(From left) Professors Dong-Yeop Shin, Bo-Kyung Kim, and Hong-Seok Oh of Yonsei University School of Business

(From left) Professors Dong-Yeop Shin,
Bo-Kyung Kim, and Hong-Seok Oh of Yonsei University School of Business

Professors Shin Dong-youb and Oh Hong-seok of Yonsei University’s School of Business, along with Professor Kim Sun-hyuk of Korea University, have long been avid film enthusiasts. Professor Oh, in particular, has written thousands of movie reviews on the film recommendation platform Watcha Pedia. Professors Oh and Shin were especially interested in films that tackle social issues. They became curious as to why, unlike in many other countries, “social problem films” had become a prominent genre in the Korean film market. To explore this question, they interviewed directors, producers, and other industry professionals about the unique characteristics of Korean cinema. A common theme emerged: regardless of the genre, Korean films often include elements of social criticism. This recurring observation prompted the researchers to investigate further. Professor Shin, a theorist; Professor Oh, an expert in network analysis through surveys and interviews; and Professor Kim, who specializes in qualitative research methods, began collecting and categorizing data. The team was later joined by Professor Kim Bo-kyung of Yonsei University’s School of Business, marking the start of their full-scale research.

Beginning in 2019, Professors Shin Dong-youb, Oh Hong-seok, and Kim Sun-hyuk conducted extensive in-depth interviews with five directors, three producers, and one commentator to test their hypothesis, alongside quantitative empirical analysis. Professor Kim Bo-kyung examined 2,500 Korean films produced between 1994 and 2017, and carried out a quantitative study on 1,849 of them classified as social problem films (SPFs). At Professor Kim Bo-kyung’s suggestion, the team specially focused on the distinction between status and reputation, analyzing how these two factors differently influenced directors’ decisions to engage with SPFs. Ultimately, they confirmed that both a director’s status and reputation positively influenced their likelihood of choosing to direct social problem films. Professor Shin wrote the initial draft of the paper, which was further developed and refined by Professor Kim Bo-kyung. The final paper, titled Who are Social Critics: The Effect of Directors’ Status and Reputation on the Choice of Social Problem Films in the Korean Film Industry was published in the April 2025 issue of Poetics, a leading international journal focused on interdisciplinary research in the humanities and social sciences.

Why Social Problem Films? The research team defines social problem films as a genre in which the central narrative revolves around the portrayal of a social issue. These films are also referred to as “social conscience films” (though the researchers use the term “social problem film” in their paper), these works aim to spotlight socially sensitive topics, critique societal realities, expose injustice, and ultimately inspire change. In Korea, the genre began to gain traction in the late 1980s—an era often referred to as the New Wave—with the emergence of directors such as Jang Sun-woo (The Age of Success, 1988; (The Lovers of Woomook-baemi, 1990), Park Kwang-su (Chilsu and Mansu, 1988; A Single Spark, 1995), and Chung Ji-young (North Korean Partisan In South Korea, 1990; White Badge, 1992). According to the paper, this trend has continued consistently, establishing social problem films as one of the defining genres of Korean cinema.

During the study period from 1994 to 2017, approximately 18% of all commercially released feature films in Korea were classified as SPFs, with an even higher proportion among commercially successful films. On average, about three SPFs appeared annually in the top ten box office rankings. Many internationally acclaimed Korean films have also prominently featured SPFs as their primary genre. A notable example is Parasite (2019) by Bong Joon-ho, which was ranked number one on The New York Times’ list of “The 100 Best Movies of the 21st Century.” In its commentary, the newspaper described the film as “a tale of haves and have-nots, and a ferocious rebuke to the devastations of neoliberalism,” lauding its powerful social critique. Other prominent examples of Korean SPFs that have garnered both domestic and international recognition include Bong Joon-ho’s Memories of Murder (2003) and The Host (2006), Park Chan-wook’s Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance (2002), and Im Sang-soo’s The President’s Last Bang (2005).

