The Korean Film Industry

Political machinations, war, separation, and foreign censorship are just some of the startling depravations the Korean film industry has struggled with throughout its century long existence. But, despite these struggles, despite balancing on the brink of complete decimation on multiple occasions, Korean film has repeatedly risen from the ashes again and again. Just in the last decade the South Korean film industry has once again risen from near obscurity to become a stable contributor to the economy as well as quickly becoming a contender on an international basis (North Korea is at present still struggling with the harsh censorship of its current totalitarian government model to succeed in this area, although it still maintains an impressive industry on a domestic level). With films like The Host (2006) and Join Security Area (2003), as well as more recent others, South Korean filmmakers are quickly being recognized for their exploits, both critically and financially, several films being well received at the Academy Awards as well as Cannes, and many others being bought by Hollywood producers to be remade in America.
The Korean film industry, as mentioned above, possesses a harsh history. While Korea had been introduced to film as early as 1897, the first true theater and by extrapolation the roots of the industry itself, was not introduced until 1907. Films shown at that point were all European and American imports; the most well received filmmakers being D. W. Griffith and Fritz Lang. Twelve years later a theater owner by the name of Park Sung-Pil set into motion the country’s film industry by financing several different documentaries as well as a series of “films” called kino dramas, which were basically just theatrical productions with film serving as the stage backdrop. Soon after however, Korea gave birth to its first feature film.
The year in which this film was released is still contested; some claiming Chunhyang-Jeon (1922) to be the first, but others claiming it was Ulha ui Mengse (1923). Regardless of the title, the film inspired a fledgling film industry, albeit one primarily controlled by the Japanese. In 1926 Na Woon-Gyu created the film Arirang, a masterpiece of classic Korean Cinema. With the film’s release, the Golden Era of Silent Films began, and both the quality and quantity of films released in Korea dramatically increased in the years that followed. However, this spark was soon extinguished due to a sudden increase in censorship by the occupying Japanese. Many of Korea’s filmmakers fled to Shanghai in pursuit of artistic freedom. This all but killed the fledgling industry and over the next five years only about twelve films were released.
Luckily, in 1935 Lee Myeong-Woo released Korea’s first film with sound. This new novelty briefly brought life back into the industry and the number of films produced began to increase again. Unfortunately, as the Second World War broke loose, the local Japanese government increased its strict censorship of the industry. European and American films were slowly weeded out and by 1938 the entire Korean film industry was completely controlled by the Japanese. By 1942 Korean films themselves were banned, and the industry became a simple extension of Japan’s propaganda movement.
By 1945 the war had ended and Korea gained its independence. With this independence, the Korean film industry was reborn. Liberty and freedom became major thematic elements within Korean film, and the industry once again began to prosper. However, as in the past, this new found success was short lived, and with the outbreak of civil war in 1950, the Korean film industry once again lapsed into a near comatose state, and the number of films produced on a yearly basis sunk to new depths.
At the conclusion of the war, the industry was split, Korea sliced into two separate nations. And while the North Korean film industry lapsed into a cyclic and continuously faltering domestic industry, South Korea continued the Korean film industry’s legacy of brilliant rebirth out of the midst of destruction, ushering in the Golden Age of Korean film.
Recognizing the power inherent to film, Syngman Rhee, the first president of South Korea, exempted the industry from taxation, hoping to revitalize production of the medium. He succeeded. By 1959 over 100 films were being produced in South Korea every year. During this era legendary films such as Lee Kyu-Hwan’s Chunhyan-Jon (1955), Kim Ki-Young’s Yang san Province (1955), and Lee Byeong-Il’s Sijib ganeun nal (The Wedding Day, 1956), were produced by a studio system beginning to mirror many other prominent countries leading in the film industry. This boon dramatically increased the quality of films as well as the quantity, The Wedding Day among others receiving international recognition.
Kim Ki-Young’s The Housemaid (1960) and Yu Hyun-Mok’s Aimless Bullet (1960), both historic landmarks in the film history of South Korea, marked an end to this era, the government once again increasing its control of the industry to suffocating levels. Rhee’s successor, Park Chung Hee, not understanding the nature of the medium passed the Motion Picture law of 1963, placing increasingly strict measures upon the industry. In just one year the number of production companies in South Korea fell from 71 to 16. Luckily, there was enough of a loyal audience from the past five years that filmmakers were able to overcome these policies and produce many more quality films over the next decade or so, even establishing the Grand Bell Awards, a sort of South Korean equivalent to the Academy Awards found in the United States. Eventually however, the stranglehold of the government took its toll.
In 1973 Hee began forcing filmmakers to include government propaganda within their films. According to the International Film Guide published at the time, “No country has a stricter code of film censorship than South Korea – with the possible exception of the North Koreans and some other Communist countries.” Government control had reached an all time high, and the South Korean film industry had reached an all time low. A few of the more talented film makers such as Im Kwon-Taek and Kim Ki-Young were able to surpass such obstacles, but for the most part film became a comatose art within the South Korean borders. It was not until the death of Hee in 1979 that the industry began its familiar ascension back towards prosperity.
