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| Courtesy of Hill Country Camera |
By David A. Tizzard
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Korean cinema is able to quickly refute such claims, however. I recently established a course titled Korean Cinema and Modernization and, over the past two weeks, have watched and discussed a number of the country's most popular films with a group of 40 international students. Observing their reactions and listening to their discussions on the themes and morality presented by some the nation's most beloved directors and actors has been incredibly eye-opening.
Hollywood's heroes
In contemporary Hollywood cinema, the prevalence of superhero narratives is undeniable. We're bombarded with a never-ending stream of perfect looking men and women with white teeth decked out in leather. Whether it's the likes of iconic superheroes like Batman, Spiderman, the seemingly infinite cast of the Avengers universe, or even in summer blockbusters featuring actors such as Tom Cruise and Jason Statham embodying heroic roles in action films, the superhero theme permeates the industry. Each one arrives promising us a darker take on the same story we've been given for the past half century or more. Yet, despite those claims, within these narratives, the distinction between the forces of good and evil is vividly apparent. The films leave no ambiguity for the audience. Moreover, the audience and cultural expectations demand that the virtuous protagonist ultimately triumphs, even in the face of immense challenges and adversities.
It's no surprise that for many fans, the most popular installments of the biggest western movie series are often the ones that end on a slightly darker note with the heroes either defeated, dead, or facing seemingly insurmountable odds: "The Empire Strikes Back," "Infinity War," "The Two Towers," "The Deathly Hallows" ― Part 1, and so on. Of course, these are all quickly turned around and the story eventually ends with heroes kissing the girl and the sun shining brightly on everyone involved. Just as monotheism gives us a very clear distinction and personification of good and evil, so the movies play out this secular modern Christian tale with the third act always providing the heroic redemption.
Korean ambiguity
Korean history, culture, and morality is rather different however. There is no ultimate personification of evil in Korean tradition. There are goblins, misfortune, tigers, ghosts, and all things that go bump in the night. However, they are part of a larger story and there is no singular manifestation of evil equivalent to Satan or the Devil. Morality is different. There's lots of gray. Lots of overlap. And lots of ambiguity. Take the most successful Korean movie of recent years, "Parasite," and ask yourself who the good guys and bad guys were and if the movie had a happy ending. It's not immediately clear who you should be rooting for or what the message is. And this is not a unique movie: Korean cinema is replete with such examples.
From "The Housemaid" (1960), "J.S.A." (2000) "Memories of Murder" (2003), "The Host" (2006) and many others, Korean movies ask you to follow a character who is deeply flawed. Moreover, you will likely experience little in the way of the glorious resolution. Instead, the ending will feature death, tragedy, and ambiguity. And this is not cherry picking some indie films that are by nature dark and edgy. These are some of the country's biggest and most important pieces of cinema.
'The Host'
In Bong Joon-ho's 2006 monster movie "The Host," the protagonist Park Kang-doo, played excellently by Song Kang-ho, is a deadbeat. He sleeps when he shouldn't, he steals, he is financially insecure, and his ridiculously dyed-blonde hair gives the impression of someone who doesn't take life too seriously. He's not even particularly handsome and carries the timber around his waist most men of a certain age recognize. When his young daughter arrives home from school, rather than offer her a proper meal, he gives her beer. They drink together and stare wistfully at a television. This is neither a role-model nor a hero. It is nevertheless who we are asked to follow. This is the Korean "hero" of "The Host."
As the monster emerges from the Han River and begins attacking people, Kang-doo tries to escape with his daughter but he fails. He loses hold of her and she's whisked away by the monster. His lack of ability is summed up in his completely un-athletic jump into the Han River and failed attempts at swimming. Now, he and his siblings have a mission: to rescue the daughter that he lost through his own ineptitude.
His sister is an archer but fails to achieve great success because she's unable to release the arrow whenever it really matters. His brother is an unemployed man who constantly reminisces of the past and the pro-democracy protests he took part in. His father, a seemingly kind, but often absent and dim-witted man, joins them in their attempts to find the missing girl. However, Kang-doo eventually gets his father killed by incorrectly counting how many bullets he has in a gun. He then fails to persuade any authority figures that his daughter is really still alive. His stupidity and mistakes are vividly real and they carry with them the gravest of consequences for people around him. And this, remember, is our hero.
The daughter
The young girl they are trying to rescue is called Hyun-soo. Despite the terror she faces, she remains alive: Hiding in the monster's lair and surviving on scraps. She befriends a young orphan boy and they keep each other company, hoping for respite from the terror. Throughout this, she gets dirtier and dirtier, covered in the filth and grime of the sewers. Despite courageously plotting an escape, the monster foils her plan and keeps her prisoner. Nevertheless, as a viewer, we are never really in any doubt that the young girl will come to much harm. She is, after all, innocent. She has made it through the two hours of the movie, and all the main characters are looking for her. Despite the hardships, of course good will prevail.
Except that it doesn't. Hyun-soo dies. The family's efforts are in vain. The botched attempts and in-fighting result in the death of a young girl who was arguably braver and more capable than any of her siblings put together. It was interesting to see the realization creeping in on the faces of international students used to seeing happy endings. They kept expecting it to rewind or be presented with some deus ex machina that would explain it all away. Yet it never came.
The end
The movie ends with Kang-doo now looking after the little orphan boy. As a father he has grown because he now provides proper food instead of beer. He also remains alert at the window, ever vigilant should the monster ever come back. He has grown and we get some redemption for him. But at the same time we've seen his ineptitude result in the death of both his father and his daughter.
This is a Korean movie. A summer blockbuster. Domestic fans will leave the cinema talking happily, thinking nothing strange about any of the above. Those used to superheroes, however, will be left puzzled. And again, despite thinking this a mere aberration in the Korean cinema cannon, you only have to watch more movies to notice this is the trend rather than the exception. Death, loss, and flawed heroes are the norm. Perhaps it is a reflection of the country's deep association with "han": the beauty people find in sadness.
History matters
Korean cinema reflects the unique cultural and historical experiences of the country. South Korea has undergone significant socio-political changes, including periods of authoritarian rule, rapid industrialization, and cultural transformation. The movies therefore showcase flawed characters who struggle with their desires, emotions, and moral choices. The exploration of these complexities often leads to non-conventional or dark endings that resonate with the human experience, presenting a more nuanced and realistic portrayal of life's uncertainties. Characters in Korean movies often possess multi-dimensional personalities, inner conflicts, and complex motivations. This adds layers of ambiguity and depth to the storytelling, allowing audiences to engage with morally complex characters who may not conform to traditional notions of heroism.
Korean movies often offer thought-provoking perspectives on the consequences of societal norms and the impact on individual ethics. Rather than focusing solely on escapism or delivering simplistic narratives of good versus evil in spandex, Korean filmmakers often delve into the grey areas of human behavior and social conflict. They explore the complexities of human nature, challenging traditional notions of morality and presenting characters who grapple with moral ambiguity. They are everything we are in real life. And they are beautiful for it.
Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online.
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