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Korea Herald
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
K-drama industry stands at crossroads: experts
Symbiotic relationship needed for global streaming services, Korean production bodies The Korean drama industry stands at a critical juncture, as experts and industry leaders call for reforms focused on cultivating balanced partnerships with global streaming platforms and safeguarding Korean production companies' IP rights to preserve the nation's cultural influence. At a forum hosted by the Korea Creative Content Agency, leading experts, including professors of media communications and heads of production studios, gathered to discuss the next phase of Korea's content industry. Hong Seong-chang, the head of Studio S, the drama production subsidiary of SBS, emphasized the need for a symbiotic partnership between Korean studios and international streaming services. Stressing that Korean studios should become more than mere subcontractors, he likened the ideal relationship to that between a crocodile and a plover bird -- mutually beneficial. 'The influence of investors is inevitably strong. (Global streaming services) may have requests, for example, preferring certain genres or wanting dramas to be produced in a particular creative direction," he said, during a forum held in Jung-gu, Seoul, on Thursday. "But in truth, there's only one reason Hallyu (Korean Wave) has grown as it has: because we've consistently created content that resonates with Korean audiences. That's what allowed our shows to gain popularity globally. If we had made dramas tailored to the tastes of global viewers from the start, I don't believe Hallyu would have become what it is today," said Hong. 'This is something even global streaming services can't help but acknowledge. We understand best what makes Korean content compelling, and that's something they recognize as well. Moving forward, the ideal strategy is to establish a mutually respectful relationship -- like that of a crocodile and a plover bird.' Amid skyrocketing production fees and fewer shows being made, partially due to Netflix's foray into the Korean drama landscape, Korea Drama Production Association Secretary-General Bae Dae-sik highlighted the industry's precarious state and the critical importance of intellectual property rights. 'The theme of this forum is the next strategy in the global streaming war, and the reason this topic emerged is because the (Korean) drama industry is on the verge of collapse," said Bae. "When producing Netflix originals, handing over IP ownership to Netflix is not something that should be taken lightly. Without retaining IP, hits like 'Squid Game' or 'When Life Gives You Tangerines' end up benefiting Netflix far more than us," said Bae, stressing that the new administration must develop concrete policies and systems to ensure production companies can retain IP. Bae also proposed the establishment of a dedicated professional institution focused exclusively on broadcasting and video content promotion, separate from the current KOCCA. Pointing out that the Korean drama industry's annual production budget —estimated at around 3 trillion won ($2.1 billion) — far exceeds that of the film sector, which has its own institution, he stressed the urgent need for specialized institutional support to help the crumbling industry.
Korea Herald
08-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
World Webtoon Festival to return with global push
Korea's premier web comic event expands to major shopping complex as industry eyes international growth South Korea's flagship web comic showcase is returning for a second year — this time, on a larger scale. As with last year, the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism will host the event, with the Korea Creative Content Agency overseeing operations. The 2025 World Webtoon Festival will take place Oct. 19–22 at the sprawling Lotte World Mall complex in Songpa-gu, Seoul, a 244,000-square-meter mixed-use development. The new venue marks a shift from last year's boutique setup in Seongsu-dong to one of Asia's largest shopping destinations, allowing for greater international participation and expanded commercial programming. Pop-up stores will occupy 11 spaces ranging from 10 to 100 square meters throughout the mall. These retail spaces will operate beyond the four-day festival window, staying open Oct. 16-26 to capitalize on visitor traffic and commercial momentum. The complex's ice rink will house content exhibitions, while its multiplex cinema will host conferences and presentations featuring industry professionals and creators in a 300-seat theater. This year's festival doubles down on cross-platform storytelling — showcasing how webtoons branch into games, animation and other multimedia formats. Separately, a job fair will connect aspiring creators with production houses to help expand career pathways in the rapidly growing sector. The culture ministry plans broader international participation following criticism that last year's event fell short of its global branding. This year's programming will feature creators and professionals from around the world to bring diverse industry perspectives. The second World Webtoon Awards ceremony will cap the festival's final day by recognizing outstanding domestic and international works across multiple categories. Last year's inaugural festival drew packed crowds to venues across Seongsu-dong. Popular series like "Solo Leveling" and "Omniscient Reader" drove merchandise pavilions, while tech giants Naver and Kakao demonstrated platform innovations, including AI-powered features and interactive viewing technologies. Korea's web comic industry recorded 2.19 trillion won ($1.5 billion) in sales in 2023, marking nearly 20 percent growth year-over-year, according to government data released earlier this year.