In 1981 Im Kwon-Taek’s film Mandala won the Grand Prix at the Hawaii Film Festival, reintroducing South Korean film to the international level and setting the stage for South Korean filmmakers in the future. President Roh Tae Woo drove South Korea towards an exceedingly democratic state, freeing the South Korean industry to once again prosper. For the next fifteen years or so the film industry gradually built itself back up to its former success. By 1997 it had far exceeded even that.
In the early millennium South Korea became one of the few countries in the world that possessed a film industry domestically superior to that of Hollywood. Joint Security Area (2000) was a huge success, surpassing even such blockbusters as Titanic, The Matrix, and Star Wars with nearly six million domestic viewers. In 2001, My Sassy Girl was able to displace both The Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter in the box office with nearly five million admissions. By 2004 this phenomena became commonplace, films like Silmido and Taegukgi garnering over eleven million viewers each. In 2006 Bong Joon-Ho broke all previous records with his film The Host, maxing out at a stunning thirteen million admissions, nearly a third of South Korea’s population.
Naturally, Hollywood has been quick to capitalize (leech) on South Korea’s success. Every major American studio is rushing to buy up the rights to any moderately successful South Korean film, a number quickly climbing as the years go on. Shiri, Joint Security Area, My Wife is a Gangster, Il Mare, Oldboy, My Sassy Girl, The Host, A Tale of Two Sisters, are just some of the films bought by Hollywood to be remade in America. But even without being remade, South Korean film still possesses a broad international appeal. In 1997 the South Korea film industry made $492,000 in exports. By 2004 it was making $63,000,000 and continuing to grow on an exponential scale.
Of these successes, Joint Security Area and The Host are two of the more widely known within the United States. Both were monumental exploits within South Korea, and both have been bought by Hollywood with remakes in mind. With a more in depth analysis of these films, one can begin to interpret the underpinnings of their individual appeal, as well as the foundation behind the South Korean film industry’s astounding success.
The first, Joint Security Area, or more commonly, JSA, is a film describing the political, cultural, and emotional situations generated by having an entire country split in two. The titular area is the central setting of the film, documenting the interactions between four military officers from either side of the border and the results of such a relationship. The film begins in media res, one of the South Korean officers running wounded from the North Korean side and from the murdered North Korean officers discovered there. An investigation is begun by Major Sophie E. Jang on behalf of the Neutral Nations Supervisory Commission in order to prevent the split nations from returning to war.
Beginning her investigation with two separate accounts from either side, Major Jang soon discovers neither can be correct based on her own discoveries. Reaching this conclusion, the film devolves into a series of flashbacks, slowly revealing the truth to its audience. The events leading up to the victims’ death is neither a kidnapping nor a murderous rampage. As the flashbacks reveal the pair of North Korean guards and South Korean guards had actually formed a fragile friendship, discovering that the prejudice fostered by both their mother countries actually holds no real basis.
The film goes on to detail the building of this friendship, at the same time detailing the ongoing investigation involving the two surviving officers, one from South Korea the other from the North. Major Jong eventually discovers the truth behind the deaths, a complex event ending in simple tragedy. As the storylines flow together into the present, the film comes to a close, everything coming together in one last representation of the film’s themes: honor, sacrifice, and unnecessary grief.
The film is extremely cool and crisp in regards to filming style. The characters’ emotions are very restrained, the director using this restraint to further intensify the brief moments when character emotion is seen. On top of this the colors throughout the film are muted, used to exemplify the outward presence of the military as well as the sterilized feelings either country must possess towards the situation. Despite this measure of temperance within the mise en scene, many of the cuts and shots within the film possess elements of certain Hollywood styles, which seem out of place when in conjunction with the cool crisp design of the film, but appeal to an American audience. Still, Chan Wook easily redeems himself, for there are many significantly unique shots within the film that truly add feeling to the various scenes. Chan Wook certainly is not a hack by any means.
Combining the two aspects of story and style, it is easy to see why the film has garnered so much success, both domestically and within the United States. Being a culture split in two, the Korean people would naturally feel an affinity to a film where that split is the subject of the story. In Joint Security Area, the audience, even those who might not be ones thinking of such things on a constant basis, are given a unilateral perspective to the damages such a cultural chasm creates. Even those far removed from the border, those who remove themselves mentally from the entire situation, are, through the film’s multiple messages, brought to a level of catharsis akin to those who have experienced the current cultural repercussions first hand.
The film attempts to show an equality of the people on either side of the border, to show the exaggerations of either side regarding the degeneracy of the other, and to prove the slim presence of hope for the future relations between the two countries. However, despite these messages of reconciliation, Chan Wook does not forget his audience, and the presentation of the South Korean system of government as superior is not neglected. No matter the messages the film displays in the equality of culture and personage, the many benefits of the South Korean democracy is an ever present undercurrent within the film. In addition to the baser elements of the story, the themes its presents and the de facto light it shines on the Korean people provide additional appeal. Within the story individual honor takes priority over personal needs and desires, sacrifice of self a prime component. These ideals are culturally close to the heart of the Korean people as a whole and as such the film resonates with them on an even deeper level.
