Korean cinema tells different kind of story at Sundance

From left, Victor Slezak, Marceline Hugot, Ali Ahn, Anna Sargent, Liz Sargent and Shane Harper attend the premiere of "Take Me Home" during the 2026 Sundance Film Festival at Library Center Theatre in Park City, Utah, Jan. 26. AFP-Yonhap

The popularity of Korean cinema overseas continues to go up, up, up with the success of recent films such as "KPop Demon Hunters" and Park Chan-wook's latest hit, "No Other Choice."

A recent survey conducted by the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism found that cultural exports, especially dramas and films, have helped raise Korea's global image to a new record high. Yet it seems that the Korean wave, or hallyu, hasn't hit Sundance in quite the same way.

When Robert Redford founded the Sundance Film Festival in 1978, his goal was to showcase independent directors working outside of Hollywood, primarily in the United States. But over the past four decades, Sundance has grown to support many filmmakers based overseas too, including those with roots in Korea.

As the visibility of Korean cinema gradually increased on the international stage, so too has its presence at Sundance — and this year is no exception.

A scene from "Bedford Park" by Stephanie Ahn, starring Son Suk-ku, left, and Moon Choi / Courtesy of Sundance Institute.

Two Korean American directors are competing in the U.S. Dramatic Competition this time around, both with their feature debuts.

“Bedford Park,” written and directed by Stephanie Ahn, stars Moon Choi, also known as Choi Hee-seo, and Son Suk-ku as two people struggling with the hurt and isolation that can stem from being children of immigrant parents. “Take Me Home,” expanded from a 2023 short of the same name, stars director Liz Sargent's sister as a 38-year-old Korean adoptee whose cognitive disability becomes harder to manage when tragedy strikes.

Korean Canadian artist Grace An tackles similar themes in the Short Film Program with “Cabbage Daddy.” This playful animated short explores An's experience as a "Konglish" — a portmanteau of Korean and English — speaker growing up, torn between two worlds where misinterpretations can create something new and even beautiful.

Such viewpoints weren't always so common in Sundance, however. Prior to the 21st century, Korean cinema hadn't yet established the reputation it now enjoys internationally. In fact, few could have predicted how popular Korean filmmaking would become at Sundance and beyond, especially given how gradual the shift was at first.

Moon Choi attends the premiere of "Bedford Park" during the 2026 Sundance Film Festival at Library Center Theatre in Park City, Utah, Jan. 24. APF-Yonhap

In 2006, Korean American filmmaker So Yong Kim won a Special Jury Prize with her debut feature, "In Between Days." Fitting, then, that she's returned to Sundance this year as a member of the World Cinema Dramatic Competition jury. Seven years later, Park Chan-wook's Hollywood venture, "Stoker," premiered at the festival, as did "Jiseul," which went on to win the World Cinema Grand Jury Prize in 2013.

Directed by Jeju-born filmmaker O Muel, "Jiseul" depicts the often-overlooked Jeju April 3 Uprising of 1948, during which 30,000 people were killed. Riding off enthusiastic word-of-mouth praise following its win at Sundance, "Jiseul" became the most-viewed independent dramatic film released in Korea at the time, drawing in more than 144,000 admissions.

But "Jiseul" was also an anomaly at Sundance as one of the few strictly Korean films to premiere there. Early Korean successes at the festival, like "Stoker" and "In Between Days," mostly centered the Korean American experience rather than Korean narratives.

In 2023 alone, three Korean American films made their mark on the festival: Amanda Kim's documentary, "Nam June Paik: Moon Is the Oldest TV"; actor Randall Park's feature film debut, "Shortcomings"; and "Past Lives," Celine Song's critically acclaimed love story starring Yoo Teo and Greta Lee.

In each case, themes pertinent to the Korean diaspora came to the fore, untangling questions of identity and heritage through an American lens.

A still from "Cabbage Daddy" by Korean Canadian filmmaker Grace An / Courtesy of Sundance Institute

The same was also true of Lee Isaac Chung's "Minari," which arrived at Sundance in 2020. Indisputably the greatest Korean success story yet at the festival, this touching story of a family in pursuit of the American dream became a huge contender in the following awards season.

"Minari" secured six Academy Award nominations, including a win for Youn Yuh-jung, making her the first Korean actor to win an Oscar.