Korea Herald
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
Reinventing life after K-pop trainee days
Dropped from cutthroat race at young age, former idol wannabes redefine failure in their own ways Beneath the glitz and glamour of K-pop, countless trainees, many still in their teens, spend years perfecting their vocals and choreography, clinging to the hope of one day stepping into the spotlight. A 2022 survey by the Korea Creative Content Agency put their numbers at 1,170. But this figure leaves out K-pop star wannabes outside entertainment agencies -- those training at independent dance studios or trying their luck on platforms like YouTube. For many, the pursuit consumes their entire adolescence. But what happens to those who don't make it? What becomes of the lives shaped around a dream that never came true? We interviewed three former K-pop trainees to find out. 'The things that didn't work out helped shape who I am today' Park Hae-wan, a 31-year-old merchandiser at a food company in Gyeonggi Province, came close to making it. He was part of a 'debut team' consisting only of debut-ready trainees at one of Korea's top three entertainment agencies. During his trainee years from ages 14 through 18, he traded schoolwork for daily vocal and dance practice -- at least eight hours per day. 'Each year, not just the company but the industry itself seems to favor a certain 'type' of idol. Talent matters, of course, but I realized that other factors played a much bigger role,' he told The Korea Herald. 'Though it was disappointing, I decided it was time to move on before it got too late.' Once he left the agency, he turned to studying and was admitted to a university in Daegu. He later worked for two to three years as a vocal coach for idol trainees before securing a more stable role at his current company. According to Park, many trainees who drop out around the ages of 18 or 19 either resume their studies or take on part-time jobs to make a living. Having spent their formative years around celebrities and chasing idealized self-images, the young trainees, he explained, can lose touch with reality, leading to self-doubt and anxiety about life beyond K-pop. "When I was young, not debuting felt like the end of everything. But even the things that didn't work out helped shape who I am today. My experience interacting with adults during training gave me valuable skills for the workplace,' he said. 'I think preparing for the possibility that your dream might not come true is just as important as chasing it." Lost dream revived on YouTube Jeon Yoon-jeong, 29, a psychology graduate from Sogang University, recently surprised her friends by revealing a little-known chapter of her past: six years of K-pop idol training that began in elementary school. As a young K-pop fan who adored groups like Wonder Girls, Big Bang and TVXQ, Jeon first dreamed of becoming an idol after performing the choreography to Wonder Girls' hit 'Tell Me' at a school talent show. Joining an entertainment agency as a trainee was the first step toward that dream. From the age of 13 through high school, she auditioned over 300 times for agencies of all sizes. At 19, her efforts finally paid off when she passed an audition for Mystic Story, a subsidiary of K-pop powerhouse S.M. Entertainment founded in 2013 by singer-songwriter Yoon Jong-shin. "I poured eight hours a day into vocal and dance training as a trainee. But just before I could even join a debut team, the company abruptly scrapped its plans for a girl group. I had no choice but to walk away," she told The Korea Herald. Letting go of her idol dream for the time being, she enrolled in a nursing program at a local vocational college and later transferred to Sogang University in 2019 to study psychology, a field she had always been curious about. 'I never lost interest in academics, even while preparing to become an idol. I hoped that if I ever became famous, people would say I had worked hard in school,' she said. "I didn't end up becoming an idol, but I think having that dream pushed me to work hard and keep up with my studies." The stage she once chased as a trainee is no longer her goal, but music is still very much a part of her life. She performed as a vocalist for the university's R&B music club Abyss, as well as the intercollegiate band club Youth Planning. A year ago, she launched her own YouTube channel, where she has been uploading covers of others' songs along with videos documenting her everyday life as a college student. "Even if I didn't debut as a professional singer, I believe I can still pursue my passion by sharing music on platforms like Instagram and YouTube. No matter where life takes me, whether it's graduate school for psychology or a corporate job, I want music to always be a part of who I am," she said. 