MoviesPeter ObradovicSeptember 26, 2021Korean Horror Movies, Horror, Movies, Guide, Cinema

The Sabukaru Guide to Korean Horror Movies

MoviesPeter ObradovicSeptember 26, 2021Korean Horror Movies, Horror, Movies, Guide, Cinema

Following up our recent guide to Japanese horror cinema, where we discuss in depth a slew of movies which have helped cement the nation’s efforts as a filmic powerhouse, we’ve decided to further our proclamation of the horror genre by detailing another 15 or so films that have sent shivers down our spines and pushed asian cinema to the extreme.

We are of course talking about the eclectic world of Korean horror cinema.

While recently managing to excel both creatively and profitably, due in-part to the explosion of K-horror films of the late 90s to the present [which many attribute to the advent of the Whispering Corridors film series in 1998] Korean horror cinema, in fact, traces its roots much earlier, most notably during the nation’s heyday era between 1955-1979, when Korean cinema flourished due to the emergence of certain tax exemption measures and an overall increase in movie goers. With such notable works as Lee Yong-min’s supernatural classic, A Devilish Murder [1965], and Kim Ki-young’s pioneering domestic thriller, The Housemaid [1960] - a film which acclaimed Korean filmmaker, Bong Joon-ho cites as a major influence on his multi-Oscar award winning, critical darling, Parasite - there proved an appetite for horror in the Korean mainstream and a creative surge within the industry to back it up. Yet, while boasting a deep well of filmic history, and an ongoing legacy which it continues to bolster with its unwavering display of pertinent and chiefly terrifying storytelling, Korean horror cinema still remains a largely new-found holy grail for international film lovers and connoisseurus of the latest cinematic terror. Thus, making this list a just guide for all looking to delve into the blood-curdling gems of the nations’ efforts in horror cinema.

From left to right: Kim Jin-kyu and Lee Eun-shim in The Housemaid

Whether through violent excess or supernatural mysteries, Korean horror cinema tends to explore societal notions of sex, gender and class inequality through poignant and extreme storytelling [simply see the aforementioned Parasite to discern the tension of the class system in suburban Seoul]. Yet, one of the more consistently recurring themes of Korean horror cinema, or Korean cinema in general, is that of revenge: Revenge of a disgruntled housemaid, a mistreated housewife, a vengeful ghost, or that of a grieving police detective. Vengeance plays a key role in the resonant nature of Korean horror.

Themes of uncontrolled rage spurred on by a want for equality, justice and deserved retribution can be found scattered throughout Korean horror cinema. Pushing you to empathise fully with a diverse, yet equally restless array of protagonists - the beaten, the broken, the belittled - that one day, after their disenfranchisement hits boiling point, commit violent or psychological atrocities upon their oppressors; achieving justice through extremes and finding solace in vengeance.

Additionally, Korean horror cinema is known for its focus on the severe anguish and pain of its characters, possessing a filmic repertoire that showcases the extremities of human suffering, and thereby making the subgenre somewhat of a hard watch for viewers unaccustomed to blood and guts, taboo and torment; while supplementing any and all vengeful climaxes.

However, Korean horror is not all gloom and doom; sporting its fair share of monster and alien movies which, while maintaining a semblance of contemporary relevance, also manage to achieve a level of wit and meta self-awareness that arguably transcends the overall scope of horror cinema. Take Bong’s definitive monster movie, The Host, for example; a film which is unquestionable in its exploration of environmentalism, yet realises the serious nature of its subject matter and thus, establishes an overtly symbolic monster and a darkly comedic sensibility as to avoid overstimulating its audience with the reality of its prophetic notions of world pollution.

Korean horror cinema is as provenly intellectual as it is gnarly; presenting tales that depict resonant notions of societal inconsistency and human misjudgement, while promoting shock and awe concurrently.

Thereby, as per our love of Korean horror cinema, we submit to you 15 of our favourite Korean horror movies. If not only to give due praise to the nation’s exemplary cinematic talent but also to explore aspects of cinema otherwise left to the wayside by many western institutions; curating some of the best, some of the underappreciated and some of the most important additions in a subgenre of horror cinema that we adore so much.

Yet, before we begin, let it be known that in order to properly showcase the burgeoning talent on display in the space of Korean horror cinema, this list is bound by a single rule: only ONE film per director. This is to ensure that we sufficiently acknowledge the diverse array of exceptional filmmakers coming out of Korea, and to prevent us from oversaturating the list with pictures from Bong Joon-ho or Park Chan-wook. This is the Sabukaru guide to Korean horror movies.

