Celebrating the Female Gaze in Korean Cinema

Words Mila Fielker, Art Minh Thao Dao

The mechanics of filmmaking was shaped by the hands of men in the late 1800s, and male directors have continued to dominate the industry over a century later. The film eye asserts a gaze: the act of viewing that conveys a subjective truth or perception. Indeed, cinema is a continuation of the male gaze reinforced throughout the history of art, with John Berger attributing the sexualisation and objectification of the female form as key elements. Berger even argues that women objectify themselves, perpetually conscious of their being gazed upon. The male gaze is a cultural behaviour based on hierarchical power structures, it is not solely dependent on your sex. 

In cinema, the male gaze is a term coined by legendary film theorist, Laura Mulvey, and refers to the voyeuristic nature of the camera lens as a means for male sexual pleasure. Onscreen, the female body is often aestheticised, sexualised, objectified, and subjected to extreme violence, while female narratives are sidelined or painfully generic. Through their own lens, women can explore the multitudes of female experience - for it is not one and the same - as well as take part in the joy of storytelling. Subverting the male gaze allows filmmakers to contemplate the nuance of varying perspectives. 

The struggle for female filmmakers to hold a place in Korean cinema speaks to the belief that a woman’s perspective and directorial ability are inferior, as well as the poor industry support within a patriarchal society. The first female director was Park Nam-ok, with her pioneering, yet misunderstood, depiction of feminine desire in The Widow (1955). Despite modest developments throughout the next three decades, including the first feminist film collective, Kaidu Club, at Ewha Womans University, and working directors such as Choi Eun-hee and Hwang Hye-mi, women’s careers were often short lived or forgotten.  

Evolving from the discourse formed during the labor movements of the 70s and 80s, the mid 90s saw an emergence of women’s movements concerned with championing the female experience within society. Meanwhile, a budding network of female filmmakers started to gain recognition. Byun Young-joo’s powerful series of documentaries, which voiced the horrors endured by comfort women before and during WWII, not only received critical acclaim but incited demand for the ongoing support and justice of these women. Byun also founded the feminist film collective, Bariteo, the first group to actively take part in and promote female film production. In 1996, Yim Soon-rye explored masculinity with her slice-of-life debut, Three Friends, offering a unique exploration of the struggles young men encounter within Korean societal confines. This decade was also defined by the popularity of the Rom-Com. Although aggressively marketed towards women, the genre was almost exclusively produced by men. Lee Jeong-hyang’s Art Museum by the Zoo (1998) is one of the rare examples written and directed by a woman. 

Art Museum by the Zoo

(미술관 옆 동물원, 1998)

Art Museum by the Zoo playfully toys with the laws of the Rom-Com without sacrificing the emotional depth of the film. The female protagonist (Shim Eun-ha) is particularly endearing as the messy, tomboyish idealist, who is never required to satisfy feminine ideals to get the guy. It is undoubtedly predictable, yet evokes a unique charm that captures your attention. This slow burn is a satisfyingly ordinary portrayal of love, captured in nostalgic amber hue.

The growing film industry in the late 90s, with the inception of the Korean New Wave, prompted an increase of organisational support for women. The Seoul International Women’s Film Festival (SIWFF), founded in 1997, advocates the female gaze as stated through their slogan, “See the World Through Women’s Eyes”, with the Asian Short Film & Video Competition fostering the careers of female directors including Jeong Jae-eun and Park Chan-ok. 

Stylistic and thematic developments continued after 2000, with Yim Soon-rye’s cult classic, Waikiki Brothers (2001), developing on her honest portrayals of everyday Korea, and Park Chan-ok’s debut, Jealousy is my Middle Name (2002), slyly unmasking toxic masculinity. The turn of the millennium also caused a deepening sense of social isolation in the face of a rapidly connected yet consumerist world. Jeong Jae-eun’s Take Care Of My Cat (2001) addresses this cultural shift through the eyes of young women. 

Take Care of My Cat

(고양이를 부탁해, 2001)

Jeong’s bittersweet account of five girlfriends navigating life after high school is a candid depiction of female adolescence. The film never romanticises their hardships, instead, harsh realities are speckled with the ephemeral, joyful moments they share together. Take Care of My Cat reveals the turbulence of emerging adulthood in an unassuming yet poignant way, capturing a timely and honest representation of youth in post millennium Korea.

After films including Take Care of My Cat and Waikiki Brothers suffered poor box office performances, filmmakers organised a festival in support, demonstrating a growing sense of comradery amongst independent directors. The commercial and critical success of Lee Jeong-hyang’s The Way Home (2002) also made clear the mainstream potential of female-directed films. 

In addition, Byun Young-joo’s Ardor (2002) revealed the diversifying transformation of Feminist discourse, with the film’s content provoking debate as to whether it was empowering or derivative. Women’s movements would also come to instigate political strides, including the 2005 abolishment of the patrilineal family register. Yet, the 2006 formation of The Film Festival for Women’s Rights, and their objective to bring to light the sustained violence inflicted upon women, highlighted the progress yet to be made. 

In later years, the few active female filmmakers continued to work while others made their debut. Yim Soon-rye’s account of the 2004 South Korean women’s handball team’s olympic journey in Forever the Moment (2008) became a sleeper hit, and her most commercially successful film. Lee Kyoung-mi’s first feature, Crush and Blush (2008), subverted gender stereotypes with screwball humour. It was Park Chan-ok’s long awaited second film, Paju (2009), that truly delved into the female character arc.

