Over the past two decades, some Korean films have achieved both critical and commercial success by promoting male characters who are physically dominant and intensely driven by their goals. But do these portrayals offer the ideal role model?

The new millennium began with a bang with Silmido (2003), a film about Unit 684, a secretive group of outcasts and criminals trained to assassinate North Korean dictator Kim Il-sung. This film surpassed the ten million attendee mark for the first time in the century-long history of Korean cinema. Before Silmido, the most successful film at the box office was Shiri (1999), which recorded about six million viewers—already considered phenomenal at the time. However, ten million was beyond phenomenal; it was an unprecedented, even perplexing number that made the industry rethink its approach to movies that could appeal to a broader audience. It seemed that the window of opportunity had opened to new possibilities.

The theme of geopolitical tension on the Korean peninsula, remnants of the Cold War era, was quickly picked up by subsequent films. Secret Reunion (2010), The Berlin File (2012), Confidential Assignment (2016), and Steel Rain (2017) all dealt with the fraught relationship between North and South Korea, mired in ideological conflict. Elements of the action-thriller genre were also widely tested and found successful in securing public interest. Consequently, male protagonists who solved intricate plot puzzles based on national historical events became prominent. While the desire for commercial success extended to other genres like horror and costume dramas, the central figure of the determined male hero—who saves the day with agility and strength, embodying the nation’s values—remained dominant. These characters represent a distinct shift from the pre-blockbuster era, where protagonists were often torn between decisions or brooding over existential questions.

It may be difficult to understand why these men are considered harmful or toxic. Some might argue that they are heroes who embody virtues we admire: strength, indomitability, independence, willpower, and perseverance. The problem, however, is not that they possess these qualities but that they do so precisely because they are men. These traits are monopolized as if they are intrinsically linked to masculinity. No one questions this connection, let alone criticizes it. As the association between masculinity and these virtues becomes more entrenched, it turns toxic. The problematic aspects of these characters—such as their inability to compromise, lack of compassion for anyone other than fellow Koreans, and insensitivity to others’ feelings—seem secondary compared to the issue of universal human values being exclusively tied to masculine ideals.

Men who claim universal values as their own and use violence to defend this ownership have been dominating the film industry.

This unnoticed link between masculinity and human values becomes especially dangerous when violence is added to the mix. The use of physical force in this context is not seen as violence per se; instead, it is framed as a means to reinforce or defend these values. This disguise is so effective that the vice of violence is never confronted head-on. For instance, in one of last year’s big hits, Smugglers (2023), violence is never clearly portrayed as bad. It is merely a way to assert masculine dominance. The corrupt police in the film use violence as if it’s the only language they know. Here, violence carries negative connotations because it is associated with morally bankrupt men. Nevertheless, the relationship between men and violence, and why they resort to brute force, is never questioned. The violence of the organized gang of smugglers is even justified because it helps the sea women—who anchor the emotional identification of the story—achieve their goal of getting gold. These men’s violence serves a purpose: doing “men’s work” and furthering the narrative’s bigger goal.

Men who claim universal values as their own and use violence to defend this ownership have been dominating the film industry. They even have the power to draw viewers. These toxic elements in male characters—driven by revenge, a need to assert dominance, or an obsession with protecting or avenging their honor or loved ones—continue to shape movie production and audience preferences. Isn’t it time we moved past this and explored new types of male characters?