Bedevilled [2010]

A revenge thriller of the utmost melancholy, Bedevilled is the tale of two women estranged by distance and a shared traumatic past on the desolate Southern island of Mudo. Following Hae-won [Ji Sung-won], an unwavering worker in a Seoul bank, who, after suffering a professional mishap and a request to give witness to a recent sexual assault claim [which we see first-hand in the film’s opening scene], travels to her childhood home as to get away from the stresses of inner city life.

Greeted by her childhood friend, Bok-nam [played ferociously by Seo Young-hee] and her daughter Yeon-hee [Lee Ji-eun], Hae-won is reintroduced to the island and the stale, problematic and menacing lifestyles of its inhabitants. Welcomed by an assortment of old women, as well as a Bok-nam’s husband, Man-jong and his lustful brother - both whom seem embittered by the arrival of the fair-skinned, Hae-won - the film makes it duly apparent that the nature of the island is one of malicious conservatism and patriarchal concern.

It is slowly revealed that Bok-nam is nought but a slave for the people of the island. She is punished for seemingly nothing, belittled by her husband’s mother, and the rest of the elderly, for being weak, ungrateful and lazy; when in fact, Bok-nam appears to be the only inhabitant working on the island. The old women whine and moan, proclaiming how important it is to have a man around to do the heavy work, and yet, the men simply do nothing. They lounge around, deadpanned and apathetic to the ongoing efforts of Bok-nam and the other women; chewing incessantly on a peculiar green herb which leaves them lethargic and detached.

As the film progresses, tensions rise, and it is further revealed the true extent of the Bok-nam’s enslavement until finally, due to a tragic “accident”, Bok-nam takes it upon herself to rid the island of its inhabitants in a glorious display of violent justice.

A hard watch for sure, yet one that is poignant and chiefly resonant in terms of its portrayal of domestic abuse and what it means to be a silent bystander. If you’re looking for extreme violence under the pretence of deserved comeuppance, Bedevilled is the movie for you.

Phone [2002]

Moving on to something a little spookier now with Ahn Byeong-ki’s supremely popular supernatural tech-based thriller, Phone.

Famed as one of the highest grossing horror films in Korea, Phone depicts a tale of murder, mystery and strife as we follow journalist Ji-won [Ha Ji-won], who, after writing a series of articles exposing an extensive pedophilia scandal, becomes subject to a spree of threatening phone calls from a seemingly omniscient presence. Looking to her friend, Ho-jung [Kim Yoo-mi] and her friend’s husband, Chang-hoon [Choi Woo-jae], for refuge, Ji-won moves into their empty house in Bang Bae, only to be plagued by increasingly terrifying frights; a ghostly girl playing the piano at night, and a sink clogged up with hair to name a few.

After tracing her stalker’s number, Ji-won discovers that two of its previous owners have mysteriously died in unusual circumstances. She investigates further and surmises that the number once belonged to a school girl named Jin-hee [Choi Ji-yeon], who has inexplicably vanished prior to the events of the film. Ji-won delves deep into the background of this Jin-hee and inadvertently reveals a scandal of the utmost perversion.

Meanwhile, during one of Ji-won’s incessant phone calls, Ho-jung’s daughter, Young-ju [Eun Seo-woo], takes the phone and becomes subject to an unintelligible voice that sends her into frantic torment. She begins to act oddly, discussing the prospect of love with Ji-won and explaining that while she loves her father, her feelings towards her mother are tentative. Gradually, Young-ju becomes possessed and starts to elicit jealous feelings towards her mother, leading to a dramatic third act in the confines of the Bang Bae house. Culminating in a complex puzzle of vengeance and obsession, Ji-won soon uncovers an obscure truth about the seemingly happily married couple and the source behind their daughter’s possession.

Written and directed by Ahn, with an additional screenplay credit from Lee Yu-jin, Phone is a wonderfully smart and surprisingly tricky piece of Korean horror cinema. While somewhat cliché in terms of its spooks and thrills, Phone exceeds at its subversive storytelling; exploring many avenues of a largely generic subject matter - possession via technology - yet succeeding in keeping the climax unexpected and relatively unnerving. Taking inspiration from many J-horror films of the late 90s [i.e. Ring, The Grudge etc.], with its use of long black-haired girls as its main source of terror, the film manages to stay resolute in its originality; proving it’s authenticity through a twisted plot, a labyrinthian resolution, and great acting to boot, particularly in the case of Eun, who plays up her fictional possession with such electrifying intensity.