'Through various club activities, I realized I wanted to create and sing my own music. I hope to grow as a singer-songwriter by sharing music-related content on YouTube. Back when I was training to be an idol, I used to sing for auditions and agency staff. But now, I can focus on singing the songs I truly love." She noted that her story of an unrealized dream would resonate not only with teenagers dreaming of becoming idols, but with anyone preparing for a challenge, from university admissions to landing a job, emphasizing the value of having a dream, regardless of the outcome. "Just having that dream kept me on the right track. I worked hard in school and tried to be honest in everything, even something as small as not throwing trash on the street," she said. "While many of my peers were all taking the usual route -- studying hard for college --some of them told me they admired the fact that I had something I was passionate about. I never made it on stage as an idol, but I have no regrets. I picked up life lessons no textbook could ever teach me." From idol trainee to K-pop marketer Though they left their idol dreams behind, some trainees have found their way back into the K-pop industry, building new career paths in marketing and other creative roles. Lee Ye-youn, a 27-year-old office worker, once pursued the path of an idol trainee while in college. She was 23 at the time -- an age many consider too late to start training. Her days followed a strict routine. She went to school in the morning, then rushed to the company by 3 p.m. for vocal lessons, followed by solo practice and hours of group choreography in the evening. Most nights, she didn't get home until 11 p.m. After a year of training, she was accepted by a small entertainment agency, but she left shortly after, discouraged by the slim chances of actually getting her debut. "Before I started training, I thought having talent would be enough to get a chance. But things turned out to be way more competitive and complicated than I expected. Most of the trainees had started when they were in elementary school, and a lot of them were already in their midteens. There were many trainees from overseas,' Lee told The Korea Herald. "A debut felt like a distant and uncertain goal. Also, life as a trainee seemed less about expressing myself on stage and more about being shaped into a marketable product. It wasn't in line with my identity or goals.' Her idol career never took off, but the experience she gained as a trainee played a major role in shaping her professional path. Holding on to her passion for K-pop, she joined one of Korea's top three entertainment agencies in January last year, where she worked on artist-related marketing. Her time as a trainee exposed her -- both directly and indirectly -- to various aspects of the K-pop industry, including trends in music, performance and fashion, all of which gave her a deeper understanding of the industry as a whole, she explained. 'I applied to an entertainment agency hoping to better understand how K-pop operates behind the scenes and to play a small but meaningful role in its growth.' Lee recently transitioned to an artificial intelligence startup, where she now works on issues related to content management. 'I'm interested in protecting the rights of artists and creators in the digital space,' she said. "The most rewarding part of my job is seeing illegal content actually get taken down." cjh@
Korea Herald
26-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
Reinventing life after K-pop trainee days
Dropped from cutthroat race at young age, former idol wannabes redefine failure in their own ways Beneath the glitz and glamour of K-pop, countless trainees, many still in their teens, spend years perfecting their vocals and choreography, clinging to the hope of one day stepping into the spotlight. A 2022 survey by the Korea Creative Content Agency put their numbers at 1,170. But this figure leaves out K-pop star wannabes outside entertainment agencies -- those training at independent dance studios or trying their luck on platforms like YouTube. For many, the pursuit consumes their entire adolescence. But what happens to those who don't make it? What becomes of the lives shaped around a dream that never came true? We interviewed three former K-pop trainees to find out. 'The things that didn't work out helped shape who I am today' Park Hae-wan, a 31-year-old merchandiser at a food company in Gyeonggi Province, came close to making it. He was part of a 'debut team' consisting only of debut-ready trainees at one of Korea's top three entertainment agencies. During his trainee years from ages 14 through 18, he traded schoolwork for daily vocal and dance practice -- at least eight hours per day. 'Each year, not just the company but the industry itself seems to favor a certain 'type' of idol. Talent matters, of course, but I realized that other factors played a much bigger role,' he told The Korea Herald. 