Korea is aging rapidly, with those aged 65 and older making up 19.2% of the population, marking the country’s entry into a super-aged society. Senior citizens, elderly people, or simply grannies and grandpas—they now form a significant portion of the population. Yet, films portraying old age remain few and far between.

There is a saying that age is just a number, meaning one should live life to the fullest without being constrained by it. However motivating and sweet this may sound, age is not just a number. While aging brings wisdom, experience, insights, and knowledge, it also comes with challenges such as illness, poverty, family responsibilities, and declining physical and cognitive abilities. Particularly in this day and age, when youth is revered, commodified, and idealized, being old can feel like more than just a challenge—it can be profoundly disabling. Cher once remarked in a TV interview that getting old “sucks.”

The following Korean films delve deeply into the experience of aging, offering conclusions that are neither simply celebratory nor wholly pessimistic about the twilight years of life.

Miss Granny (2014)

Probably it is the highest-grossing Korean film centered on a granny’s story, drawing 8.6 million viewers at the box office. At the heart of the film is Mal-sun, a sharp-tongued and strong-willed woman in her 70s. Its commercial success lies in its universal appeal—it’s a story about second chances that not only old people but also anyone can relate to.

Mal-sun, widowed at a young age, raised her only son on her own, eventually seeing him become a university professor. After years of hardship, she turned into an old lady foul-mouthed, inconsiderate, and temperamental, still clinging to the role of sole provider and protector of her son. Mal-sun is a sort of “madame Scourge.” However, her life takes a dramatic turn when she stumbles into a mysterious photo studio, where the photographer miraculously takes 50 years off her age, giving her the opportunity to pursue her old dream of becoming a singer.

No life is without regrets. There are always disappointments in the paths we’ve chosen and wistful longing for the ones left unexplored. Miss Granny taps into this universal emotion, offering viewers, regardless of their age, a vicarious glimpse of what it feels like to get a second chance. However, in reality, what most of us can only hope for is an imperfect “Plan B,” rather than the perfect second chance to have a go at unfulfilled dreams.

Late Blossom (2011)

The English title can be misleading, as it suggests a sense of fruition or fulfillment that comes in the later stages of life. In fact, nothing hopeful, reassuring, or life-affirming happens in the film. The one certainty looming over the four main characters is the end of their lives. The literal translation of the original Korean title is “I Love Thee,” an old-fashioned and restrained way of expressing “I love you.”

Played by seasoned and respected actors, the four characters plow through their remaining days, presenting a moving portrayal of old age. Even the simple act of completing their daily routines seems sacred—perhaps because they are acutely aware of their nearing end.

Mr. Jang, who still works as an attendant at a neighborhood parking lot, also cares for his Alzheimer’s-stricken wife. After a doctor’s diagnosis that his wife may not have much time left, Mr. Jang organizes a small gathering with their children and grandchildren. He gently tells his unwitting wife that “these are all your children.” In response, she bows and thanks them for coming, as though they were strangers.

Mr. Kim begins his day delivering milk, lucky enough to still have the health to drive his scooter for his rounds. When he finds himself growing fond of an elderly woman who collects paper boxes to sell to a recycler, he chooses to tell her “I love thee” instead of “I love you.” He feels that saying “I love you” to her would be disrespectful to his late wife.

Their lives continue against the relentless ticking of the clock, sustained by their unnoticed yet tremendous efforts to walk through life’s final missions gracefully, without flinching.

Eungyo (2012)

Eun-gyo is a young girl and works as a part-time cleaner for a once renowned old poet. In a manner reminiscent of Thomas Mann’s Death in Venice, Eun-gyo stirs something within the old poet—desires, inspiration, or perhaps a renewed appetite for life. While it is jarring to see a teenage girl represented as an object of desire, the film addresses the prickly subject of sexuality and aging in Korean society.

However, Eungyo is also a depiction of the slow and painful process of fading into irrelevance. The old poet is forced to witness his young pupil and apprentice achieve his big break, as the spotlight of the literary world shifts to the younger man. He becomes a mere bystander, powerless as his student seduces the girl in his own study. Once his fame and desires are taken away and acted upon by others, he is left to confront his diminished role in life.

Poetry (2010)

The main character of the film, Mi-ja, is an elderly woman burdened with the responsibility of caring for her teenage grandson. Yet, she does not complain about having to earn extra money by working as a caregiver for an immobile old man, supplementing her meager state pension just to make ends meet. Despite her struggles, she enrolls in a free poetry class, hoping to experience poetic inspiration that will help her see the beauty in her life.

However, her fragile existence is shattered when her grandson becomes involved in a despicable incident, dragging her into its devastating aftermath. Coupled with her own worsening health, this event deals a heavy blow to her efforts to discover anything beautiful in her life.

The film’s director, Lee Chang-dong, a celebrated filmmaker and winner of numerous international awards, masterfully encapsulates Mi-ja’s noble pursuit of meaning in adversity. This is evident in an early scene: after being referred to a specialist doctor for Alzheimer’s, Mi-ja steps into the hospital courtyard. As she slowly turns to her right, she sees a woman in devastating shock standing beside an ambulance, while mourners from the hospital’s funeral parlor come into view. Mi-ja stands between the woman—whose presence foreshadows the impact on her grandson—and the shadow of death lurking nearby.

This scene is a stunning composition by Lee Chang-dong, visualizing Mi-ja’s final, quiet struggle to uncover beauty amid the burdens of her life. The film poignantly explores a moment that many of us may eventually face: the need to reflect on our lives and search for meaning.