The ability of Korean filmmakers to connect with an audience with stories and ideas that provoke widespread, and sometimes uncomfortable, discussion is perhaps the prime source of Korean cinema’s dynamism. The audience responds with passion and dedication. Film festivals are where the filmmakers and the audiences engage in lively interaction, spreading word of mouth and generating enthusiasm for good films.

Director Kim Ki-duk and actors Ahn Ji-hye, Choe Gwi-hwa, and Hwang Geon walk along the red carpet for the opening ceremony of the 21st Busan International Film Festival, held on October 6, 2016 in Haeundae, Busan.

Sometimes it’s the most unexpected, mundane circumstances that turn into the most enduring memories. For me, one of my strongest memories of the Busan International Film Festival is something that took place on Haeundae Beach in 2007.

Busan Then and Now
It was an outdoor Open Talk between two Korean actresses: Jeon Do-yeon, who had earlier in the year won the Best Actress award at Cannes for her performance in Lee Chang-dong’s “Secret Sunshine,” and Kang Soo-youn, who won the Best Actress award at the Venice Film Festival in 1987 in Im Kwon-taek’s “Surrogate Mother.” I had been very curious to hear this discussion between the two highest profile award winners in the history of Korean film acting, but I arrived at the beach late, and the crowd was already overflowing. After trying for several minutes to push my way into the crowd and catch a view of the actresses, I finally gave up, and simply listened to their conversation from the loudspeaker. I couldn’t see the stage at all, but I had a clear view of the faces of the audience sitting in the front row.
Soon I stopped minding that I couldn’t see the stage, because watching those faces was as interesting as seeing the stars themselves. Like a crowd gathered in front of a fireplace, their faces glowed with adoration, a love of cinema, and pride at what the actresses had accomplished. They were concentrating intently on every word, and they responded with warmth and enthusiasm.
You might say I was witnessing at that moment the energy that has powered BIFF to become the leading film festival in Asia. And more broadly, this sort of interest and passion among audiences has been a major factor in the Korean film industry’s success.
People sometimes talk about the economic factors that have contributed to Korean cinema’s explosive growth over the past two decades, from the deep pockets of Korea’s business conglomerates to the financial support provided by the government. But I think another key part of the equation is the strong film culture that has developed in Korea since the 1990s. “Film culture” is an abstract concept, but you can feel it around you if you live in Korea or spend time at its major film festivals. Film culture is about the knowledge and enthusiasm that ordinary people hold for cinema, and also about the way people express and talk about films.
The Busan International Film Festival in 2016 was considerably different from what it was back in 2007. For one thing, the actress Kang Soo-youn has now become director of the festival, standing at the center of controversy about the independence and future of the event. But just as it was back then, BIFF remains one of the key places to experience Korea’s film culture firsthand.

Ahmad Kiarostami, son of the late Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami, makes an acceptance speech on behalf of his father who was named the Asian Filmmaker of the Year at BIFF 2016. Abbas Kiarostami died this past July.

Dreams of Cinema
I could see that Nam Yeon-woo was nervous. The actor-turned-director was standing in the lobby of the Megabox theater, surrounded by friends and the cast of his directorial debut feature “Lost to Shame.” The first screening was about to take place, and after two years of preparation, shooting, editing, and postproduction, he would finally find out what audiences thought of his creation.
Although it was his debut, the director was not entirely new to this situation. In 2012 Nam had been the lead actor in “Fatal,” a film shot on an astonishingly low budget of 3 million won (about $2,800). That film, which also had its first screening in Busan, won the New Currents award for young Asian directors. A unique film with memorable characters, it had gone on to screen at many other festivals around the world, and win more awards. Later it opened in theaters in Korea, but competing for attention with Hollywood blockbusters and big-budget Korean commercial features, it didn’t sell many tickets.
“Lost to Shame” is about an actor who is cast in the role of a transgender character, and who believes himself to be very open-minded, but is later forced to confront his inner prejudices. It’s an unusual story with impressive characters, and so after assembling a team of actors he knew and taking on the lead role himself, Nam shot the film on a micro budget. Post-production was subsidized by BIFF through its Asian Cinema Fund.

Actress Kang Soo-youn, director of the BIFF 2016, greets Souleymane Cissé, the Mali filmmaker who was head juror of the New Currents section, and his wife and actress, Aminata Cissé, at the closing ceremony of the festival. At far left is BIFF chairman Kim Dong-ho.

As “Lost to Shame” screened for the first time before the audience in Busan, you could feel something electric in the air. You can tell when a film grabs an audience’s attention, and at the question and answer session with the director and cast afterward, many people expressed their enthusiasm with gushing praise. Also in the audience were programmers from other film festivals around the world, including Cannes. Later, many came up to Nam to personally offer encouraging words. Meanwhile back in the cinema lobby, a long line of fans waited to get autographs and snap photos with Nam and other members of the cast. For today at least, this little known actor-turned-director had become a star.
There are many young directors in Korea who dream of this kind of experience. Director Park Jung-bum, now considered a major independent director thanks to his award-winning films “The Journals of Musan” (2010) and “Alive” (2013), used to visit the Busan International Film Festival in his youth.

