Because I Hate Korea is a new generational film that speaks to Millennials, capturing their frustration, hopelessness for the future, and disenfranchisement from public engagements, such as politics. Does the movie offer a fair portrayal of generational angst?

Cinema has a long and rich history of generational films delving into chaos, anger, feelings of being lost, and the search for answers among young people. Rebel Without a Cause (1955), Bonnie and Clyde (1967), Trainspotting (1996), Donnie Darko (2001), and Lady Bird (2017) are just a handful of examples that marked a generation and its spirit by creating iconic images. Who could forget Faye Dunaway’s Bonnie in a tweed pencil skirt and wool beret—a robber, poetess, and fashion icon—or Jake Gyllenhaal’s Donnie sitting uncomfortably with the giant rabbit in the dimly lit theater? These characters often struggled with adjusting to adulthood, dismayed by the harsh realities of the world, or simply refused to accept societal norms, even if it meant being stuck in a limbo—neither fully grown-up nor children. Renton’s monologue in Trainspotting, “choose life, choose a job, choose a career, choose a family, choose a f**king big television,” seems to capture the anxieties and uncertainty that cut across generational films.

Gye-na, played by Go Ah-sung in Because I Hate Korea, chooses to immigrate to New Zealand to escape it all. She’s in her twenties, spends four hours commuting, and feels her job offers no future. However Gye-na’s decision to leave Korea as a solution to her problems should be understood in the context of “Hell Joseon,” a term that began circulating in the mid-2010s when the book upon which the film is based was published. Hell Joseon is a self-deprecating term that describes Korea as an unbearable place to plan one’s future. It suggests that the country is as regressive as the pre-modern Joseon Dynasty and as competitive as Hell. This is how the younger generation perceives Korea: an outdated and rigid social system that only protects the rich and privileged. The culture is so results-oriented that the efforts behind achievements are hardly recognized.

Hell Joseon also prompted outward-looking fantasies about other countries that seem to be in better shape. This idealized view of foreign countries led to uncorroborated notions, such as the belief that a particular country, for instance, has a fantastic, equally accessible education system. The list of romanticized destinations continues, boasting good nature, a great healthcare system, clean air, kind people, and so on. It is ironic that the increasing use of Hell Joseon in daily conversations and media coincided with the rise of the prefix “K,” which stands for Korean. The widespread adoption of “K”—in K-pop, K-food, K-culture, and K-movies—signals a previously unimaginable trend: that things coming out of Korea are actually good. Who would have thought that gochujang, gimbap, and ramyun, in addition to K-pop, could become common sights outside of Korea?

The popularity of K-anything does not alter the harsh conditions for the younger generation. However, it can make things a bit more bearable. The beer street in central Seoul, which was technically “discovered” by young people, used to be a forlorn press and printing area that boomed until the 1990s. Inspired by the changing status of Korean culture, young Koreans are beginning to look at where they live with renewed confidence. Those who believe that the success of K-pop idols actually worsens the sense of deprivation among young people might not agree with this view.

Gye-na’s relocation is part of her continuous effort to find a place where she can be happy, rather than moving to a worry-free zone.

Does Gye-na manage to escape it all eventually? In the film, Gye-na encounters a different set of problems after choosing to leave Korea. She teaches Korean and works as a cashier in a store, but her plan to secure a permanent visa in New Zealand goes awry. Gye-na is not free of difficulties; she simply faces a new set of challenges. The director, Jang Kun-jae, mentioned in a press interview that he did not want to idealize or romanticize a foreign country. Gye-na’s relocation is part of her continuous effort to find a place where she can be happy, rather than moving to a worry-free zone.

Because I Hate Korea may not be the most up-to-date depiction of the young generation in Korea, but it still portrays the youth transitioning from a self-contemptuous Hell Joseon to something worth fighting for—for themselves and for their future.