I Saw the Devil [2010]

I Saw the Devil is the story of trained secret agent, Kim Soo-hyun [Lee Byung-hun] who ventures on a journey of violent revenge after his pregnant fiancé is brutally murdered by disgruntled academy bus driver and serial killer, Jang Kyung-chul [Choi Min-sik].

After carving and decapitating Soo-hyun’s beloved in grisly, sadistic fashion, Kyung-chul scatters her remains in a nearby stream, there to be found by local investigators and Soo-hyun himself at the beginning of the film. After an initial period of grievance, Soo-hyun proceeds to take some time off work; time which he needs to prepare for his vengeful endeavour. He investigates local sex offenders, crushing the balls of a recent suspect and violently checking the rest off his list so as to correctly deduce his fiance’s killer.

After a few violent excursions with some lesser offenders, Soo-hynn soon discovers his fiancé’s engagement ring in the confines of Kyung-chul’s lair. Hot on his trail, our hero is able to track down the killer just as he’s about to continue his murderous spree.

Following an electrifying action set-piece, Soo-hyun is able to take the murderer down and save his helpless victim. Yet, it doesn’t end there as instead of killing Kyung-chul, or arresting him, Soo-hyun proceeds to shove a GPS tracker down his throat and release him, leaving Kyung-chul to wake beaten, broken and bemused as to his situation.

The ultimate revenge movie, I Saw the Devil takes the concept of violent justice and accentuates it to the tenth degree as Soo-hyun repeatedly captures and releases his fiancé's murderer, injuring him a little more each time. A tense and action-heavy thriller, which largely succeeds at deconstructing the serial killer subgenre of film, I Saw the Devil works to blur the line between hero and villain, as Soo-hyun ventures further into sadism, pushing the killer into the space of the victim. Kyung-chul is an inverted depiction of the final girl from traditional slasher films [i.e. Halloween or Scream], as is Soo-hyun as the film’s monster. The film, smartly and in violent excess, explores, succinctly, the primordial nature of sadism, murder and rage, as Soo-hyun battles the vengeful monster within himself, while subduing the monster, Kyung-chul, concurrently.

Directed by Kim Jee-woon and written by Park Hoon-jung, I Saw the Devil is truly a significant addition to the overall repertoire of Korean horror cinema; subverting horror troupes, while dissecting the anatomy of the revenge thriller simultaneously. Moreover, while Kim’s A Tale of Two Sisters may be the more profitable of his horror efforts, we believe I Saw the Devil to be his true masterpiece.

The Odd Family: Zombie on Sale [2019]

Moving on to something much more light-hearted, the wonderfully jovial zombie comedy, The Odd Family: Zombie on Sale. Written and directed by Lee Min-jae, with an additional writing credit from Jung Seo-in, Zombie on Sale is the exceedingly endearing tale of a family that essentially adopts a zombie, and the impact that he proceeds to have on them and their peaceful country village.

Jung Ga-Ram in The Odd Family: Zombie on Sale

Exploring the subject of family from the offset of a burgeoning zombie outbreak, the film begins with the soon-to-be adopted zombie, whom the Park family appropriately name, Jjong-bi [Jung Ga-Ram], biting their elderly father, Man-Deok [Park In-Hwan] as per his monstrous tendencies. Yet, instead of turning into a zombie himself, Man-Deok is shown to de-age rapidly; sporting a fresh head of hair, a lust for life, and a strong urine stream to boot. Then, after working out that his newfound youth is per the bite from Jjong-bi, the family set out to sell his bites to any wanting buyers and use the money to save their rundown gas station. This works for a time, and Man-Deok and his elderly friends strut around the village, boasting their newfangled youth. Yet, after Man-Deok suddenly upturns and travels to Hawaii with the money made from the bites, the remaining siblings must work to come together despite their father’s absence.