'Though it was disappointing, I decided it was time to move on before it got too late.' Once he left the agency, he turned to studying and was admitted to a university in Daegu. He later worked for two to three years as a vocal coach for idol trainees before securing a more stable role at his current company. According to Park, many trainees who drop out around the ages of 18 or 19 either resume their studies or take on part-time jobs to make a living. Having spent their formative years around celebrities and chasing idealized self-images, the young trainees, he explained, can lose touch with reality, leading to self-doubt and anxiety about life beyond K-pop. "When I was young, not debuting felt like the end of everything. But even the things that didn't work out helped shape who I am today. My experience interacting with adults during training gave me valuable skills for the workplace,' he said. 'I think preparing for the possibility that your dream might not come true is just as important as chasing it." Lost dream revived on YouTube Jeon Yoon-jeong, 29, a psychology graduate from Sogang University, recently surprised her friends by revealing a little-known chapter of her past: six years of K-pop idol training that began in elementary school. As a young K-pop fan who adored groups like Wonder Girls, Big Bang and TVXQ, Jeon first dreamed of becoming an idol after performing the choreography to Wonder Girls' hit 'Tell Me' at a school talent show. Joining an entertainment agency as a trainee was the first step toward that dream. From the age of 13 through high school, she auditioned over 300 times for agencies of all sizes. At 19, her efforts finally paid off when she passed an audition for Mystic Story, a subsidiary of K-pop powerhouse S.M. Entertainment founded in 2013 by singer-songwriter Yoon Jong-shin. "I poured eight hours a day into vocal and dance training as a trainee. But just before I could even join a debut team, the company abruptly scrapped its plans for a girl group. I had no choice but to walk away," she told The Korea Herald. Letting go of her idol dream for the time being, she enrolled in a nursing program at a local vocational college and later transferred to Sogang University in 2019 to study psychology, a field she had always been curious about. 'I never lost interest in academics, even while preparing to become an idol. I hoped that if I ever became famous, people would say I had worked hard in school,' she said. "I didn't end up becoming an idol, but I think having that dream pushed me to work hard and keep up with my studies." The stage she once chased as a trainee is no longer her goal, but music is still very much a part of her life. She performed as a vocalist for the university's R&B music club Abyss, as well as the intercollegiate band club Youth Planning. A year ago, she launched her own YouTube channel, where she has been uploading covers of others' songs along with videos documenting her everyday life as a college student. "Even if I didn't debut as a professional singer, I believe I can still pursue my passion by sharing music on platforms like Instagram and YouTube. No matter where life takes me, whether it's graduate school for psychology or a corporate job, I want music to always be a part of who I am," she said. 'Through various club activities, I realized I wanted to create and sing my own music. I hope to grow as a singer-songwriter by sharing music-related content on YouTube. Back when I was training to be an idol, I used to sing for auditions and agency staff. But now, I can focus on singing the songs I truly love." She noted that her story of an unrealized dream would resonate not only with teenagers dreaming of becoming idols, but with anyone preparing for a challenge, from university admissions to landing a job, emphasizing the value of having a dream, regardless of the outcome. "Just having that dream kept me on the right track. I worked hard in school and tried to be honest in everything, even something as small as not throwing trash on the street," she said. "While many of my peers were all taking the usual route -- studying hard for college --some of them told me they admired the fact that I had something I was passionate about. I never made it on stage as an idol, but I have no regrets. I picked up life lessons no textbook could ever teach me." From idol trainee to K-pop marketer Though they left their idol dreams behind, some trainees have found their way back into the K-pop industry, building new career paths in marketing and other creative roles. Lee Ye-youn, a 27-year-old office worker, once pursued the path of an idol trainee while in college. She was 23 at the time -- an age many consider too late to start training. Her days followed a strict routine. She went to school in the morning, then rushed to the company by 3 p.m. for vocal lessons, followed by solo practice and hours of group choreography in the evening. Most nights, she didn't get home until 11 p.m. After a year of training, she was accepted by a small entertainment agency, but she left shortly after, discouraged by the slim chances of actually getting her debut. "Before I started training, I thought having talent would be enough to get a chance. But things turned out to be way more competitive and complicated than I expected. Most of the trainees had started when they were in elementary school, and a lot of them were already in their midteens. There were many trainees from overseas,' Lee told The