K-zombies: Violence, success and culture

A scene from "All Of Us Are Dead" / Courtesy of Netflix

By David A. Tizzard

I have written before about Korean content and K-content and the differences between them, as well as their reception in different parts of the world. Domestic television here still loves a historical drama and romance story. What makes headlines in the Guardian or the New York Times, however, is when the content is extreme. The Korean dramas that gain the most international traction these days are those that push the violence and gore to the next level, displayed in lush cinematography and presented by the aesthetically beautiful. "Squid Game" is all the rage; "The Red Sleeve" is largely unknown beyond a specific fan base.

The reason many fans were attracted to Korean dramas in the first place was, in part, because they provided relief from the sex and violence of Hollywood and elsewhere. They were Disney stories full of innocence, romance and nostalgia. Contemporary princesses, or sometimes actual historical princesses, saved and courted by breathtakingly beautiful and sensitive men. Modern conservatism in a world full of gratuitous titillation. Despite them still being hugely successful here, the West (rather than other parts of Asia, though of course not exclusively) wants something different. So just like BTS last year went for a London breakfast (full English), the search for international (see: Western) success finds Korean dramas also possibly losing sight of the very qualities that made them popular among certain demographics in the first place.

This is not anything new. At high-school, we used to share VHS tapes of the latest Japanese horror and be completely dumbfounded by what we were seeing. "School Mystery," "Angel Dust," "Ringu" and "Audition" all terrified us. There was an unspoken prevailing attitude: if you wanted to watch something really weird, it had to be Japanese. The remakes or the British versions never quite captured the same vibe. It was the same with the amazing "Takeshi's Castle." Edward Said might have something to say about all this, I'm sure.

Staying in a similar timeframe, at times "All Of Us Are Dead" also feels a bit like the 1996 horror movie "Scream" in that it references other movies, talks of zombie tropes, and gets all meta in the search of the kids' survival. We do get modern life though: drones used to send messages, Gen Z kids trying to unlock phones with face ID when the owner has turned into a zombie, and social media platforms creating gay relationships out of their favorite characters. The giving of a name-tag to someone you like is also very common these days in Korean school. It's so new, in fact, that academics and culture critics don't seem to have given it a catchy name yet.

The latest drama makes it clear from the start that bullying, ostracism and violence are the core themes and plot devices. Bullying happens in every country, of course, but it doesn't always manifest in the same way. Culture matters. And in this drama, the bullies are even scarier than the zombies. The zombies are all instinct and undead rage; the bullies are malevolence with specific victims.

Bullying in Korea, sometimes referred to as "gapjil" when addressing the abuse of power among adults, has become an incredibly sensitive issue over the past couple of years. Athletes have lost their position on Olympics teams, celebrities have had endorsements canceled, and the behavior of politicians' wives is analyzed on the evening news. We have also seen the tragedy of people either being directly killed by this violence or choosing to take their own lives as a means of escape.

For most sociologists, Korea is a more collectivist society than it is individual. One's identity, position, role, and even term of address is defined by those around you as much as it is by yourself. This produces interdependence, harmony, hierarchy and strong in-groups. It also means that failure to adapt, submit or be accepted can result in a powerful isolation. The word you will hear for this is "wang-dda," meaning total exclusion. It is not without significance that the physical bullying and violence that sets the plot rolling takes place under the soft neon glow of an illuminated Christian cross and a "manja," a Korean Buddhist swastika. The drama does not hide away from exploring the moral failings of religious groups and authorities in society to protect people.

Because "All Of Us Are Dead" includes just about every possible undesirable element of modern Korean society, it has been suggested that the drama was working from a checklist of items to include. Thus we are also faced with storylines of young girls unable to seek help during pregnancy, the illegal filming of women for sexual pleasure and then shaming them into compliance despite them being the victims, people in authority concerned with their reputation more than children, the prevalence of fake news, and internet BJs promoting sensationalism in the vain pursuit of subscribers. For those with even a passing knowledge of Korean history, the tragedies of the Gwangju Uprising (1980) and the heartbreaking sinking of the Sewol Ferry (2014) are visible here, too.

There's a lot good about this new series. At times it works very well as a black comedy, utilizing humor, poo jokes and teenage banter. There's a subtle change in the score when this happens and it provides excellent relief from the claustrophobia of the oppressive zombie hordes. The acting is also very good. "Squid Game" gave us some excellent performances and others incredibly annoying; the quality here is far more consistent. A lot of praise should be given to these young actors for the emotions they are capable of generating. Like all good zombie content, it plays out questions of folk psychology and morality well. Rather than read the latest literature on the Trolley Problem and the philosophical implications, we instead understand the question of sacrifice, loss and gain through passive media consumption.

While many critics saw "Squid Game" as an insightful and blistering attack of modern capitalism, I was somewhat more cynical. I thought it was a slick piece of modern entertainment that provided catharsis. Essentially, it did our anti-capitalist protest for us and left us free to continue paying our monthly subscriptions and fill our baskets with online goods. I fear that "All Of Us Are Dead" might do the same with bullying and violence in Korean society. We will applaud the drama for highlighting the problem, register our acknowledgement of it, perhaps put out a tweet on Insta story, and then feel like we have made a positive contribution.

We also need to consider the use of "K-drama" as an umbrella term for all the media content the country is producing. The difference between something like "Hometown Cha Cha Cha" and "All Of Us Are Dead" surely requires more specific or focused categorization. Yes, the catchall term helps the spread of Korean content abroad but those who finish a romantic rom-com and then have their algorithm suggest something like this as their next binge will be dreadfully disappointed.

It's also worth considering the connection between Netflix, Korean content and promotion. It's fairly well-known that YouTube views can be bought and are also then further enhanced through continuous streaming through multiple devices. When media outlets measure K-pop's success on views alone rather than any musical qualities, we should remain cognizant of that fact. I'm not suggesting astroturfing is definitely happening here, but I would like to see some proper research into the use of commissioned articles, promoted content, and created media hype on these platforms with the release of new content. If, for example, any drama tops a most-watched list in 20 countries for one day but then immediately drops back down the charts afterward, does it not point to something taking place not entirely natural?

"All Of Us Are Dead" is long. It's a twelve-episode slug fest, and it feels like it at times with the repetition of set-plays and run-escape theme. But it's an interesting watch and the actors do a very good job of bringing you into their lives. What it says about the trend towards violence in K-dramas geared for international success, the use of catharsis to keep us passive, the term "K-drama," and constructed achievements is there to be debated.

Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.