Following each and every family member in wonderfully raucous fashion, we learn, through intermittently poignant storytelling, about their wants and desires, their conflicts and regrets, their feelings towards each other and that of themselves in this intricate familial comedy. We are witness to a blooming love story between Hae-Gul [Lee Soo-Kyung], the youngest sibling and Jjong-bi. The older brothers, Joon-Gul [Jung Jae-Young] and Min-Gul [Kim Nam-Gil] squabble and fight to ensure control over the family, yet the reins lie overtly with the former’s wife and soon-to-be mother of his child, Nam-Joo [Uhm Ji-Won]. The drama continues to unfold in hilarious and chiefly charming ways, and just as things start to look up for the Park family, the zombie apocalypse occurs; brought about by the very bites they’ve sold to their local community.

From left to right: Lee Soo-Kyung and Jung Ga-Ram in The Odd Family: Zombie on Sale

Thus, instigating a climactic and suitably erratic, explosive third act, as the remaining Park family fight against the oncoming hordes of flesh-eating zombies. It’s super fun, tremendously entertaining and succeeds in divulging the subtleties of familial angst amidst a violent zombie outbreak. Taking notes from such pioneering zom-coms as Edgar Wright’s Shaun of the Dead, Ruben Fleischer’s Zombieland or Shinichiro Ueda’s recent, One Cut of the Dead, Lee’s Zombie on Sale is a great watch for zombie movie connoisseurs as well as those simply looking for some irreverent fun sprinkled with a pinch of poignancy.

The Piper [2015]

Famed for its unnerving atmosphere, a slew of propulsive performances and a penchant for intricate historical storytelling, Kim Gwang-tae’s The Piper, is an understated gem of brooding mystery and narrative originality.

Set sometime in the 1950s after the Korean war, the film explores notions of isolation, coercion and the consequences of violence to a terrorising extent. Depicting the tale of travelling piper, Woo-ryong [Ryu Seung-ryong], and his sick young son, Young-nam [Goo Seung-hyun], who, while on their way to Seoul to meet with an American doctor, fall in with a seemingly peaceful and innocuous remote village. After showing the village chieftain [Lee Sung-min] a note from the American doctor which the pair intend to meet, the chieftain allows the Woo-ryong and his son sanctuary at the village, under one condition; that they do not tell the rest of the village that the war has ended.

Later, Woo-ryong learns that the village is plagued by massive rat infestation; kids are shown with slightly chewed ears, cats are eaten alive and the village inhabitants have all but run out of ideas as to how to get rid of them. Then, as per the film’s inspiration - the old German legend of the Pied Piper of Hamelin - the Piper prepares a method to rid the village of its rat problem and hopefully gain the affection of the beautiful village shaman, Mi-sook [Chun Woo-hee].

Chun Woo-hee and Ryu Seung-ryong in The Piper

Woo-ryong’s plan inevitably works and the village shouts their praise to the piper and his son, raising a banquet in celebration of their courageous feat. All seems well and the piper plays and dances, stumbling around on his wounded leg with his son at his side and the village in revelry. Yet, as the film proceeds, we are slowly revealed the true reason behind the initial infestation; leaving the piper to question the very nature of the once seemingly benevolent people.

Suspicions muster, relationships are formed and Woo-ryung begs Mi-sook to come with him to Seoul; to escape the isolated village and live with him and Young-nam. Yet, as the chieftain struggles to keep his village under his control, things spiral accordingly into paranoia and violent excess; leaving the piper to enact a final show of musical vengeance.

From left to right: Goo Seung-hyun and Ryu Seung-ryong in The Piper

Bar a few dodgy special effects, namely the hundreds of rats that scurry around like a river of CGI mud, The Piper is a little known, yet worthwhile watch for those into the seminal revenge thrillers of Korean horror cinema. Boasting a chiefly allegorical and historical political resonance that ventures justly into the subversive, Kim’s dark, period horror proves in spades the empathetic mastery of this cinematic subgenre; providing adequate scares, equally heartwarming and sinister performances, and a serving of brutal gore to boot.

The Housemaid [1960]

Lauded as one of the greatest Korean films to ever grace the silver screen, Kim Ki-young’s The Housemaid is the tale of composer Dong-sik Kim [Kim Jin-kyu], who hires a young housemaid to help out at his middle-class abode.

After exposing one of his students for sending him a love letter during class, Dong-sik invites his other students to take piano lessons at his house, so as to earn an extra bit of income on the side. Then, when one of his students, during a piano lesson, hears him discussing the prospect of hiring a housemaid to help his wife [Ju Jeung-ryu], she suggests her friend and fellow worker, Myung-sook [Lee Eun-shim]. Seemingly content with the referral, Dong-sik hires Myung-sook with reckless abandon, inviting her to stay in his newly bought two-story house with his wife and two children. Yet, when Myung-sook begins to act strangely - smoking inside, picking rats up with her bare hands and ogling at Dong-sik - the narrative journeys down a much more sinister route, as the housemaid uses her feminine allure to seduce and entrap the stern composer.

