to her inability to act. Her segment involves a lot of walking around doing nothing yet we can feel her disposition changing as the film crawls to an end.

This world where seemingly everyone is having an affair seems like a complex and unbelievable one (although reality may be just as strange given a report that says half of Korean men cheat). Hong however, fills it with tiny details and minor characters who breathe life into it at every opportunity. Shot with a masterful straightforward eye, there’s rarely more than three shots for each scene with most of the action taking place in wide shots This way the secretive characters can’t hide from the viewer. When Hong does cut within a scene it’s nearly always to go in close on small details like a hand picking up a cigarette or playing with a bug. Through these gestures we get insights into the characters that their words don’t tell us. Each one has other things on their mind than what’s happening in front of them.

Taking cues from Italian neorealism, Hong also likes to linger on shots even after the main character has left the frame. It positions us in a world that is alive. A delivery boy getting on his scooter, a couple arguing in a hotel corridor, life outside the main characters exists and maybe they should take note to realise their selfishness. Minor characters with lines are also given personalities that come across well, particularly a waitress who fights back without hesitation and a girl who coughs a lot in one scene simply because she happens to have a cough not as some warning of her impending doom.

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Through this supremely crafted world our view of the characters can be laser focused. Hong’s opinion of these tangled people is obviously bleak. Each one possess a trait that prevents them from being honest with anyone around. Hyo Sup especially is seen as a destructive force to all. Despite his two girlfriends he seems a profoundly lonely man; he asks one publisher out for drinks but is rejected. He is offended when some of his friends didn’t invite him out but wriggles his way in anyway. This scene, where he goes out with some old college friends is one of the best. Hong makes great use of the Korean dinner table as they all sit around sizzling meat drinking soju. There’s a great tension to having the meat right in the centre of the frame, Hyo Sup’s own feelings bubble along with it. He is even framed to the right so we don’t have a full view of his face.It’s no surprise then that these feelings eventually pop dramatically.

Tong Yoo and Min Jae are the most ignorant of the lot. Tong Yoo’s segment shows him trying to make some sort of deal but continually being pushed back. His lack of reaction is telling in why Bo Kyung started having an affair. His part is the weakest as it slows things down too much after Hyo Sup’s dramatic start. There is one great moment where, as he is debating whether or not to have sex with a prostitute, he starts to fidget in bed. His body convulses wildly showing a man who is clearly troubled despite his seeming indifference. Min Jae’s naievty proves to be her downfall not with more than one toxic male.

As a whole it comes together devastatingly in the final segment. Despite being a bit too long and having some misplaced motivations for smaller characters, it’s a debut that sets out a great director’s career. It’s interesting that Hong’s affair scandal only came out recently as this film feels apologetic. Hyo Sup seems like a stand in for Hong, a portrayal of self-hatred that didn’t hold back. A man dealing with his flaws out in the open is immediately powerful but also a possible turn off. The way Hong does it however, is precise and powerful. His filmography is singular in this era of Korean cinema for being small in scale but deeper than any of his peers can attest to.

Full movie here.

What do you of think of The Day a Pig Fell Into the Well? Share your thoughts in the comment section below and be sure to subscribe to the site and follow us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr to keep up with all of our posts.

The Incoherence of Bong Joon Ho

Film school was crucial to the formation of the Korean New Wave and the type of film that came out of it. It developed a new mindset for later Korean filmmakers, one which was more progressive and innovative than earlier filmmakers. So, in the midst of examining this era of cinema in Korea, I think it might be interesting to take a short look at some of the work that came out of university. To do this, I’m going to look at director Bong Joon Ho’s (The Host, Snowpiercer) graduate film from the Korean Academy of Film Arts, Incoherence.

Incoherence is actually a series of short films about three respectable men who make bad choices, and the consequences of those choices. Made in 1994 when Bong was only 25 years old, Incoherence shows many traits that Bong would go on to use in his future career. Black humour, clashing tones, and slower moments all come up in each episode and are fundamental to Bong’s cinema. Luckily the whole project is on Youtube so let’s get going with episode 1, Cockroach.