That historic moment might not have happened if it wasn't for editor Harry Yoon, who edited "Minari" while production took place in order to meet the deadline for Sundance submission. But that was six years ago. What's stopping such a historic turn of events from occurring again for Korean films that premiere at Sundance?

For one, Korean productions developed entirely in Korea tend to favor other international festivals. Think Hong Sang-soo's enduring connection to the Berlin film festival or the world premiere of "No Other Choice" at Venice. Bong Joon-ho received the Palme d'Or for "Parasite" at Cannes in 2019, although last year's festival was the first to snub Korean cinema entirely for 26 years.

The explanation? Experts suggest that Korean film production has shifted in focus recently, prioritizing streaming content over a cinema-centric model. But when it comes to Sundance specifically, the lack of Korean titles that were developed and shot entirely in Korea is more understandable.

As the largest festival of its kind in the United States, Sundance has always concentrated more on storytelling that speaks to an American viewpoint. That's not to say Korean artistry hasn't made an impact, however.

Ali Ahn, left, and Anna Sargent in a scene from "Take Me Home" by Liz Sargent / Courtesy of Sundance Institute

Stories selected for this year's edition, like "Take Me Home" and "Cabbage Daddy," are still intrinsically Korean in all the ways that count. Both Sargent and An, the directors of these two films, imbue their unique viewpoint into every frame, as Korean American and Korean Canadian filmmakers, respectively.

In "Take Me Home," it's made clear just how easy it is for people of color to become lost in the American health care system, forced to suffer extra indignities due to the structural challenges in place. In "Cabbage Daddy," Korean is as integral to the formation of An's identity as English, if not more so.

Such tensions come to the fore in Ahn's competition title "Bedford Park" where familial duty and the bridging of two worlds is most apparent.

It's in the small moments, like when Eli (Son) feels shame eating with a fork in front of Audrey (Choi), saying "I just like the fork better.” Or when Audrey tells a Korean skin care specialist that she doesn't want "that creepy glass skin look," because her cousin made her feel uncomfortable beforehand.

But the complications that arise from growing up with immigrant parents can be felt here in big ways too. Eli feels it in his disconnect to Korean culture, embarrassed to even speak Korean out loud in fear of getting it wrong. And Audrey feels it in the familial ties that smother her, that make demands of her to marry a respectable Korean man so all their sacrifices in the U.S. weren't for nothing.

Choi isn't an immigrant herself, but she connected to Audrey's struggle regardless.

"I have moved around a lot as a child," she told The Hollywood Reporter, "from Japan to the U.S. to Korea, so I did resonate with this feeling of 'Do I belong here and who am I? Am I a Korean or am I an American?' I could understand that and [the] struggle between the parents, who have very traditional Korean values, which I could of course resonate with because I’m a Korean."

From left, Jin Ha, director Kogonada, Michelle Mao and Haley Lu Richardson attend the premiere of "Zi" during the Sundance Film Festival at The Ray Theatre in Park City, Utah, Jan. 24. AP-Yonhap

This friction — this liminal state of being — ties many Korean stories at Sundance together, and that even includes "Zi", the latest film by Korean American auteur Kogonada.

Despite being a multicultural love letter to Hong Kong, "Zi" taps into those same concerns with its story of a girl haunted by visions of her future self. "I was lost that day," begins Michelle Mao in the very first scene. "Stuck somewhere in the past. Would I be lost forever now? Would someone find me?"

In this respect, "Zi" shares much in common with other Sundance films this year such as "Bedford Park" and "Take Me Home," as well as previous entries like "Past Lives," "Shortcomings" and "Minari."

If that makes it seem like there's been a lot of conversation around this topic onscreen, you'd be mistaken. In reality, these specific struggles felt and endured by the Korean diaspora weren't really explored at all on screen until quite recently.

As such, Sundance has become a home of sorts for Korean cinema in a very different way than you might find at rival festivals. With more visibility than ever in the West, it's understandable that Korean American storytellers would use the opportunities provided by somewhere like Sundance to explore their own experiences, negotiating two different cultures to create something new.

Films such as "No Other Choice" and "KPop Demon Hunters" have found a huge audience outside of Korea, but it could be argued that it's Sundance titles like "Bedford Park" that represent Korean cinema at its most global, bridging the gap for those who live with one foot in each world.

David Opie is an entertainment journalist from the United Kingdom who writes across a range of publications including IndieWire, Empire, Radio Times and more. He also founded the LGBTQ+ newsletter Cruising Cinema. Find him at @DavidOpie on X.