Paju

(파주, 2009)

Paju is an intelligent, daring narrative rich with latent meaning. Set in misty Paju, it explores the complex relationship between adolescent Eun-mo (Seo Woo) and her brother-in-law, Joong-shik (Lee Sun-kyun). Park’s film is an atmospheric reflection on morality, politics and emotional conflict, with a delicately layered narrative to portray its characters in remarkable depth without surrendering every detail. It is this elegant balancing act that makes Paju so affecting and sincere. 

The underlying political commentary evident in Paju would come to intensify in later films. The 2012 election of the first female president, Park Geun-hye, appeared to shift the involvement of women within politics in a favourable direction. But Park’s eventual impeachment in 2016, as well as the social unrest from the 2014 sinking of MV Sewol and her growing corruption, created a landscape of mistrust towards female leaders and general political turmoil. 

Yet, it was the students at Ewha Womans University that first incited protests against Park’s corruption, eventually giving rise to the Candlelight Revolution. These young women also influenced the spike in ticket sales at the SIWFF in 2016, supporting the nearby venue as an extension of their cause. 

The 2016 Seocho-dong murder of a young woman in a public restroom, and the male assaliant’s confessed misogyny, also incited protests demanding societal reform. The controversial online Feminist forum, Megalia, was formed in 2015, and later WOMAD in 2016, which revealed both the increasing platform for radical voices in the community and the ideological conflict forming within it. 

As well as Byun Young-joo’s commercial success with Helpless (2012), and Roh Deok’s debut with her witty anti Rom-Com, Very Ordinary Couple (2013), darker explorations of maternal relationships were shown in Ku Hye-sun’s Daughter (2014) and July Jung’s A Girl at my Door (2014).

A Girl at My Door

(도희야, 2014)

Jung’s A Girl at My Door depicts marginalised social affairs with intricacy and nerve by engaging with the entanglement of issues within the small town locale, including alcoholism, homophobia, abuse and migrant labor rights. The film’s LGBTQ+ presence significantly limited its budget, with both female leads agreeing to work for free. A Girl at My Door unfolds into a disturbing conclusion, and thoughtfully uncovers shrouded discriminations within society at large. 

Yim Soon-rye’s The Whistleblower (2014), Lee Kyoung-mi’s The Truth Beneath (2016) also presented overt political themes, and Shin Su-won’s socially conscious film, Madonna (2016), went on to be screened at Cannes’ Un Certain Regard. The rising Feminist movements from 2015 to 2016 began to influence industry perceptions, with investors starting to view female directors with both artistic and commerical value. Likewise, independent films began to amass higher audience attendance, including Yoon Ga-eun’s The World of Us (2016) and Jeon Go-woon’s Microhabitat (2017). Yim Soon-rye’s latest return with the understated Little Forest (2018) was a clear departure from the fast-paced action blockbusters favoured at the time. 

Little Forest

(리틀 포레스트, 2018)

Based on the manga, twentysomething Hye-won (Kim Tae-ri), faced with unrealised dreams, escapes the city and returns to her childhood home in a small traditional Korean village. The film’s languid pace is guided by long takes of the idyllic scenery and cosy scenes of the food she makes. Watching Little Forest feels healing, as you contemplate lost dreams, relationships and the comfort of good food. 

Since 2018, Feminist developments have gained momentum from the globally reaching MeToo Movement. This display of solidarity gave women the courage to expose abusive behaviour within the entertainment industry. It also strengthened movements such as Escape the Corset, a protest against destructive beauty ideals, and the ongoing fight against spy cams in women’s bathrooms. In the beginning of 2018, SIWFF collaborated with the government agency, Korean Film Council (KOFIC), in order to actively better the industry’s support for women within cinema.

The next year female filmmakers found both mainstream and independent success. Kim Do-young’s highly divisive Kim Ji-young: Born 1982 (2019) dissected the deep-set patriarchal values of Korean society, and initiated a nationwide discussion of societal gender bias. Yoon Ga-eun’s The House of Us (2019), a sequel to The World of Us (2016), continues her musing explorations of childhood. Kim Bora’s critical acclaim at international film festivals with House of Hummingbird (2019) admitted her into the canon of great modern Korean directors. 

House of Hummingbird

(벌새, 2019)

Kim’s coming-of-age story about 14 year old Eun-hee (Park Ji-hoo) is a moving, tentative account of female youth. Set in 1994, the Seongsu bridge collapse becomes a pivotal anchor for the narrative, and an important temporal signifier of modern Korean history. House of Hummingbird is both deeply personal and a remarkable study of cultural formings. 

2019 also marked a historic year in the mainstream global appreciation of Korean cinema, with Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite (2019) winning four Academy Awards and receiving praise from critics and audiences alike. However, the world’s knowledge and appraisal of Korean cinema mainly through male auteurs such as Bong Joon-ho, Park Chan-wook and Lee Chang-dong highlights the lasting dismissal of female directors. 

The few women within Korean cinema attest to the female gaze as worthy, with filmmakers producing inventive, compelling and entertaining films. As societal attitudes continue to shift, this will hopefully inspire the deserved celebration of female filmmakers at home and globally.