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Cockroach follows a university professor who after leaving a copy of Penthouse in plain sight on his desk, sends a young female student of his to fetch some other papers on his desk. When he realises what he has done he rushes dramatically to stop her.

There is undoubtedly a simple style being used here, it’s evident that it is an early film of Bong’s. That does not mean it is not as interesting however, as the simplicity of this film is what makes it work. The slow, meditative opening lulls us into an easy feeling and we expect a film that reflects this. This is immediately contrasted with the odd image of this respectable looking man reading a porn magazine. The tone is again heightened when he has to run to his office. His sprint is shot in slow motion to make it seem more dramatic than it really is. This showcases the type of fun Bong likes to have with audiences’ expectations when it comes to the apparent tone of a scene.

Episode two is called Up The Alleys and is about a jogger who steals milk from a porch daily, but one day gives some to a newspaper boy who gets caught by the owner of the house. The newspaper boy then chases the jogger through the maze like alleys of the small village in a comically slow fashion as he still has to deliver his papers.

Up The Alleys has a similar comic feeling to Cockroach but this time we see the consequences of the protagonists actions laid out before us in an orderly way. The paperboy first gets scolded by the old lady so he gets angry and wants to get revenge on the jogger. This causes the jogger himself to have a hard time running away from a spritely young boy. The old lady too loses out because she cancels her newspaper subscription due to a misunderstanding. Lastly the jogger is also shown to also feel the consequences because of his actions in the epilogue of the film.

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The third episode, The Night Of Pain, shows a drunken suit-wearing man and his desperate search for a toilet in the middle of the night. When he finally finds a way to relieve himself despite the resistance of a security guard, the man decides to take revenge on the guard for treating him like a commoner. He shouts at the guard “Do you know who I am?”

The humour works best in this episode and it’s down to the great acting from the lead. He stumbles, mumbles, and shouts his way through a drunken stupor with glee, not holding back in favour of subtlety. The photography is also more varied as Bong uses a shot of pipes as the opener and brings the same shot back once the symbolic nature of it is known to us. Like in the other two episodes Bong lingers on some shots longer than most short films would, allowing us more time with the characters. It helps us better understand their nights and days of pain.

Like I said before, these three episodes come together in an epilogue which cannot be embedded so you can watch it here.

In the epilogue we see a television show about the moral crisis in Korean society. The guests discussing this are the three protagonists from the previous episodes. The professor is a social psychology teacher, the jogger is editor-in-chief of the Daily Chosun and the drunk man is a public prosecutor. Each of them talk about their disdain for the current state of Korean society and its loose morals.

They each hilariously comment negatively about the very wrong doings they committed themselves. The professor says there is too much sex and violence in today’s media and declares happily that the Korean version of Penthouse was banned. The public prosecutor talks of how minor violations like jaywalking and public urination are a problem. The editor just repeats that the problem starts with education and the home life in between taking drinks of milk. The camera then cuts back to reveal the paperboy who was set up by the editor, going about his daily life. It then shows the other two characters involved in episodes 1 and 3 doing the same as the televisions play in the background. These final shots showing that these important, respectable men have really no idea what life is like for the average person. They are themselves the moral crisis of Korea.

Incoherence is a great introduction to the career of Bong Joon Ho. Not only is it an interesting work in itself, it also maps out many details that show up in his later films, in which these details are executed even better than they are here. It also provides a good look at a student film, which is where many of the big players in the new wave cut their filmmaking teeth. The vast improvement from this to his later work is apparent and gives us an insight into how a director grows.

I’m going to take a closer look into the career of Bong in the coming weeks as he certainly warrants it, and he is my favourite of the lot. But first let me know what you think of Incoherence and if there is anything you’d like to know with regards to the Korean New Wave.

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Park Chan Wook: A Career in Revenge

When Park Chan Wook was a young boy, his local priest told him he would make a good clergyman. Park thought it was because of his manner, or maybe the priest thought he didn’t like girls. Whatever the reason the priest had, this idea represents an interesting lens in which to look at the career of Park Chan Wook. Korean films have become known worldwide for being brutally violent and disturbing, and this is mostly down to the cinema of Park. Not the type of films you’d expect from a possible clergyman, but don’t think religion plays no part here; his films are infused with forbidden desires, retribution and family.