While not only being a huge influence on the esteemed Korean filmmaker, Bong Joon-ho [see our introduction], The Housemaid is also celebrated by master of cinema, Martin Scorsese, for its “bold expressionism, its sense of the potential danger in all human interaction and its intense and passionately realised sense of claustrophobia”.

A seminal watch for all who are passionate about Korean film history, a must-see for connoisseurs of world cinema and an intriguing, largely erotic and suffocating horror movie laced with notions of class inequality and the burdens weighed upon women in a society governed by men.

With a recent remake from acclaimed Korean director, Im Sang-soo, which itself was nominated for the 2010 Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival, The Housemaid is one cinematic masterpiece you cannot afford to miss. If you won’t take our word for it, take Scorsese’s.

Memories of Murder [2003]

Yes, we’ve already mentioned Bong Joon-ho in this list, and no this is not his seminal monster movie, The Host, as we’ve instead opted to go for arguably his most prestigious effort in film [bar perhaps the monumental Parasite], his incredible and duly influential crime thriller, Memories of Murder.

Although not explicitly a “horror” film, Bong’s true to life crime story depicts some of the most harrowing scenes ever put to the silver screen. Depicting the true story of the Hwaseong serial murders - a spree of killings in South Korea that occurred during the late 80s to early 90s - Memories of Murder tells the story of the intitial investigation into the murders, and the dark, unexplained ambiguity of the only recently closed case.

Following local detective, Park Doo-man [Song Kang-ho] as he ventures, clumsily, to identify the culprit behind the rape and subsequent killings of two women, whose bodies are found in a nearby ditch, the film endeavours to explore the nature of uncertainty in a murder most foul. Unable to attain a concrete witness to the crime, Doo-man is shown to be an occasionally corrupt detective; beating and unjustly interrogating a mentality handicapped local boy, causing havoc in his local restaurants and drinking on the job. Yet, due in part to the arrival of Seo Tae-yoon [Kim Sang-kyung], a detective from Seoul who volunteers to take part in the case, and the spree’s increasing body count, Doo-man appropriately raises his game and begins to embrace the investigation to a passionate extent.

From left to right: Kim Roi-ha, Song Jae-ho, Song Kang-ho and Kim Sang-kyung in Memories of Murder

While supremely intrgiuing and surprisingly funny in contrast to its dark, historical subject matter, Memories of Murder also proves itself a worthy contender as one of the scariest and chiefly stressful crime movies we’ve ever seen. The overriding horror of the story, in-line with David Fincher’s monumental crime drama, Zodiac, is that the culprit is never found; leaving the resolution, irresolute and therefore, uncertain and utterly terrifying.

Bong’s Memories of Murder is lauded as perhaps the greatest Korean film to date and to many, one of the finest films ever made. Kim Hyung-koo’s cinematography is immaculate, the film’s pacing is slow and unnerving, its characters are flawed, yet develop in exceedingly endearing and just ways.

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Based on the 1996 play by Kim Kwang-rim and co-written by Shim Sung-bo, Memories of Murder is an astonishing piece of work and one that everyone should endeavour to seek out. It is a finely-tuned and tensely-crafted crime masterpiece with elements of horror that largely eclipse many categorical efforts within the genre, and a final shot which will leave you reeling.

Suddenly at Midnight [1981]

A cult, erotic thriller, recently restored by Mondo Macabro in 2017, Suddenly at Midnight [otherwise known as Suddenly in the Dark or Suddenly in Dark Night], is the tale of a wife who comes to suspect that her husband is having an affair with their young housekeeper.

When Kang Yu-jin [Yoon Il-bong], a wealthy biology professor, takes in the daughter of a recently deceased shaman, to be his new housemaid, him and his wife, Seon-hee [Kim Young-ae] begin by welcoming the stranger, pitying her recent loss and revelling in the newfound help. Yet, after suffering nightmares about a mysterious wooden doll belonging to the housemaid, Seon-hee’s idyllic middle-class lifestyle is upturned as she becomes increasingly paranoid that the housemaid is trying to kill her and usurp her household.

