South Korea is aging at a remarkable speed. In 2025, people aged 65 and over accounted for 20.3% of the population, officially placing the country in the category of a super-aged society. The OECD also reports that the relative poverty rate among Koreans aged 66 and over is around 40%, the highest among its member countries, with older women especially disadvantaged. Korean cinema has reflected these changes in markedly different ways, approaching old age through poverty, sexuality, dementia, violence, family structures, loneliness, and the desire to retain autonomy.

Poetry

Poetry (2010), similarly to LEE Chang-dong’s later Burning (2018), has a lot more to offer than one might assume at face value. It is a study of loneliness, ageing, and, simply put, leaving the world whilst simultaneously making peace with it. But also, it proves to be a meta-commentary on the mission of an artist.

Poetry (2010)

Yang Mi-ja, played by YUN Jung-hee, is in her seventies, but still has a lot to carry on her back. Tasked with raising her daughter’s son, Jong-wook, and also facing an onset of dementia, she decides to do something creative and signs up for a poetry writing class. The poetry and Yang’s status as an artist serve as something deeper rather than a simple plot device.

At the same time, Yang is presented with an overwhelming moral dilemma when her grandson turns out to be one of the boys involved in the sexual assault of a classmate who later died by suicide. LEE focuses again on issues of power and money, as well as class divisions, to highlight flaws of modern Korean society in which, with sufficient funds, everything can be bought. Long takes also contribute to the depiction of the protagonist’s mental landscape, while YUN Jung-hee’s vintage elegance allows the actress to create a complex character who seems both childish and insecure, as well as mature and dominant.

The Bacchus Lady

The title refers to a rather sad aspect of South Korean society, the “Bacchus Ladies”, elderly Korean sex workers who solicit in parks and plazas in Seoul, their name deriving from the popular Bacchus energy drink sold in places where elderly men gather. E J-yong’s The Bacchus Lady (2016) revolves around one of those women, So-young, who is 65 years old.

The Bacchus Lady (2016)

She lives in a small complex with a transgender woman and a young man with one leg, and she tries to make ends meet by prostituting herself in parks, chiefly to elderly men. The story starts with her in a clinic where she is diagnosed with gonorrhea, in a sequence that unexpectedly ends up with her taking care of a little boy whose mother is in jail.

Realism is the key word here, as E examines many aspects of the life of the elderly in the country. Apart from the obvious issue of the Bacchus Ladies, he also deals with solitude and euthanasia, while emphasizing the fact that elderly people also have sexual needs. YOUN Yuh-jung is the definite star of the work. Her portrayal of a feisty woman who retains her dignity and pride, despite her profession and because she manages to make a living by herself, is its biggest asset.

An Old Lady

LIM Sun-ae, who studied screenwriting with LEE Chang-dong, chose a difficult and uncomfortable subject for her first feature as writer and director. Inspired by a real-life case that had a more tragic outcome, An Old Lady (2020) strongly reminds us that sexual violence has more to do with power than it has with sex.

An Old Lady (2020)

The opening is a masterclass in subtlety and tact. An act of violence is being perpetrated and we are told this with only indirect hints of grooming dialogue and lights. Hyo-jeong, played by YE Soo-jung, is a 69-year-old woman who is sexually assaulted by a young male nurse aide while he is supposed to be giving her physiotherapy treatment following a knee operation. Overwhelmed by shame, Hyo-jeong takes time to gain strength and decide to report what happened.

The police are incredulous, and the usual victim-blaming tendency is amplified by the age gap between the woman and the perpetrator. Possible dementia is also added to the assumptions used to undermine her credibility. First and foremost, LIM wants us to reflect on the real drive behind sexual violence. By focusing on violence against an elderly woman, the director stresses the point that the crime is about exercising power over a vulnerable person, rather than sexual attraction. YE Soo-jung deservingly shines, giving an outstanding and yet restrained performance.

Mother's Kingdom

Dementia has played a significant part in South Korean cinema across genres, with works like A Moment to Remember (2004) using it in a romance drama setting and Memoir of a Murderer (2017) using it as a plot device for a serial killer story. Debut director LEE Sang-hak also uses the illness in his first work, albeit this time for a uniquely treated thriller called Mother's Kingdom (2024).

Mother's Kingdom (2024)

Joo Kyung-hee, played by NAM Ki-ae, lives with her adult son Doh Ji-wook. When his mother has an onslaught of early dementia and her memory begins to fail her, Ji-wook sets out to find the memory he has lost and discover what happened to his absent father. LEE approaches the thriller in a very understated, slow-burn manner, taking his time to set up its kingdom. Throughout this, it carries a tense undercurrent that threatens to burst out at any given moment, but he exercises restraint.

The editing also plays a big part in the production’s appeal, as many of the reveals come not with dialogue or extended showcasing but with quick insert cuts and short transitions that give just enough information without ever over-explaining. Coupled with cinematography that seems to lose brightness as Kyung-hee loses her memories and darkens as Ji-wook gains his, it works to set the atmosphere perfectly. In the context of an aging society, dementia becomes a crisis of memory for an entire family.

Homeward Bound

KIM Dae-hwan’s Homeward Bound (2025) approaches aging from a different direction. Rather than focusing on physical decline or economic precarity, it looks at middle age, adult children, sexuality, and the possibility of reorganizing family life later on.

Homeward Bound (2025)

The story follows Jung-ha, played by JANG Young-nam, a teacher and painter who lives peacefully in Chuncheon while secretly dating her girlfriend Ji-seon. One day, Jung-ha’s son, Jin-woo, returns home from Canada unexpectedly with his new girlfriend Jenny, whom he quickly announces as his fiancée. Shortly afterward, Jenny’s parents also arrive in Chuncheon, and as the three couples attempt to stay under one roof for a few days, long-buried secrets begin to surface.

KIM skillfully drives the plot forward by gradually revealing more and more shocking and quite liberating truths about family members. Remarkably, he manages to achieve this while delivering a relatively happy ending, which, considering that the main couple is queer and the son plans to become something of a stay-at-home husband, feels refreshingly progressive. JANG Young-nam impresses with her natural performance, especially in her portrayal of a closeted queer relationship.

Taken together, these five works show that aging in Korean cinema is not a single subject. It can mean poverty and labor, as in The Bacchus Lady; moral responsibility and dementia, as in Poetry; prejudice and vulnerability, as in An Old Lady; the disappearance of memory, as in Mother's Kingdom; or the possibility of remaking one’s life and family in Homeward Bound. As South Korea grows older, its cinema is increasingly reflecting not simply how long people live, but how dignity, intimacy, independence, and social recognition change with age.

Written by Panos Kotzathanasis
Edited by kofic