A student of philosophy at Sogang University in Seoul, Park got his start in the movie business by running a film society at his university and writing film criticism. He decided to pursue filmmaking only after seeing Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo; the influence of that director’s career is evident on Park’s. And after getting some spots on films as an assistant director, Park had to continue being a critic to pay the bills. This helped him build a library of film knowledge that would help his later career. His first two films as director were so tiny that they made little splash commercially or critically. It wasn’t until Joint Security Area (J.S.A), which I covered last week, where he was first recognized for his work.

J.S.A was the catalyst for starting the new wave and turning it into what we know it as today. It opened up new opportunities for all Korean filmmakers in terms of getting more interesting independent films made. It also opened up more contentious issues within Korean society in mainstream cinema. When we look at J.S.A in the context of Park’s filmography, it sticks out however. Its narrative is relatively straightforward by his standards and doesn’t grapple with surreality. This should not downplay its status as a great film and one that is incredibly important to Korean cinema. Its success also allowed Park to create the types of films he really wanted to.

This is when in 2002 Park started the group of films he was most known for, the Vengeance trilogy. The first installment Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance is about a deaf mute man (Shin Ha Kyun) who decides to kidnap the daughter of the boss who laid him off (Song Kang Ho) in order to get ransom money to help his sick sister. It has an interesting narrative structure which changes focus as the characters change themselves. We start with Shin Ha Kyun’s story and it gradually moves onto Song Kang Ho’s. With Mr. Vengeance and the Vengeance trilogy as a whole, Park Chan Wook shows a dark, unflinching side of humanity. Each film and each character has a different type of revenge they want to commit, and each of them is dealt with in the same way by the end of their story: they all lose their humanity.

How Park portrays this in his characters is interesting too. Our sympathy or lack thereof seems to be in constant flux with the characters. Revenge is quite an evocative emotion so we feel for those wronged and hope they achieve their goal. Yet, as the film moves forward, their actions become more tainted as they try to cover up the mess they made. Park feels for these characters despite the mistakes they make. He sees them as human and wants to see their dark side laid out. He is searching for human nature through the medium of revenge. Why revenge though?

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Historically, revenge stories become popular or current in times of unrest. The context of the Asian financial crisis in 1997 is important to the prominence of revenge in Park’s films. Revenge stories are seen as ways of getting back at those who caused the damage. When the people lose trust in the government, police etc they fantasize about revenge and in this time in Korea, the people were not happy. This raises the question of morality though and shows why our relationships with the characters are always changing. For Park morality is the most important subject. He says:

Revenge is an instrument for raising questions about morality. The idea is that the hero and the audience are involved in a moral dilemma in which every choice is bad. – Haaretz

The brutality Park is known for also shows up in Mr. Vengeance. Each tragedy that befalls a character is extremely violent and seems to get more vicious each time. There are torture scenes, stabbings, drownings and Tarantino-esque blood spraying. The problem here is whether or not this violence is a visual representation of morality or indulgent showing off. Of all Park’s films Mr. Vengeance walks the closest line between these two. Each act of violence is beautifully shot in a way that suggests great thought was put into them and that it’s more than just cool violence. This technique can also make the violence seem like it was included for its own sake. Park explains that he shoots theses scenes in a beautiful way because no one would want to watch such repulsive acts if shown in an ugly way. When shown in a beautiful way we have to deal with the irony of the situation which makes us think about our own attitudes to violence in media.

Violence plays a huge part in Park’s cinema and is what garnered him most of his attention along with his next film from 2003, Oldboy. Not since Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo was a revenge story so well crafted. Awarded the Grand Prix at the 2004 Cannes Film Festival and championed by Quentin Tarantino, Oldboy became the first Korean film to gain any success in the United States. It follows Oh Dae Soo (Choi Min Sik) on his path to revenge after being inexplicably kidnapped by an unknown party for no reason. He is released fifteen years later and immediately begins the search for his captor.