There, he developed a deep love of cinema, and began to dream of one day shooting his own film and presenting it to audiences in Busan. Hollywood is sometimes called a “city of dreams,” but in Korea, young filmmakers often realize their dreams in Busan, Jeonju, or Bucheon.
Indeed, Busan is not the only festival in Korea that stirs up a passion for cinema. The Jeonju International Film Festival, held in early May, is easily a match for Busan in terms of sold–out screenings and dedicated crowds. Despite its focus on non-mainstream and independent films, the festival draws hordes of viewers each year. (Jeonju’s famous cuisine makes a trip to the festival even more alluring.) As for the Bucheon International Fantastic Film Festival, or BiFan, this is where fans of genre cinema converge. Although the number of young Korean directors making low-budget genre films is not large, BiFan has helped to sustain this community by giving their works a place to meet with supportive viewers.

For filmmakers who often endure years of obscurity and hard work in order to make a film, dreams are important. Not only that, in this day and age, the way a film is introduced to the audience is crucial. The audiences at BIFF or in Jeonju are not ordinary viewers but people with a particularly avid interest in cinema. When they find a film they like, word of mouth starts to spread, and comments or short reviews appear online. A director’s reputation begins to take shape. Imagine instead that a filmmaker introduced a film directly through a theatrical release. In the ruthlessly competitive distribution environment where small films are at an extreme disadvantage, a film like “Lost to Shame” would simply disappear without attracting any attention. This is one reason why film festivals, and the film culture that supports them, are so important to filmmakers.

Cinema as Conversation
Meanwhile, alongside Haeundae Beach, a 10-minute walk from where Nam Yeon-woo was presenting his feature, another sort of event was taking place. The major distributor N.E.W. was holding a party for the distribution companies around the world which had bought the hit film “Train to Busan.” The story of a mysterious zombie virus that rages out of control on a KTX high-speed train, “Train to Busan” sold more than 11 million tickets in Korea to rank as the bestselling movie of the year. But perhaps even more remarkable was the unprecedented success the film enjoyed in foreign countries like Singapore, Australia, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and France. The mood at the party in Busan was buoyant — after all, many of the distributors in attendance had earned a lot of money from this film.

On the eve of BIFF every year, the BIFF Square in Nampo-dong, Busan, is crowded with film fans enjoying the festivities. The photo shows the crowd gathered on October 1, 2014 for the 19th BIFF pre-opening events.

The director, Yeon Sang-ho, is no stranger to the Busan International Film Festival. His debut feature, a low-budget animated film about school bullying, titled “The King of Pigs,” won three awards at BIFF in 2011 and went on to screen at the Director’s Fortnight section in Cannes the following year. His second animated feature, the dark philosophical “The Fake,” was one of the most talked-about films at the 2012 BIFF. Although his style in these early films is far from mainstream, N.E.W. believed in his talent and financed the big-budget “Train to Busan,” despite the industry superstition that zombie movies never work in Korea. The gamble paid off more handsomely than anyone could have predicted.
Ironically, “Train to Busan” was not included in BIFF’s program this year. This was due to a partial boycott by filmmakers vowing to defend the festival’s independence from political pressure. A two-year-old conflict with the City of Busan over the screening of the controversial ary “Diving Bell: The Truth Shall Not Sink with Sewol” in 2014 led to the ouster of former festival director Lee Yong-kwan. Over the past year in particular, BIFF’s status as a home for controversial, outspoken, and often uncomfortable films has been a source of heated debate.
Just as a film festival represents an ideal space for filmmakers to reach a supportive audience, it is also the best place for people to discuss the various issues raised by socially conscious films. This too is an element of the film culture — a widespread, continually evolving conversation that takes place between filmmakers, viewers, critics, and cultural commentators over important issues of our time.
Close to a decade ago, I got to interview the successful Hong Kong director Peter Ho-sun Chan (“The Warlords,” “Comrades: Almost a Love Story”). During the interview, he admitted that he was highly envious of Korea’s film audience. “The audience in Korea is very smart,” he said. “They have great taste, and they support innovative, well-made films.”

In the years since, the Korean audience has grown more diverse, with older viewers now visiting the theater more often than ever before. And it’s clear that through big hits like “Train to Busan,” and also through smaller independent works like “Lost to Shame,” film plays a prominent role in the country’s cultural conversations. This is not true of every country, particularly those in which Hollywood films dominate and local films occupy a very small slice of the market.

Director Lee Joon-ik and the stars of his movie “The Throne” (aka “Sado”) greet the audience at an outdoor event for the 20th BIFF, held on October 1–10, 2015.

A Personal Story
When I first moved to Korea in 1997, I knew next to nothing about Korean cinema. Just a few weeks after my arrival, I attended the 2nd Busan International Film Festival and was overwhelmed and thrilled by the audience’s enthusiasm. Since then I have attended every edition of the festival, and gone on to build a career writing and teaching about Korean cinema. Sometimes people ask me which film inspired me to focus on Korean cinema. But the truth is, what hooked me first was the film culture I experienced in Busan, and the lively conversations about film that took place all around me rather than any one film in particular.
In a similar way, people may wonder how contemporary Korean cinema has become so dynamic, but I think we need to look beyond the films and filmmakers. Underneath it all is Korea’s strong film culture. In most circumstances, a vibrant film culture will ultimately produce quality local films. This is why the film culture is important, and why it needs to be defended.