One point of interest is why the research period begins in 1994. According to Professor Kim Bo-kyung, this was the era when so-called “planned films”—such as Marriage Story (1992) and How to Top My Wife (1994)—began reshaping the landscape of Korean cinema. Unlike earlier works, films from this period were developed through a structured process involving market research, theme selection, and targeted marketing, thereby laying the foundation for a formalized film industry. By definition, an industry records and manages data systematically. As a result, this shift enabled the collection of meaningful statistics and the identification of trends that could be empirically tracked—marking a distinct new phase in Korean cinema. The research team’s graph (Table 1) clearly shows a steady upward trajectory in the number of social problem films over time. In industries where capital drives production decisions, trends typically follow box office performance. The consistent rise in social problem films suggests that this genre has become a powerful and enduring presence in the Korean film industry.

(Table 1)

through the lens of status and reputation, it revealed compelling insights into the structural factors that contributed to the genre’s rise as a mainstream choice among Korean directors. Tables 2 and 3 plot the number of award-winning films by each director on the X-axis and the likelihood of choosing the social problem film genre on the Y-axis. The analysis compares two distinct periods—Korean cinema’s Renaissance period (1994–2006) and Post-Renaissance period (2007–2017)—as well as directors with limited versus extensive experience in making social problem films. The paper investigates why social problem films have gained such prevalence in the Korean film industry by examining how the structural characteristics of key industry figures are positively associated with their tendency to choose this genre. One additional clarification worth noting is why the years 2006 and 2007 were chosen as the boundary between the Renaissance and Post-Renaissance periods in Table 2.

(Table 2)

(Table 3)

The paper summarizes the bleak state of the Korean film industry at the time as follows:
“The Korean film industry faced a severe crisis in the mid-2000s, primarily caused by factors such as a significant surge in production costs during the Korean film renaissance, a string of blockbuster failures due to preproduction issues, and the global financial crisis. As a result, the share of Korean films in the domestic market declined from 63.8% in 2006 to 50.8% in 2007, accompanied by a sharp deterioration in the profitability of Korean films, plummeting from -22.9% in 2006 to -43% in 2007. For example, only one film managed to achieve profitability above 50% in 2007.” (Source: KOFIC)

Nevertheless, the Korean film industry’s interest in producing social problem films showed no signs of waning. As shown in Table 1, the proportion of SPFs did not decline from 2008 to 2017; in fact, it peaked in 2017. In this regard, the paper notes, “As the global popularity of Korean cinema grew, the production of social problem films also increased.” The authors further interpret that “the taken-for-grantedness of SPFs at the field level increased after 2006, alongside heightened global competition.” The paper concludes that the industry came to place even greater emphasis on SPFs as a defining characteristic that distinguished Korean films from Hollywood productions.

Are Directors Social Critics? While Tables 1 through 3 illustrate the growing prominence of social problem films in the Korean film industry, Professor Kim Bo-kyung offers insight into how these films were received by Korean audiences:
“Since 2006, Korean audiences have come to accept social problem films—or genres that incorporate social criticism—as a norm. While they enjoyed Hollywood films for entertainment, they expected something more from Korean films. That ‘something more’ was often fulfilled through social commentary. Even in comedies set in the world of gangsters, audiences felt that elements of social criticism should be included. Social problem films essentially became the default. The political climate also played a role. For nine years beginning in 2008, conservative governments were in power. During that time, numerous social issues and public controversies arose. As more works took a critical stance on these topics, the production of social problem films naturally increased.”

As a result, directors who achieved commercial success or critical acclaim with social problem films gained not only a reputation as skilled filmmakers but also recognition as social critics. The paper explains:
“For example, if directors have consistently demonstrated strong performance in the artistic realm—especially in a context where SPFs are highly regarded—they are often seen as having the capability to act as competent social critics.”