Oh’s search takes many twists along the way but remains clear and relevant throughout. This is what makes a film with a large twist, Oldboy has one of the most famous of them all, really work. If the story moves in consistent ways and yet can still shock us, even on rewatches, then you know the twist works. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone but the twist is foreshadowed very slightly in a few scenes that you won’t notice until you watch it for a second time. This attention to detail elevates Oldboy above other films with twists that seem to take place just for the sake of it.

Over the course of these changes in the story, the humanity of the main character Oh Dae Soo is laid bare before us. He is man full of rage, hell bent on finding and destroying his captors. However once out he realises that his ordeal might not be over. What follows is a series of events chronicling the physical and mental downfall of Oh. By the end of the film we see a completely broken man, devoid of humanity and willing to go to any lengths to achieve his goal.

Each part of this film plays a part in making a statement about the destruction of humanity. The extreme violence, which apart from the twist is what the film is best known for, is not exploitative or overly stylized. It shows a man punishing and being punished within a context of revenge. Oh eats a live octopus because he wants to feel its life force after being captive so long. He slowly tortures one of his captors by pulling out his teeth because he wants him to suffer like he made Oh suffer. The violence even comments on the audience’s humanity in the scene where a line is seen from Oh’s hammer to the head of one of his captors right before Oh hits him but the hit isn’t shown. Park makes the audience anticipate seeing this act of violence but pulls out right at the last moment making us realise we just wanted to see a man’s head get smashed in by a hammer.

I could write a whole essay just on Oldboy (I might just do that sometime) from the surrealistic aspects to the immaculate production design to the Freudian relationships but for now we’re going to move on. After Oldboy the Vengeance trilogy came to an end with Sympathy for Lady Vengeance in 2005. Lady Vengeance is about Lee Geum Ja who was wrongly imprisoned for kidnapping and murdering a child. The story starts as she is released and starts her path of revenge on the real killer. The film takes its time telling her back story as we learn she is a kind hearted woman who got caught up with someone bad and suffered greatly for it. Once she got out of prison though she would no longer be so kind hearted as she comes after the man who condemned her not just for herself but for all women.

Korean New Wave cinema is known for its wildly changing tones. Films can go from a dramatic to comedic scene in one edit. Sometimes even within the same scene the tone is changed seemingly out of nowhere which can be masterful or jarring depending on the filmmaking. It creates a feeling quite different to what western audiences are used to so can be hard to take seriously. When these tones are accepted however, they can show us that some scenes or ideas walk a tight line between tragedy and comedy even if generically a heartbreaking scene. Of Park’s films Lady Vengeance has the best use of this and maybe of all Korean cinema.

[Spoiler Alert: I can’t explain this without spoiling a part of the end so if you haven’t already, stop reading and go watch Sympathy for Lady Vengeance (it’s on Netflix)]

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Towards the end of the film Geum Ja has captured the real kidnapper and is holding him captive in an abandoned school. She reveals that he has kidnapped and murdered many other children since that time. So she gathers the parents of all the children he killed and offers them a part in her revenge. What follows is one of the most affecting and devastating scenes in cinema history as Geum Ja shows the parents videos that the man took of him torturing their children. We only hear the sound from the videos but we see the parents crying, screaming and fainting.

The scene that immediately follows this one is the parents having a discussion on how best they should make him suffer. While it sounds grim it is quite a comedic and surreal scenario and Park does not shy away from portraying it thusly. The differing opinions of the parents play like a regular enough argument and there are lots of funny moments that come out of it. Even when discussing what weapons they use, one of the parents asks another why they aren’t picking a weapon and he proceeds to take out an axe which he brought with him from home. This is quite a silly moment in a dark situation and is played perfectly more in favour of the comedy than the drama.

