‘Reading the room’: Emotions of the Korean New Wave

With the popularity of Netflix’s Squid Game, Bong Joon Ho’s Parasite and Lee Isaac Chung’s Minari, Korean media is gaining dramatic attention in the world spotlight. Despite this, only a select few break into the cultural zeitgeist and become international successes, while the vast majority of Korean classics remain dormant in obscurity.

Understanding this phenomenon requires a deep dive into the rich emotions of modern Korea (한국), romanised as Hankuk. Hankuk is composed of two parts — Han meaning the Han people (Koreans) and kuk meaning nation, thus, together, forming the Korean nation. However, Han can also translate to resentment and sorrow, ironically mirroring the traumatic history of modern Korea. Is most Korean media shielded from the global stage due to the Koreans having too much Han?

*Image Credit: Cineworld, Eagle Pictures*

Whether it be the collective trauma of colonialism, or the heartbreaking separation of North and South, the shared cultural and emotional imagination of Koreans has been reshaped around a multi-layered non-verbal form of communication. Eye contact, physical affection and double entendre have collectively formed a shared culture of ‘reading the room’. As such, there are many films that reflect this cultural minutiae and touch the hearts and minds of Korean audiences, but remain lost in translation when exported to other countries. While they may be a hit back home, they fail to find success beyond the domestic box office.

Lee Young-ju’s Architecture 101 has been lauded as a classic of the Korean romance genre as it follows the burgeoning love between two college sweethearts, Lee Seung-min and Yang Seo-yeon, shifting between the past and the present. Initially, they fall in love in their architecture class. However, a mistake severs contact, until 15 years later, when Seo-yeon requests for Seung-min to build her dream home in the present.

Despite the film garnering a domestic box office gross of $26 million and winning a slate of awards, it has failed to reach the same success overseas. Perhaps Western audiences may disregard it due to its perceived adherence to the trite separated lovers trope, resolving with the classic cliché of eventual reunion.

However, the portrayal of their relationship in the present — where they both understand that they cannot be together due to their own personal lives, despite their lingering feelings — is represented in a hyper-realistic manner through indirect dialogue. This resonated with domestic Korean audiences, evoking the dual nature of ‘han’ and the sorrow between individuals. This is reinforced in Suzy Bae’s pure portrayal of a bumbling first year college student, accompanied by Lee Je Hoon’s portrayal of a shy college boy who made the wrong choice. The multi-layered nature of their dialogue, coupled with their contrasting and misaligned eye contact, was not only endearing as a nostalgic reflection of first loves, but effectively evoked an implicit emotion amongst the domestic population, creating an internationally underrated hit.

Similarly, the historical drama The King and the Clown, directed by Lee Joon Ik and written by Choi Seok Hwan, showcases the close mateship between two street clowns — Jangsaeung portrayed by Kam Woo-sung, and Gong-gil portrayed by Lee Joon-Gi — who are skilled in tightrope walking. Performing a skit that mocks the court, they attract a lot of negative attention. However, the King is entertained by their performance, appointing the two as official court jesters. With the King’s mental health faltering, he soon falls in love with Gong-gil who is renowned for his feminine looks, leading Jangsaeung to feel both jealous and concerned. Ultimately, the trio’s relationship between love, friendship and respect is tested as they are led towards their downfall.

Unlike Architecture101, which failed to receive any international presence despite its commercial and critical success, The King and the Clown managed to gain moderate momentum and international acclaim, winning the Jury Prize at the 2007 Deauville Asian Film Festival, as well as being South Korea’s submission for the 2006 Academy Awards for Best Foreign Language film. However, it continues to remain both under-appreciated and unknown by the majority of the Western audiences, frequently missing from discussions of great Korean cinema. How can this be?

Park Chan Wook’s neo-noir Oldboy received international praise and popularity due to the exotic flow of its unravelling mystery, accompanied by its polished, well-choreographed action sequences. Active verbal communication carries the plot, utilised in the frequent in-person and telephonic interactions between the protagonist Daesu and the mysterious antagonist, who kept him in captivity for 10 years. In comparison, The King and the Clown utilised a multi-layered scheme of both verbal and non-verbal communication. Close mateship is portrayed through verbal means, whilst an essence of romantic feelings and emotions are captured through non-verbal eye contact and physical actions. Though the domestic audience were able to catch on to the non-verbal emotions, due to shared cultural experience in ‘reading the room’, this may have not resonated with wider Western audiences, thus leading to its under-appreciation.

Multi-layered verbal dialogue, non-verbal communication; these domestic hits tapped into a shared experience and collective trauma that resonated with viewers in Korea. By unearthing and unpacking these films that have remained under-appreciated in the West, hopefully you can be better equipped to explore the unique culture of ‘reading the room’ through implicit communication and its cinematic representations. As well as, perhaps form a new theoretical lens through which you can analyse film.