Korea’s Road to Fame: 10 Essential Movies from the 90s
The global wave of South Korean entertainment, including some of the Most Famous Korean Movie productions celebrated today, didn’t emerge overnight. The 1990s were a pivotal decade, fostering immense creativity and laying the groundwork for Korean cinema’s international rise. Renowned critic Darcy Paquet, whose insights have illuminated Korean film for many, compiled a list reflecting the most interesting and enduring works from this era. These selections, driven by personal taste yet rooted in deep expertise, showcase the diversity and artistic power that defined 90s Korean cinema. This list focuses on feature films, excluding shorts, and represents a curated look at the decade’s influential works, acknowledging that other classics like Sopyonje (1993) and Green Fish (1997) also hold significant merit.
Here are Darcy Paquet’s top ten Korean feature films from the 1990s, presented in alphabetical order, offering a glimpse into the foundation upon which modern Korean cinematic fame was built.
Black Republic (1990, Park Kwang-soo)
Director Park Kwang-soo’s second feature follows a student activist hiding from authorities who finds work in a small mining town. He gradually connects with the miners and their struggles. Actor Moon Sung-keun delivers a standout performance as the quiet activist transformed by his experiences. While remaining largely passive, his fugitive status inevitably catches up with him. Without being preachy, Park crafts a thoughtful narrative, immersing the audience in the life of a community bypassed by Korea’s rapid industrialization, making it a significant piece of classic Korean cinema from the period.
Christmas in August (1998, Hur Jin-ho)
Hur Jin-ho’s debut is a masterfully subtle piece centered on a photographer savoring life’s beauty in the face of his impending death. Han Seok-gyu and Shim Eun-ha deliver arguably career-best performances, portraying a brief yet deeply affecting friendship that changes both characters. The film poignantly explores the role of photographs and the legacies they preserve. Hur’s introspective approach effectively redefines melodrama. While not typical of Asian cinema sought by some Western critics, its understated power has earned enduring devotion from viewers, cementing its reputation over time as one of the influential Korean films leading towards today’s recognition.
Christmas in August scene showing Han Seok-gyu and Shim Eun-ha in the photo studio
The Day a Pig Fell Into the Well (1996, Hong Sang-soo)
Considered the most accomplished Korean art film of the 90s, Hong Sang-soo reportedly merged four different screenplays for his debut. This exploration of cruelty intertwines the lives of two men and two women connected by an affair. The film’s brilliance lies in its characterization; Hong masterfully allows the audience to understand and become fascinated by each individual as they navigate self-created obstacles. This intricate portrayal lingers long after viewing, marking it as essential viewing for those exploring Korean film history.
Eternal Empire (1995, Park Chong-wan)
This stunning costume drama utilizes the geometry of palace architecture unlike any other film. Adapted from a well-known Korean novel, this Chosun Era intrigue begins with a death in the royal library, drawing viewers into a labyrinth of power plays and deception. The cinematography is the star, employing fixed angles but constantly shifting perspectives, moving restlessly through the vast, disorienting set where few rooms are seen more than once. It’s both a visual feast and a remarkable display of cinematic technique.
The Lovers of Woomook-baemi (1990, Jang Sun-woo)
Jang Sun-woo is arguably one of Korea’s most consistently intriguing directors, and almost any of his 90s films could qualify for this list. However, Woomook-baemi stands out as a favorite. It’s a deceptively simple story about an extramarital affair between two factory workers in a small town. Without resorting to melodrama or tricks, Jang paints a compelling picture of quiet desperation. Memorable scenes include the couple’s first awkward hotel night, their eventual intimacy, and the wife’s violent retrieval of her husband from Seoul. Though less known internationally, it is highly regarded within Korea and cited as influential by younger directors.
Memento Mori (1999, Kim Tae-yong and Min Kyu-dong)
Released just before the new millennium, this creative and passionate film earns its place among the decade’s best. Labeled a horror film, it focuses less on scares and more on exploring the aftermath of a young girl’s suicide, seeking to understand the act and mourn the loss. Directors Kim and Min demonstrate ambition, tackling sensitive themes. Despite production company and rating board limitations on its homosexual content, they successfully craft a serious, moving portrait of youth betrayed by societal pressures, making it a standout piece of critically acclaimed Korean movies from the late 90s.
Intense scene from Memento Mori, a classic Korean horror film from the 90s
The Murmuring (1995, Byun Young-ju)
This is the first of three powerful documentaries by Byun Young-ju about the “comfort women”—women from Korea and other nations forced into sexual slavery by the Japanese Army during World War II. The film’s impact extended far beyond cinemas, bringing crucial attention to a painful history many wished to ignore and profoundly affecting the lives of the women featured. Beyond the director’s conviction and passion, Byun possesses a sharp artistic sensibility that makes this difficult subject captivating and essential viewing.
No. 3 (1997, Song Neung-han)
Director Song Neung-han might insist his debut isn’t a comedy, but No. 3 is widely considered one of the funniest Korean films of the 1990s. This brilliant satire of gangsters and poets achieved cult status among Korean youth. Its strength lies in the colorful ensemble cast: Han Seok-gyu as the titular gangster asserting he’s No. 2; Song Kang-ho as the hyperactive trainer of young thugs; Park Sang-myun as a brute named “Ashtray”; Park Kwang-jung as the poetry-spouting Rimbaud trying to avoid a gangster’s wife (Bang Eun-hee); and Choi Min-shik as the hard-nosed detective aiming to jail them all. It’s an unforgettable, unruly journey through Korea’s underworld.
Nowhere to Hide (1999, Lee Myung-se)
While director Lee Myung-se’s earlier First Love (1993) is a lovely work, Nowhere to Hide stands out for its greater ambition and stylistic form. The film’s thrill comes less from conventional action or humor and more from the sheer cinematic invention pulsating in every frame. The ending, despite (or perhaps because of) its artificiality, is particularly striking: hunter and hunted confront each other as night miraculously shifts to day, rain falls through sunshine, and the ensuing chaos provides a simple resolution to the film’s intricate web of chases and deceptions.
Push! Push! (1997, Park Chul-soo)
Freewheeling, irreverent, and utterly unpredictable, Push! Push! unfolds within an obstetrics and gynecology ward. Its unconventional narrative follows two female doctors (played by Bang Eun-jin and Hwang Shin-hye, who also starred in 301/302) navigating a chaotic mix of societal passions and problems. Amidst director Park Chul-soo’s dynamic camera work and the hospital’s frenzy, these two characters provide an emotional anchor. The film serves as both a scathing social critique and a heartfelt commentary, representing the bold experimentation found in 90s Korean movie making.
Scene inside the obstetrics ward from the unconventional Korean movie Push! Push!
These ten films, selected by Darcy Paquet, represent just a fraction of the creative energy that defined Korean cinema in the 1990s. They showcase a range of genres, styles, and themes, from intimate dramas and art-house experiments to stylish thrillers and poignant documentaries. This era was crucial in developing the talent and distinct cinematic language that would later capture global attention, contributing significantly to the rise of what many now recognize as the Most Famous Korean Movie landscape. Exploring these 90s classics offers invaluable context and appreciation for the rich history behind South Korea’s cinematic achievements.