A psychedelic and nightmarish film which echoes the flamboyant splendour of Nobuhiko Obayashi’s Hausu and the brooding paranoia of Kim Ki-young’s The Housemaid, Suddenly at Midnight is a wholly inventive and vibrant addition to the economically informed class studies of Korean cinema. Displaying a ferocious depiction of sexual jealousy fused with a burgeoning homoeroticsm, Ko Young-nam’s masterful picture, written by Yoon Sam-yook, is a marvel of visual tenacity and exceptional in its approach to horror. While lesser known than the majority of this list [and little known outside of Korea in general], Suddenly at Midnight, is famed as a classic work of Korean horror cinema, cited by American film critic, Darcy Paquet, as “a mysterious psychological study [...] that beguiles the viewer right up to its bizarre closing image”.

Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum [2018]

Time for some all-out jump scares as we venture into the Jung Bum-shik’s recent venture into the found-footage subgenre of horror, with the campy, overtly gen-z skewed Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum.

The film depicts a team of young video streamers who set out to explore the haunted confines of real-life haunted asylum, the abandoned Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital - a recently demolished building in the heart of South Korea.Infamous for the sinister rumours that surround the asylum, Gonjiam is alleged as once having a sadistic director who would torture and eventually kill all of its inhabitants until finally going missing herself. Gathered by its infamy and an intent to film and gage the apparent haunting of Gonjiam, the film’s characters are brought together by Ha-Joon [Wi Ha-joon], owner of of YouTube channel “Horror Times”, who, spurred on by the recent disappearance of two boys when exploring the asylum, attempts to search and stream the findings. Yet, after things go awry and his team begins to witness hauntings unfathomable in horror, the characters must in-turn venture to escape the one place that they so willingly entered.

Albeit a rather cliche and largely unoriginal inclusion in this list of Korean horror, Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum is an unexpectedly slow and impressively tense cinematic effort, especially since it arrives so late after the peak of the found-footage genre [which essentially found its footing over 20 years ago with Eduardo Sánchez and Daniel Myrick’s The Blair Witch Project]. With abject scares and a slew of disturbing, chiefly terrifying imagery that’ll make even the most seasoned horror connoisseurs grip the sides of their seats, Jung’s Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum is a recent gem of Korean horror cinema; and, since becoming the third most-watched horror film in South Korea after Kim Jee-woon’s A Tale of Two Sisters and Ahn Byeong-ki’s Phone, it’s one we’re proud to include on this list.

Spider Forest [2004]

A unique and somewhat perplexing horror drama, Spider Forest is strewn with mystery and propelled by mania. Depicting a recently widowed TV producer, Kang Min [Kam Woo-sung] who, after waking up alone and stranded in a dark forest, is lured towards a seemingly abandoned cabin, where he discovers a man brutally hacked to death, and his girlfriend, equally disfigured, and murmuring something about “spiders”.

Seeing the killer rushing off into the forest, Min grabs a sickle and follows suit, chasing the mysterious assailant through the shadowy confines of the Spider Forest. After failing to catch the assumed killer, Min is hit by an oncoming SUV, knocking him unconscious until he wakes at a nearby hospital 14 days later. Pressed by his police detective friend to give his account of the murderous instances, Min struggles to remember the actions that brought him to witness the bizarre events, sending the film into a flurry of blurred memories and dreamlike hallucination.

While relatively unknown outside of Korea, Il-gon Song’s Spider Forest is an intriguing and smart horror effort that transposes quick frights for slow, disturbing delights and a penchant for obscurity. Taking notes from the European Arthouse mode, Song purposely credits the film’s ambiguity as to inform the viewer’s agency; to allow the audience to piece together the web of clues and come to their own interpretation of events.

A low budget, yet high-brow piece of Korean horror cinema, the film portrays aspects of mythology and enigma to the highest degree; allowing the viewer to think for themselves in an industry otherwise saturated with resolution and lucidity.

R-Point [2004]

Set in 1972 during the height of the Vietnam War, R-Point is the tale of a platoon of South Korean soldiers who are sent on a mission to seek out and rescue a missing, and presumed dead, squad at the titular R-Point. After receiving a strange transmission from the squad, the superior at Nha-Trang headquarters proceeds to enlist the mentally scarred, Lieutenant Choi Tae [Kam Woo-sung], to lead a group of reluctant soldiers to R-Point - an area of land in Vietnam once controlled by French military - in search of the missing platoon. Yet, when they arrive at the mysterious Romeo point [R-Point], their plans are scuppered by an elusive and chiefly violent supernatural force, which proceeds to haunt the soldiers in disturbing and deranged ways.