Korea Herald. "A debut felt like a distant and uncertain goal. Also, life as a trainee seemed less about expressing myself on stage and more about being shaped into a marketable product. It wasn't in line with my identity or goals.' Her idol career never took off, but the experience she gained as a trainee played a major role in shaping her professional path. Holding on to her passion for K-pop, she joined one of Korea's top three entertainment agencies in January last year, where she worked on artist-related marketing. Her time as a trainee exposed her -- both directly and indirectly -- to various aspects of the K-pop industry, including trends in music, performance and fashion, all of which gave her a deeper understanding of the industry as a whole, she explained. 'I applied to an entertainment agency hoping to better understand how K-pop operates behind the scenes and to play a small but meaningful role in its growth.' Lee recently transitioned to an artificial intelligence startup, where she now works on issues related to content management. 'I'm interested in protecting the rights of artists and creators in the digital space,' she said. "The most rewarding part of my job is seeing illegal content actually get taken down." cjh@
Korea Herald
09-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Korea Herald
Netmarble opens game museum showcasing Korea's gaming legacy
Korea's game industry is a major driver of the country's cultural exports. According to the Korea Creative Content Agency, games accounted for 58 percent of Korea's total cultural exports in the first half of 2024, significantly surpassing K-pop, which made up 12 percent. Despite the industry's scale, there have been limited venues offering a structured overview of its development in Korea, particularly in the form of educational or public exhibitions. Addressing this gap, Korean game developer Netmarble opened a game museum at its headquarters in Guro-gu, southern Seoul, in early March. 'Our game museum is designed to present the history of games and help raise their social and cultural value,' said Netmarble Director Kim Sung-cheol during a media tour of the facility on Tuesday. The museum is designed to appeal to a broad audience from children to adults familiar with earlier generations of gaming, the company said. It features 2,100 items that trace the history and development of the industry, blending nostalgic elements with educational content. The exhibition begins with a room that uses three-sided video projections to introduce the long history of games. Animated characters from Netmarble, including the vegetable-themed Koongyas, guide visitors through a brief overview of gaming's origins and evolution. Following the introductory segment, the main exhibition begins with a permanent collection displayed along one side of the hall. Featuring game software and hardware, the collection traces the evolution of games from academic and research environments into widely consumed cultural products. It begins with Tennis for Two, a 1958 game regarded as one of the earliest examples of computer-based entertainment, and continues through the emergence of recognizable characters and narrative-driven content. The displays highlight globally iconic games that were imported to Korea, such as Sonic the Hedgehog from Sega and Super Mario from Nintendo, providing context for how Korea began developing its own game content and how the industry may continue to evolve. The opposite side of the hall presents a storage-style display of early gaming consoles, software and accessories that were popular during the early years of the industry. 'We considered how visitors could enjoy the experience while planning the exhibition,' said Cho Ji-young, Netmarble's museum team director. 'So, we included items from our collection that might be appreciated by game enthusiasts, even if they are not necessarily landmark products in gaming history.' The museum also features interactive elements that offer insight into Korea's game industry. One section presents a tutorial on the game development process, with content aimed at children who may be interested in pursuing careers in the field. It introduces various stages of production — including character design, animation, soundtrack creation and programming — helping visitors understand and explore different roles within the industry. At the end of the museum route, visitors arrive at a room where they can play a variety of classic console and arcade games that were popular from the 1980s to the 2000s. 'The arcade machines use circuit boards originally designed in the 1980s, so they are prone to breaking down,' said Cho. 'Still, we make efforts to preserve and repair them repeatedly, as we see how much joy they bring to adult visitors who feel a sense of nostalgia in this space.' Aiming to establish the museum as a hub for the public to engage with one of the pillars of Korea's cultural content industry, Netmarble plans to continue expanding its collection and introduce a variety of interactive, participatory experiences for visitors.