[Spoiler ends]

Lady Vengeance marks the end of Park Chan Wook’s Vengeance trilogy but many of the techniques and styles he used stayed with him. He immediately moved on to his next project with 2006’s I’m A Cyborg But That’s OK, a romantic comedy set in a mental institute. Despite the setting Cyborg is a much lighter affair than Park’s previous films as he conceived it as something his young daughter could watch at the time. It does not suffer because of this though as it is an interesting insight into mental health while being quirky and fun. It also does not however make a joke of mental health but uses comedy to take it more seriously like the subversive casting of K-Pop superstar Rain as one of the patients. With Cyborg, Park successfully moved away from the brutal dark stories that he became known for without losing any of the gravitas they contained.

For his next film though, Park returned to the darkness. Thirst, winner of the Jury Prize at the 2009 Cannes Film Festival, is about a priest (Song Kang Ho) who after subjecting himself to a disease in order to help find a cure, becomes a vampire. With his new found vampirism he has lots of new abilities and feelings. Most of all his desire to be with a woman is heightened to the point where he can’t stop himself, despite the lashings he gives himself. Thirst is about these emotions, desire and passion, and the hold they have on us as humans. The priest’s thirst for desire grows and eventually causes him to push away those closest to him.

This film, like the Vengeance trilogy has big narrative and tonal changes throughout. Thirst however, suffers from a lack of clarity where they shone brightest when clashing. Towards the end especially, the motive of the characters becomes unclear, leaving us confused and bored.

It still has some great scenes which sizzle with the energy of any Park and some of his most brutal scenes ever. A great highlight of it though is a much more simple scene. In it the main female character’s family is playing mahjong with the priest and conversing. Park’s way of shooting this type of scene is another thing that sets him apart from his contemporaries. As they talk the camera moves between them capturing reactions and bringing in new characters seamlessly. It weaves between them planting a shot which seems like a standard of shot of someone talking in the background but becomes a reaction shot or a reverse shot of someone else talking without moving. When a character has a large reaction the camera makes a large movement to accompany it. This type of cinematography breathes life into a typically dull scene and represents a greater attention to detail which is always evident in Park’s films.

This technique is also used in Park’s next film, Stoker, which was his first foray into English language cinema and working with American studios. I’m going to save discussion of Stoker for another time as it will be part of a wider piece about Park Chan Wook, Bong Joon Ho and Kim Ji Woon’s work in America. Before that we must have a look at the careers of the other two in order to better understand their work in an American context.

So Park Chan Wook, the boy who would be a priest, made some of the most brutally violent and controversial films in modern times. Not exactly what you might expect. Park’s films can then be seen as not only a look into the dark side of humanity but into the dark side of himself too. An examination of the dark side of a polite, happy Catholic upbringing and he brings along an audience with him to shock them, make them laugh and cry, and help them consider their own dark sides.

What do you of Park Chan Wook’s films? Share your thoughts in the comment section below and be sure to subscribe to the site and follow us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr to keep up with all of our posts.

Introduction to the Korean New Wave of Cinema

Since it’s the new year, those of us at KultScene will be branching out into other areas of contemporary Korean culture other than, but not forgetting about, K-pop. To start, this I am beginning a new series on modern Korean cinema. Despite being the second wave of Korean film, we will style it the New Wave of modern Korean cinema. Korea has always influenced many different kinds of motion picture; from the videos you see on, all the way to this new trend of Korean influence seen in Hollywood. Over the coming weeks, I am going to look at different areas of Korean cinema, which will include spotlights on a few prominent directors, exploring the themes of Korean cinema, and Korean cinema’s experiences in Hollywood. We will start off nice and slow, with a short introduction as to what I would term the Korean New Wave. So, I will outline how the wave started and its main players.

This new wave is generally considered to have started in 1997 and ended in 2005 when the films became more mainstream but the quality and influence has remained to this day.

What happened in 1997 to spark such a wave of creativity? Well, lots of things. Of course, it wasn’t just 1997, but South Korean film had been experiencing a lot of changes in the 80s as well, it just wasn’t as momentous. For instance, a revision was made in the Motion Pictures Act in 1987, which allowed foreign film companies to work in Korea. The benefits of these new possible deals were not felt straight away due to Korea’s conservative nature. Ever since the dictatorship of Park Chung Hee introduced strict censorship policies, and the Korean film industry had to abide by them. So, an anti-American movement essentially prevented Korean cinema from expanding its horizons to include foreign films.