After arriving at R-Point, it soon becomes clear that something is awry with the place as members of the team go missing, many of them see hallucinations and, after receiving a call from HQ, it is revealed that the team is, inexplicably, one member too many. In a frantic display of leadership, Lieutenant Choi must learn to decipher the source of the ghostly apparitions and fight the invading supernatural entity as well as the growing madness amidst his troupe. With simmering mania and burgeoning horror to boot, this is one underrated Korean gem that deserves its due recognition as an essential piece within its subgenre.

Written and directed by Kong Soo-chang, R-Point is a relatively unknown wartime horror film which captures the comradery of such cinematic efforts as Niel Marshall's Dog Soldiers or the burgeoning mania of Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now; translating these aspects succinctly onto a low-budget Korean horror canvas. While not entirely played effectively, by in large due to a troupe of American soldiers, whose leader acts as if he’s in a B movie from the 80s, the film succeeds in its brooding tension, its alluring cinematography and its wonderfully diverse ensemble of central characters.

With a tricky plot that’ll leave viewers pondering the minutiae of the piece, R-Point is a woefully underrepresented cinematic treat, and one of our favourite Korean horror films to date.

Thirst [2009]

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Apologies to fans of Park Chan-wook’s The Vengeance Trilogy [a collection of films consisting of Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Oldboy and Lady Vengeance] as instead of shouting praise for the director’s incredible array of Korean revenge thrillers, we’ve instead decided to go for one of his more horror-centric efforts, the erotic and blood-curdling, Thirst.

Following Catholic priest Sang-hyun [Song Kang-ho], who volunteers at a hospital, offering spiritual guidance to its patients, and who later offers his person in an experiment to find a vaccine for the deadly Emmanuel Virus [EV], Thirst is the epitome of Park’s cinematic tendencies: offering up a sexualised thriller of the utmost horror and narrative maturity.

Recovering quickly from the vaccine shot, Sang-hyun seems to be the answer to the terrible disease. Yet, after rapidly relapsing into illness, it is revealed that his recovery is the result of something more supernatural; that Sang-hyun has inadvertently become a vampire.

Now stricken with the desire to drink human blood, Sang-hyun must learn to survive as the beast of legend, stealing blood from comatose patients and transfusion packs at the hospital. Things go from worse to worst when Sang-hyun falls for his childhood friend’s wife, Tae-ju [Kim Ok-bin], and she and him spiral into a seemingly endless cycle of blood-sucking horror and erotic tragedy.

From left to right: Kim Ok-bin and Song Kang-ho in Thirst

With a string of cinematic masterpieces, which are both brutal and poetic, tragic and artistic, providing splashes of grim humour and poignant drama concurrently, Park is arguably one of the most prominent talents to arise out of the current wave of Korean cinema. And while perhaps not eclipsing the impact of his seminal Oldboy, or his titillating romantic drama, The Handmaiden, Thirst remains an incredible piece of work; proving, in spades, Park’s ability to create illustrious cinema with little to no apprehension for taboo or extreme circumstances.

Train to Busan [2016]

Come on, how could we not include this action horror masterpiece?

Train to Busan is the story of Seok-woo [Gong Yoo], a cynical work alcoholic and divorced father, who endeavours to take his daughter, Su-an [Kim Su-an], on a trip to Busan to spend her birthday with her mother.

A seemingly easy task and one that Seok-woo believes will assuage the guilt he feels after failing to attend Su-an’s singing recital, yet one that proves strewn with obstacles when the train becomes overrun by flesh-eating zombies.

Depicting a slew of distinct characters lumped together on a train to the end of the world, Train to Busan is a wonderful example of the genre-bending mentality coming out of Korean cinema. One part action, two parts horror and scattered with melodrama that’ll make even the most dedicated David Lynch fan turn their attention, Train to Busan is an unexpected delight of gripping tension and exceptional pacing.

Directed by Yeon Sang-ho off a script by Park Joo-suk, the film is painstakingly dedicated to the zombie genre, portraying a great cast of reluctant characters that have to come together to fight off the deadly horde. With a sequel recently released in South Korea and a 2016 animated prequel to boot, Train to Busan is one of those movies where the less you know about it the better, and to be honest, we’ve said too much already.

