South Korea’s 2016 zombie apocalypse horror film Train to Busan broke major records, becoming not just one of the country’s top-grossing films of all time, but an international hit as well. It was the latest in a string of genre films hailing from South Korea earning critical praise. Bong Joon-Ho’s Snowpiercer has an American TV series adaptation on the way, and it took no time at all for remake rights to be snatched up for Na Hong-jin’s haunting 2016 horror film The Wailing shortly after release. That South Korea has emerged as a major player in horror is even more fascinating considering that it wasn’t until the late ‘90s that its film industry saw a sort of renaissance, laying the groundwork for the young directors that have become vital voices in cinema.
Most of the ‘70s was a period filled with censorship and propaganda, and only filmmakers that were deemed ideologically approved by the government could release new films. The propaganda heavy films meant audiences opted out of going to the theater, choosing to get their entertainment from television instead. Because of drooping box office numbers, the government loosened their grip on the film industry in the ‘80s, and the Motion Picture Law of 1984 finally opened the door for independent filmmakers. By the end of the decade, restrictions on foreign films were lifted, a move that no doubt influenced future generations of filmmakers with access to the films.
The biggest event that shaped South Korean cinema, though, was the 1997 Asian financial crisis that started with the collapse of Thai currency, spreading to most of Southeast Asia and Japan. South Korea was among the countries most affected, which resulted in reshaping their film industry to adapt to the economy. It opened the doors for young directors and streamlined production costs. In other words, this was the pivotal moment that set the foundation of South Korean cinema as we know it today.
What makes South Korean cinema so different is its hyper-focus on real-life social issues. The prequel for Train to Busan, Seoul Station, was a harsh critique on the treatment of Seoul’s homeless population. The Wailing touches on xenophobia. South Korea’s filmmakers expertly weave in acute social commentary with the supernatural, thrillers, and gore, and take it a step further by often blurring the lines between genres. For those looking to dive into South Korean horror, here’s where to start:
Whispering Corridors
The first in a series of five films, Whispering Corridors isn’t even the best one of the bunch. It is, however, instrumental in shaping South Korean horror as one of the first released after the liberation from censorship. Set in an all-girl high school, where a teacher’s suicide has inspired a young teacher to investigate the cause. Naturally, things are not what they seem at this school, and its darkened halls are haunted by a vengeful ghost. It bears trademarks of the typical Asian ghost story, and it’s slower paced. But it’s also an examination and criticism of the education system and sexual abuse. This atmospheric low budget haunter is far more complex than its budget indicates.
A Tale of Two Sisters
Inspired by an old folktale, this psychological supernatural horror film is notable for being the first South Korean horror film screened in American theaters. The plot follows two sisters returning home from a stay at a mental institution. They find their father quite distant and their stepmother cruel and seemingly unbalanced. Their homecoming is further compounded by the presence of a ghost. As much a treatise on guilt as it is a terrifying supernatural chiller, Kim Jee-woon’s polished horror film strays far from the typical Asian horror released at the time thanks to some shocking left turns in the narrative.
Bedevilled
Director Cheol-soo Jang lulls the viewer with its slow pace before unleashing vicious savagery in the film’s second half. The first half is a drawn-out excruciating watch of lead Kim Bok-nam being subjected to physical, mental, and sexual abuse by her husband, town elders, and so-called friends. It’s the type of uncomfortable watch that elicits a strong emotional response, as you’re left feeling pissed on behalf of poor Bok-nam. Enter the second half, full of violent, unrestrained, tour de force of unleashed revenge. Visceral and cathartic, Cheol-soo Jang’s feature debut is a doozy.
Thirst
Park Chan-wook is one of the most critically acclaimed filmmakers hailing from South Korea. Well known for the demented and delightfully twisted Vengeance Trilogy, the director has a unique brand of brutal black humor. So, it’s no surprise that he delivers exactly that with his exceptional take on the vampire mythos. Following a Catholic priest that volunteers for a medical experiment only to find himself stricken with vampirism, Thirst is nothing like any vampire film you’ve seen. It’s weird, tragic, and darkly funny as the Catholic priest grapples morally with his newfound thirst for blood and an awakened sexuality. Enter South Korean’s first film to feature male full-frontal nudity. In true style, Thirst builds to a gory climax.
I Saw the Devil
On paper, Jae-woon Kim’s masterpiece reads like any other serial killer, crime-driven horror film, in which a secret agent seeks revenge on a serial killer after said killer brutally murders his fiancée. This quickly proves to be anything but ordinary or typical. Serial killer Jang Kyung-chul rapes and murders his victims, butchering them in pieces with glee. Grisly but typical, right? But the secret agent, Kim Soo-hyeon, also happens to be a psychopath. He catches and tortures Kyung-chul but then lets him go. Why? So he can intercept Kyung-chul every time he’s about to kill again, escalating the torture. It turns into a tense cat and mouse game between psycho and psycho, with unflinching, gruesome graphic violence.