Issue 10
Korean Animation
By Alex J. PowellIllustration By Kristian Henson
If Saturday morning cartoons were a childhood staple for you, they may well have been your earliest exposure to art. Judging by what cinemagoers are flocking to these days, cartoon images have shaped the artistic tastes of a generation.
Today, virtually every big movie studio or media conglomerate is involved in producing animated films. Why? Ani-movies rake in big bucks without costing studios the huge salaries over-hyped actors demand. If they’re good, they can be catalogued and re-released years into the future. If they’re very good, they can entertain the entire family—and that’s where today’s media strategists see pure gold. If a family enjoys a movie together, children will remember the emotion into adulthood. Eventually, they will purchase both the movie and character merchandise for their own children. Thus, the cycle of cinematic consumer joy is perpetuated into the next generation.
Okay, that’s all big business. But what about other fascinating, overlooked animation? Some of the best classic animation from South Korea, for instance, takes huge liberties with character copyrights. We often hear about the perils of intellectual property and commercial copyright abuse, which eats into our rules-based Western economic ideals and diminishes corporate bottom lines. But let’s put this into perspective. Intellectual piracy is not nearly as devastating to capitalism as crippling poverty. To a significant extent, China, Taiwan and the Republic of Korea (South Korea) achieved economic stability through the utilization of piracy.
One of the best examples of an industry developed through piracy is South Korean animation. Spongebob Squarepants, The Simpsons, King of the Hill and Family Guy are all drawn and inked there. Animation gets outsourced to South Korea not only because labor is cheap but also because there is a ready-made industry of skilled workers—an industry originally built on piracy.
The success of the South Korean animation industry was not paved with international film blockbusters, and it most certainly does not brim with originality. To date, over 120 “Koreanimation” films have been released. Only a handful of these were ever shown in the West—usually because these films brazenly replicated copyrighted characters. It must be pointed out that it was not against the law in South Korea to make knock-offs back when many of the Koreanimation films were created—the country didn’t agree to World Trade Organization accords until the mid 1990s.
The onslaught of foreign influence has always been a challenge for the South Korean animation industry. How does a production house with only a few thousand dollars compete against a blockbuster Hollywood epic? Should they fight off the foreign influence or adapt it for their own ends?
Do you really cry tears of lost revenue if a struggling film producer changes Batman’s name, alters his outfit to a red suit and yellow tights and adds spaceships that look like they’re from Japan’s 1970s animation series Gatchaman? Heck, I know I don’t see theft. In fact, I celebrate such confusion. Koreanimation pioneers took what was there and adapted it. Just as Henry Ford took Karl Benz’s idea for a motorized vehicle or the Wright Brothers emulated bird flight, South Korea’s pioneer animators deserve recognition—even praise.
Shin Dong-hong* is widely considered the father of Korean animation.
He started out doing animation for television commercials in the 1950s. In 1963, he created a small educational film entitled I Am Water for the Armed Forces Korean Network (AFKN), a U.S. Military broadcaster. In August 1967, he released Korea’s first feature length animation Hong Gil-dong, based on a traditional Korean story. The film was an immediate success. Made on discarded cells salvaged from U.S. Airbase trash, the film sold an astounding 120,000 tickets in only six days of screening. Shin had to improvise at virtually every step of production, as there was no money or equipment readily available to facilitate such an ambitious project. His idea of turning traditional tales into movies continues to be emulated by Korean filmmakers to this day.
THE SECOND KOREAN NATIONAL HERO
Shin may be the father of Koreanimation, but Kim Cheong-gi can be considered the genre’s first master. Often mobbed when he goes out in public, Kim is revered in South Korea like a demigod. At the beginning of his career Kim, like many early Koreanimation producer/directors, was influenced by foreign themes and often reworked them in his films.
He gave South Koreans their greatest animated hero: Robot Taekwon V.
If you spend time in Seoul, you may notice larger-than-life statues of a peculiar blue robot with red devil horns dotting the landscape. That is Taekwon V. He crawls out of walls, stands in front of art galleries and museums and has a loyal following of collectors who will think nothing of forking over $100 for a newspaper clipping of an advert for a Taekwon V movie from the ‘70s. Just about every South Korean male between the ages of 32 and 48 can hum the film series’ theme song—such is the power of Taekwon V.
Koreanimation fans know that Majinga Zetto, an early ‘70s Japanese animation series that featured a giant robot with an arsenal of unique weapons, heavily influenced Kim. But the Taekwon V series is distinctly Korean. The name originated from the indigenous Korean martial art and national sport, Tae Kwon Do—a favorite theme for Kim in his early movies. Taekwon V’s helmet is based on the headgear of Admiral Yi Sun Shin, the iconic 16th century leader who defended Korean shores from Japanese invasion with iron clad warships.
ADOLESCENCE TO MATURITY
After struggling so long to gain acceptance outside of their homeland, Koreanimation films have found interest from an unexpected source: Japan.
Last April, the Seoul-based Meditation With a Pencil (MWP) studio sold its animated version of the Korean soap opera Sorry, I Love You (also known as Misa) to a Japanese distributor sight unseen. The unprecedented deal may have been spurred on by the phenomenon known as Hallyu, or “Korean fever.” Coined by Beijing journalists, the phrase describes the enormous popularity of Korean pop culture—and television dramas in particular—throughout Greater Asia. Hallyu catapulted Korean actors like Kwan Sang-woo to overseas stardom and has even been attributed to the spike in Japanese tourism to Korea.
Industry heavyweight Rough Draft Korea continues to land Western television animation contracts for shows like The Simpsons and George Lucas’ Star Wars: The Clone Wars. But MWP is creating new hope in a new market. By capitalizing on the Hallyu wave and closing the gap between popular Korean television drama exports and homegrown animation, the studio is pioneering a production method that could potentially bring Koreanimation to a global market.
Interestingly, MWP’s director, Mo Sang-jun is also the director of the Korean television drama Hello Francesca, which he has turned into an MWP animated release. Mo notes, “Until now, there have been very few animated films for adults in Korea.”
According to the Korea Culture & Contents Agency (KOCCA), a corporation under the Korean Ministry of Culture & Tourism, 10 Koreanimation feature films are slated for release in 2006 and 2007. Of these, none need copy American superheroes, England’s Thunderbirds or Japanese anime. There is a burgeoning sense of ownership and originality blooming in South Korea. Besides, even if animators wanted to knock off popular foreign images and ideas, it is no longer permitted.
Today, South Korea is the 10th biggest economy in the world. The infant has grown up and now plays by global rules.
*The last names have been put before first names, as is Korean custom.