Save the Green Planet! [2003]

Time for a total oddball with the environmentally skewed, science-fiction horror comedy, Save the Green Planet!.

Written and directed by Jang Joon-hwan, Save the Green Planet! depicts the tale of Lee Byeong-gu [Shin Ha-kyun], a man plagued with the burning belief that aliens from the Andromeda galaxy are about to attack Earth and he is the only one who can stop them.

From left to right: Ha-kyun Shin and Yun-shik Baek Save the Green Planet!

Suffering from a past trauma - due in-part to his mother dying as part of a pharmaceutical test - Byeong-gu believes that the man behind his mother’s death is the executive of the pharmaceutical company, and an alien in disguise. Kidnapping him so as to wreak vengeance on the man, Byeong-gu is revealed as being deeply deranged; mutilating myriad bodies, dissecting and seemingly murdering a procession of his previous victims to boot.

From left to right: Ha-kyun Shin, Yun-shik Baek and Jung-min Hwang in Save the Green Planet!

A symbolic and resolute tale about the coercion of large corporations and the suffering of the everyman, Jang’s Save the Green Planet! is a pertinent filmic effort that depicts, in horrific earnestness, the violence of man when pushed to the edge and burned by society.

It’s dark, it’s demented and it provides gore and laughter in equal measure. If grim comedy is your go-to, then go to this.

The Wailing [2016]

Now for the grand finale as we give credit to arguably the greatest Korean horror movie of the 21st century, the supremely unnerving, tantalisingly tense supernatural investigation thriller, The Wailing.

After rewatching and studying the myriad masterpieces of Korean horror cinema in preparation of this list, no other film quite unsettled us as much as this one. Written and directed by Na Hong-jin, The Wailing depicts - in reverence to Bong Joon-ho’s Memories of Murder, Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s Cure and the numerous other masterful asian crime thrillers - the story of lumbering police detective Jong-goo [Kwak Do-won] and his proceeding investigation into the mysterious deaths of a local family at the hands of a naked and zombie-like woman.

Seemingly infected by some sort of virus, the woman and her murders are just the first in a slew of unexplained atrocities that plague the town of Gokseong, a small village in the mountains of South Korea. With no tangible source of infection, Jong-go struggles to ascertain the meaning of the horrific events.

In his search for answers, Jong-goo uncovers that some believe a seemingly innocuous Japanese man, played exceedingly discreetly by Jun Kunimura, is behind the infection; exposing a harbouring xenophobia amidst the village’s inhabitants. Nevertheless, as Jong-goo ventures further into investigation, his daughter Hyo-jin [Kim Hwan-hee] becomes inadvertently wrapped up in a mystery most sinister; leaving Jong-goo to fight for his life, as well as his family’s, in this crime horror masterpiece for the ages.

From left to right: Kim Hwan-hee and Kwak Do-won in The Wailing

Honestly, whenever we create these lists, we try to employ at least a semblance of objectivity so as not to completely overthrow the article into bias. Yet, in the case of The Wailing, we have to reiterate that this movie is quite possibly the scariest film we’ve seen in years. It’s tense, evocative, dripping with meaning and utterly resolute in its depiction of the supernatural. Never stepping too far into the melodramatic, the film invites you into the jovial and generally light-hearted lives of Jong-goo and his family, only to leave you wailing by its end. It’s certainly a must-watch and fantastic end to our extensive list of Korean horror masterpieces. Give it a watch at the soonest possibility. You will not regret it.

Another facet of cinema and another list of our favourites within it; keeping us in touch with the monumental efforts of Korean horror cinema, while hopefully enlightening you with a series of great films to keep you engaged over the coming months.

And while your favourite may not have made the list, worry not as this is simply a list of our favourite films within the scope of Korean horror. Boasting a seemingly true sense of pedigree and an industry which shows its due to respect to the genre - its history, its legacy and its audience - Korean horror cinema is as prestigious as it is prodigious, presenting a body of work which is both terrifying and tantalising in equal measure.

With an insurmountable array of films to study and devour, the task of giving credit to each and every film, filmmaker, writer, actor etc. within the sphere of Korean horror cinema would be one of the utmost implausibility. That being said, feel free to discuss with us your favourites within the subgenre, expose where we’ve failed to shine a light and help us further our knowledge of a facet of cinema which we find so inspiring. This is the Sabukaru guide to Korean horror movies.

Here are our 6 honourable mentions: