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The past century has seen Korean cinema evolve from a localised art form into a global phenomenon. This new essay and linked free-to-view content traces its historical development, key figures, and growing influence on the international film landscape.
Korean cinema was born in the early 20th century, under Japanese colonial rule. The occupying forces exercised significant control over the film industry, and as Kate Taylor-Jones details in this chapter of Divine Work, Japanese Colonial Cinema and its Legacy, ‘Censorship and colonialism went hand in hand… government newsreels and print media in this period were focused on the cultural proximity of Japan and Korea and the positive benefits that Japan was bringing to Korea.’ However, despite these restrictions, pioneering works like Arirang (1926) by Na Woon-gyu, symbolised resistance against Japanese colonial rule. As Lee Hyangjin writes in her chapter South Korea: Film on the Global Stage, ‘Arirang, the biggest box-office hit made during the colonial period, set a model for a series of nationalistic resistance films made in later years, and stimulated the first socialist film movement in Korea.’
Following liberation from Japanese rule in 1945, the Korean War (1950–1953) profoundly affected Korea’s cinematic landscape, with American film distributors taking control of the cultural discourse in South Korea. As a result, Korean filmmakers faced continued censorship pressures and had to choose between being anti-communist or remaining apolitical. Kim Soyoung explores this in this chapter of Korean Cinema in Global Contexts, noting that ‘South Korean film historiography was deeply affected by the Cold War mentality and US dominance. Hence, South Korean film scholars emphasize American influence and the entrepreneurial practices embedded in early cinema spectatorship, such as the promotion of trolley cars and cigarettes.’
The 1960s marked the golden age of Korean cinema, characterised by a boom in production and audience growth. Kim Ki-young’s melodrama Hanyo (The Housemaid) (1960), was a key work from this period. An allegory for socio-political upheaval, the film follows a middle-class family whose life unravels when they hire a housemaid. As Kim Soyoung explores in this chapter of Korean Cinema in Global Contexts, the film exemplifies how ‘women from poor rural areas suffered doubly in the postcolonial “recovery,” exploited by the forces of advanced capitalism as well as the patriarchal authority of village life.’
The late 1980s witnessed an easing of censorship and political repression, ushering in a new era known as the Korean New Wave. As Lee Hyangjin writes in her chapter South Korea: Film on the Global Stage, ‘Society finally allowed freedom to the filmmakers who were craving the realization of their creative imaginations…’Directors like Park Kwang-su and Jang Sun-woo emerged, and their ability to challenge convention and address social issues invigorated young audiences in particular.
As Kim Soyoung writes in her chapter From Cine-mania to Blockbusters and Trans-cinema, ‘some members of youth sub-cultures and civil activists initiated film festivals as public platforms from where to address their rights and concerns. The desire to be represented or recognised in public prevails in the various modes of festivals.’
This desire for representation was evident in the unprecedented success of Im Kwon-taek’s 1993 arthouse film, Seopyeonje, which, despite its focus on the traditional art form of pansori (musical storytelling that combines singing, acting, spoken word, and audience participation) was the first Korean film to attract over one million viewers in Seoul alone. As Rhee Jooyeon explores in her chapter Collective Nostalgia and Anxiety in Korean Film Music, ‘Seopyeonje provided a moment of discovery where once erased and forgotten stories of people could return to the present, recalling the times during which ordinary people lived through the tide of colonial history, the Korean War, political oppression, and the intense capitalist development.’
Interestingly, the film to break Seopyeonje's records was Kang Je-gyu’s 1999 action blockbuster, Shiri. Regarding the film’s impact, Darrel William Davis and Emilie Yueh-yu Yeh write in this chapter of East Asian Screen Industries, 'Shiri was a Korean box-office champion, with over 2.5 million admissions in Seoul alone. While Seopyeonje is culturally specific, Shiri addresses any fan of Hollywood thrillers like Die Hard (1988), True Lies (1994), Face/Off (1997) and James Bond.’ The film follows a South Korean secret agent as he tracks down a highly skilled North Korean assassin plotting a devastating bioterrorist attack on Seoul. The commercial success of the film evidences, as pointed out by Kim Soyoung, that ‘the presence of North Korea as immediate ‘other’ has also always provided an alibi and, ironically, contributed to securing the discursive stability of South Korean national identity.’
By the 2000s, Korean films were gaining international recognition and establishing a global audience. As We Jung-Yi writes in her chapter Between Longing and Belonging: Diasporic Return in Contemporary South Korean Cinema, ‘Breaking from the social realism of the Korean New Wave in the 1980s, South Korean cinema in the 1990s and onward has become the central site in which new identities and communities are being imagined.’
The decade was marked by Korean auteurs like Bong Joon-ho and Park Chan-wook, who showcased unique storytelling and stylistic approaches. As Jeong Seung-hoon writes in his chapter A generational spectrum of global Korean auteurs, ‘Our auteurs stage a variety of pointed ethical dilemmas in disguised political settings, offering different entry points into the nation’s moral, biopolitical, psychoanalytic matrix of power and justice, desire and abjection.’
Park Chan-wook’s Oldboy (2003), won the Grand Prix at the Cannes Film Festival in 2004. However, it resists straightforward categorisation; blending elements of action, thriller, and psychological horror in a way that has had a lasting impact on Korean cinema. As Ken Provencher and Mike Dillon consider in their introduction to Exploiting East Asian Cinemas, ‘On the one hand, the film is tied to a specific national cinema… but on the other, it is teeming with boundary-crossing qualities that beckon analysis…’
Similarly, in Memories of a Murder (2003), Bong Joon-Ho manipulates the generic conventions of crime, drama, and dark humor, to provide a haunting social commentary on justice, morality, and human frailty. As Kim Kyu-Hyun writes in his chapter Don’t Bother to Dispatch the FBI, the film raised the ‘kinds of questions seldom asked in “serious dramas” recreating or reflecting on the historical traumas of 1980s Korea...’ This generic fluidity remains characteristic of his subsequent works, as Barry Keith Grant outlines in 100 Science Fiction Films, ‘Ostensibly a monster movie, The Host (2006) is at once serious political commentary and genial comedy.’ Joon-ho’s most recent film Parasite (2019) won the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival and became the first non-English-language film to win the Academy Award for Best Picture.
From its early beginnings during the colonial era to its contemporary status as a global cinematic powerhouse, Korean cinema has continually reinvented itself while remaining deeply connected to its cultural roots. The innovative storytelling techniques, genre-blending, and cultural authenticity present in Korean films have inspired filmmakers worldwide, leading to a greater appreciation for East Asian cinema as a whole.
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