Many directors of social problem films had, before entering the film industry, either spoken out on social issues or directly participated in social movements, giving them firsthand or indirect experiences that shaped their perspectives as social critics. A significant number of key figures who led the Korean cinema renaissance belonged to the so-called “386 generation”—a term referring to individuals who were university students during the 1980s military regime and who personally witnessed the injustices of Korean society. Director Bong Joon-ho was one of them. When asked by the research team about the atmosphere of that time, he responded:
“I entered university in 1988, and when I was freshman, the entire campus was covered in tear gas. It was around the time the military regime was being ousted, so protesting was a part of our daily life. We would eat breakfast, go protest, go to our lectures, go back to protest, and then have dinner. And then, on our way home, we would find newspapers with photos of the protest that we were just at. So it was really part of our daily life.”

The career paths of many who later devoted themselves to filmmaking are reflected in the words of a producer interviewed by the research team:
“Many individuals who had actively participated in student protests found their way into the film industry. Initially, they began by creating independent films outside the established system, but they gradually integrated into the mainstream. Furthermore, during the early 1980s, numerous film-related student clubs were formed in prestigious universities. Although not all members of these clubs were directly involved in the student movement, a significant majority held left-leaning views.”

Based on this, the paper analyzes that “the liberal orientation of filmmakers in Korea has been amalgamated with the country’s tradition of realism, giving rise to SPFs. While realism has been the predominant approach in Korean cinema history, contemporary Korean filmmakers have adopted a strategy of blending it with established film genres.” To this foundation, directors possessing the capacity to serve as social commentators contributed, completing the formation of the social problem film genre. This analysis is further supported by the remarks of another director-producer interviewed for the paper:
“Korean directors have a tendency to address social issues in their films. Koreans are known for their political engagement and deep interest in social issues, making it crucial for directors to incorporate such themes in their narrative to effectively connect with the Korean audience and ensure commercial success. Korean directors utilize the discussion of social problems in their films as a means of effective communication with the audience.”

What Lies Ahead for Social Problem Films? This research, which explored how social problem films gained popularity in the Korean film industry, concludes that “producing SPFs positively influenced both the status and artistic reputation of directors.” Since the 1990s—when Korean cinema began to regain the trust of domestic audiences and earn global recognition—the media and film experts have frequently cited its genre diversity and storytelling distinct from Hollywood as key strengths. However, no previous study had empirically examined the structural factors behind this phenomenon with a specific focus on social problem films, as this paper does. That focus alone is noteworthy, but the true value of the paper lies beyond merely analyzing trends during the study period. If we use its findings to reflect on the broader dynamics of contemporary Korean society and the film industry, we may not be able to predict the future with complete certainty—but we can certainly gain valuable insight into what may lie ahead.

Even though the entire nation once again rose up against injustice—just as it had during the 1980s military regime—the key players and methods of protest have changed significantly. Fans waving light sticks, more commonly seen at idol concerts, gathered in public squares, singing pop songs and redefining the nature of the protests. Women in their 20s and 30s were at the forefront of this movement. During the Renaissance and Post-Renaissance periods of Korean cinema, male directors from the 386 generation were the driving force behind social problem films. If socially critical works continue to play a central role in Korean cinema, one may now ask whether female directors are positioned to take on that mantle. “People often say there’s no next chapter after the 386 generation reshaped the Korean film industry,” says Professor Kim Bo-kyung, “but I believe young female directors are poised to lead the next wave of change.”

Another glimpse into the future of Korean cinema offered by the paper lies in the shifting hubs for nurturing aspiring filmmakers. For the 386-generation directors—whose capacity for social critique the study highlights—universities and campus film clubs once served as key incubators of talent. Today, however, student activism has largely shifted from campuses to public squares, and young people aspiring to become filmmakers now seem to gravitate more toward institutions like the Korean Academy of Film Arts (KAFA) rather than university-based clubs. In fact, many emerging directors discovered through film festivals are KAFA graduates. Whether these trends and assumptions will still hold true a decade from now remains to be seen. What makes this study particularly compelling, however, is how it encourages us to reflect on Korean cinema, the film industry, and its audience from multiple perspectives. It underscores the importance of continued research and diverse lines of inquiry to help guide the Korean film industry forward.