<The Statue of Brothers> at the War Memorial of Korea in Yongsan, Seoul, symbolizes the tragedy of a nation divided and the enduring hope for reunification.
The Korean War (1950-53) is often called “the forgotten war” in the West. Yet in Korean cinema, this war has never been forgotten. Over the past seventy years, countless directors have revisited the conflict—not merely to reconstruct history, but to continuously explore the scars of division, the pain of family separation, and the fractures of identity.
As a scholar who has long studied Korean cinema and cultural memory, I see these war films not just as depictions of battles or ideological tools, but as living archives. They condense emotion, memory, politics, and narrative. Through these films, we connect past and present and confront unresolved questions that persist today.
From State-Sponsored Films to Blockbusters
Korean War films have evolved across the decades and generations. One of the earliest and most notable examples is Piagol (1955), directed by Lee Kang-cheon. Produced shortly after the war, it was not a state-sponsored propaganda film, but rather a civilian production that portrayed the moral and emotional conflict of North Korean partisans hiding in the Taebaek mountains near the war’s end. Controversial at the time, Piagol was subject to censorship and delayed release due to its nuanced depiction of ideology and humanity.
By the 1960s, state-backed films like The Marines Who Never Returned (1963), Five Marines (1961), and Red Scarf (1964) began to dominate the screen, emphasizing anti-communist sentiment and national sacrifice. These early war films reflect how the Korean state used cinema to shape collective memory, yet they also mark the beginning of a complex and shifting genre.
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The epic Taebaek Mountains (1994), adapted from the novel by Jo Jung-rae and directed by Im Kwon-taek, stands out as a monumental work portraying the ideological conflicts and human struggles in the war’s aftermath. Blockbusters like Taegukgi: The Brotherhood of War (2004) brought the fraternal tragedy of war to mainstream audiences. The fantasy-tinged Welcome to Dongmakgol (2005) imagined a space beyond ideology, where peace was possible.
By analyzing these films generation by generation, we see how directors reflect their era’s memory. The trauma of war is not just history; it is repeatedly resurrected in memory, silence, and narrative form.
Memory, Trauma, and Generations
At the core of Korean War films lies “memory.” This includes the firsthand memories of war survivors and the postmemory—indirect memories inherited by subsequent generations. The stories of unsung heroes, families left behind in the North, and longing for the Demilitarized Zone connect across generations.
Gender is crucial here, too. Women are not merely victims or background figures; they are preservers of memory, moral voices, and embodiments of suppressed pain. My research focuses on women’s roles and narratives within this memory landscape.
Why This Matters Today
In today’s society, war is often experienced indirectly through screens and social media. Korean War films serve as vital “memory spaces.” They ask us: How is history remembered? Who has the right to tell it? And what do we lose when memory fades?
This blog will share insights from my research and teaching on Korean cinema. Beyond Korean War films, I will explore historical films and their broader social contexts. In upcoming posts, I will examine key films, discussing family separation, masculinity, and mourning.
Let’s Remember Together
What memories do you hold of the Korean War? Whether from personal experience, your parents’ stories, or feelings evoked by film, let’s remember and discuss together.
– Hyunseon Lee