As mentioned, much of the way the film was made grants appeal to a wider international audience, many of the stylistic elements mirroring Hollywood’s typical fare. Many of the cuts within the film (wipes, page turns, ect.) are normally associated with many films of the fantasy genre produced within Hollywood. Such cuts would not normally warrant inclusion in a film more serious in nature, but within JSA, it creates a kindrence of sorts with the international audience. The familiarity fostered with the recognition of elements seen more exclusively within the mainstream film pool fosters a better relationship with the film itself.
The “gimmick” shots (shots filmed in a way that do not really add anything to the story or individual scenes but at times produce an “ooh aah” response) used within the film can also be tagged with fostering relative familiarity with the mainstream. The gimmick is something nearly exclusively Hollywood, the need for empty flash bang essentially summing up their perspective of the industry. However, it does appeal to the lowest common denominator, and that dominator is responsible for the bulk of sales. Thankfully Chan Wook does not rely wholly on these gimmicks as substitute for actual film, and in later productions, he removes them entirely.
The Host, directed by up and coming filmmaker Bong Joon-Ho, surpasses the success of JSA on a maelstrom level. The highest grossing South Korean film of all time, The Host was not only a financial success, but garnered an equally successful critical reception across the globe. Again the film possesses a unique elemental combination of story and style that produces such a broad appeal. Albeit in this case, said appeal reached an all new high for the country.
The film begins with the origin of the titular creature, a combination of laziness and carelessness, resulting in a slight toxic waste situation. The film then begins the focus on the main protagonists, a small family consisting of three different generations: a man, his son, and his granddaughter. The oldest owns a small snack shop next to the river, which he runs with the rest of the family’s help. As the creature makes its first appearance, their lives are thrown into disarray. In the creature’s attack it is believed that the granddaughter character has been eaten, transitioning to a funeral scene where the rest of the family is introduced, namely, the other two children of the old man.
Rushed to a hospital due to risk of “infection” due to contact with the creature, the girl calls her father revealing her present state of affairs. The father reveals this to the rest of the family who, unbelieving at first are soon persuaded to join in on a rescue mission at the bequest of their father. This begins the search process that takes up the bulk of the film involving organized crime, the military, foreign media, biological control companies, and fortune seekers. The old man is eventually knocked off in a three way battle between family, military, and creature. A deeper character study of each of his children takes place interjected every now and then with a visual update on the happenings of the granddaughter. The battle separates the man’s three children as well, giving greater weight to each of their own personal journeys. As the film closes all four protagonists are brought back together for one final duel with the creature that has caused them such pain, ultimately ending in no small amount of personal growth for each of the characters and the standard near tragic event of reconciliation.
With this example there is a greater embracing of international idioms evident in the filming as well the story. The film still relies on the themes most respondent to its native nation (although different ones than those found in JSA), where, like the last, is inherent to the story. But, the efforts of the director evident in The Host cater to the tastes of its international audience without alienating the more qualitative tastes of its domestic populace. Instead of drawing inspiration from the baser aspects of American film, Joon-Ho borrows elements of a higher nature, merging them with those of his own heritage, and creating something wholly unique, more successfully balancing the cinematic palates of both worlds.
The themes of The Host hold a slightly more universal appeal, but the treatment specifically given to the family theme within the story is more indicative to the Korean culture. The generational issues found in the film have less to deal with the rebellion and control struggle in most American films, instead focusing on aspects of security and leadership, and the difficulties inherent to both in a time of crisis. As in the last example, the film also puts South Korea in a good light. This is especially seen in the beginning of the film, where it is the lazy, careless, and belligerent American scientist forcing the unwilling South Korean assistance to dispose of the toxic waste materials in an unsafe manner. This, along with the inclusion of additional sub text of the same vein, has actually raised inquiries regarding a hidden anti-American message within the film, inquiries Joon-Ho has determinedly discredited. The film does not single America out, and there are many more instances of political satire directed at the South Korean government than there are regarding various negative aspects of American culture. It is this undercurrent of satire in fact, which gives the film some of its greatest appeal, South Korean audiences showing always showing a good response to such inclusions.
Looking at the film’s international appeal, again the style of presentation is the primary contributor. As mentioned above, South Korean filmmakers seem to be mirroring many mainstream American film techniques, which, while grabbing the attention of domestic audiences, is also providing a firmer foothold in the international industry. While much of the film still possesses a more muted and gritty feel to it, much brighter colors are used throughout the film. A broader range of emotions are shown by the actors, even to an exaggerated level at times. The film possesses a pacing more in line with standard American films, and, although in no way disturbing the wholly Korean feel of the film, there is still quite a bit of American culture present throughout.
Ultimately, it is this combination of film culture that has so empowered the South Korean film industry’s domestic market, while at the same time seducing easily the most powerful player in the international market. With its focus on quality and with the present governmental support South Korean film continues to soar. Despite its longsuffering history and the continuous cycle of destruction and rebirth, it is evident that South Korea means to break that cycle. This time, they are here to stay. And, with its current nosedive in quality work and possible financial pitfalls, Hollywood better watch its back. This little dragon is climbing fast.