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As Korea transition from dictatorships to true democracy, Korean filmmakers began to fight back. 1990 to 1996 is generally considered the first new wave of Korean cinema. The directors of this age made it possible for the directors we are going to look at, to make what they wanted without restriction. Park Kwang-su, Jang Sun-woo, Chung Ji-young, Lee Myung-se, and many others looked at historical events and ideas that were taboo under the dictatorship and reinterpreted these issues in a modern context. This allowed Korean audiences the chance to rethink what they knew about their country.

To the starry island

As the film industry grew in the 1990’s, so did democracy. In Korea this meant that more liberal values were introduced into Korean society. The good times did not last too long, as the first wave came to an end at the same time as the Asian financial crisis in 1997. These changes were a big influence on the next wave, which properly began in 1999.

The Korean government and chaebols (conglomerates) were greatly affected by the Asian financial crisis and the Korean people suffered for it too. In these seemingly constant difficult times for Korea, a stirring of the creative people in the country was inevitable. Times of confusion and strive tend to create melting pots of disillusioned young people who are waiting to strike back in interesting and biting ways. Through film, the people of Korea created something truly original and specific.

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With the increased liberalization of Korea, trips overseas for students were also now more common. Students could now move more freely to study abroad, and the average person had had more opportunities to travel. Young students were particularly drawn to America with its diverse culture. Filmmakers went to study in America and learned new ways of not only approaching cinema but life as well. For an example Lee Soo Man travelled to America and when he came back he created SM Entertainment. These budding filmmakers saw violence and sex in America and returned to strict family values in Korea. This meeting of cultures between the East and the West would go on to become a big part of the new wave’s cinema. Wild tonal shifts are now known as a distinct feature of Korean cinema because of it. It can also explain the moral pushing work of directors like Kim Ki Duk.


Our wave begins, strangely enough, with a blockbuster from 1999 called Shiri written and directed by Kang Je Gyu. Shiri was the first of its kind in Korea and, despite the turbulent financial times, it got a huge budget. It was no mere blockbuster though, but was the first major release to address the North/South divide of Korea in a way outside of traditional propaganda. It attempted to show North Koreans in a more realistic way rather than just negative which was very progressive at the time. Not only did it challenge contemporary Korean issues, the blockbuster effects led to Shiri becoming the most lucrative film in Korean history, beating even Titanic. This economic and critical success paved the way for more daring and diverse Korean cinema, and more blockbuster-style films.

Although his film was a major part of the wave, another Kang Je Gyu went on to make only two more films between then and now and both were commercially but not culturally successful. Those who benefited from his success however, benefitted greatly. Hot off the heels of Kang’s film about North Korea, Park Chan Wook released his third feature Joint Security Area (J.S.A) about the same subject in 2000. His take was much less conventional and focused more on the inherent strangeness of soldiers standing on a physical line that borders two countries every minute of every day. It was a strong debut, and marked Park as a director to watch. And he certainly was, as he became one of the leading voices of the Korean new wave of cinema. His film Oldboy was the first Korean film to really crossover to the West and gain acclaim, even winning an award at the Cannes Film Festival. The film two films also introduced actors Lee Byung Hun and Song Kang Ho as leading men.


Alongside Park, two directors in particular led the wave, Kim Ji Woon and Bong Joon Ho. They both released films before Park, Kim in 1998 and Bong in earlier 2000, but didn’t find their hit until after the critical landscape changed due to J.S.A. Between the three of them, they released a staggering amount of incredible films and their influence goes further than just Korea. They have all also recently released their first English language films based in America. Our look at the new wave will feature primarily, but won’t be confined to, these three directors and will continue in the coming weeks with a more in depth look at each of their careers.

Do you like the Korean New Wave? Is there anything you would like to see covered in this series? Share your thoughts in the comment section below and be sure to subscribe to the site and follow us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Tumblr to keep up with all of our posts.