Under the umbrella term 'Korean drama' there have been various types of drama since the early 2000s. During the course of the interviews, whenever informants mentioned drama titles the researcher would ask them to describe
the drama in their own words. In one particularly useful interview Su Mi, a
24-year-old female computer studies student, advised the interviewer that he needed to understand the different types of drama. The following is an excerpt
from the first author's field notes:
Su Mi was quite energetic and evidently relished talking about dramas.
Grabbing the pen from my hand she asked to use the notebook and she drew an organogram with different kinds of drama. It seemed clear that
while she had a general idea of what to include she was very much working this out in the course of explaining it as she paused to think to flesh out her model.When asked about specific dramas she proceeded to place them in her categories.
While this study did not originally set out to build a typology of Korean
drama, following informants readily agreed with Su Mi's basic typology, while some disputed certain evaluative and descriptive references to particular types
of dramas, which will be discussed further on.
One may indeed question the 'objective' validity of a typology ultimately derived from such a subjective source. Any typology is ultimately a system of
classification and,much like myths and kinship systems,is ultimately a 'cultural
artifact'. While the analysis of systems of classification has been a characteristic feature of anthropological thought, this has usually been applied to religious systems and kinship structures; however, we argue that such an approach is equally important when studying the contemporary mundane world of K-Dramas. Such a system can provide a useful way of understanding the meaningful categories by which the world is constructed even though it is ultimately a classification of its imaginary formations.
The following section will discuss this typology of Korean dramas as developed by our informants. Following Yang, we consider genre as 'the result of a social and historical process rather than a set of textual elements' (2008a, 79).
In this typology it is important to note that while the analysis is the authors',the terms and the categories emerged from our informants' own classificatory systems.The typology seems to be based on three criteria —:time of airing,targeted audience and content. When discussing deurama informants generally referred
to television mini-series, typically between sixteen and twenty-four episodes,
with each episode lasting less than an hour.
Our informants distinguished clearly between three different categories of
deurama. Achim deurama (morning dramas) are generally targeted at an older
female audience. They run for much longer than standard mini-series and
resemble the Western soap opera. During lunchtime, small restaurants often
have the tv tuned to such dramas with the restaurant's ajumma (aunties)
peeling vegetables and watching the drama on quieter days. Weekend dra-
mas ( jumal deurama) are generally considered family entertainment. These
include sageuk deurama (period dramas) which, according to our informants,
were generally preferred by their fathers. These dramas are generally set in
Korea's pre-modern past, either in the Koryo (918 ce–1392 ce) or the Goguryeo
periods (first century bce–seventh century ce). Recent research in the Korean
film industry has drawn attention to the revival of the historical drama. From
the late 1990s, because of 'shifting audience tastes, coupled with changing pub-
lic memory of the national past … television started airing extremely popular
sageuk dramas' (Hwang 2011, 97). These sageuk dramas have provided impor-
tant vantage points from which to explore the self-construction and represen-
tation of national identity, becoming 'a window into the way contemporary Koreans perceive their past' (Hwang 2011, 83). Among our informants there was
some debate as to what constituted a sageuk drama.
Descendants of the sun was a hugely popular Korean drama that aired in 2016
and was set in the context of a peacekeeping mission in the fictional country of
Uruk, located in the contemporary Balkans. It is interesting to note that, during
discussion of sageuk drama with some informants, debate arose as to whether or not Descendants of the Sun was indeed a sageuk drama. At one point during
fieldwork the first author was engaged in a discussion with two undergraduate female students attending a prestigious national university.When asked for
examples of recent successful sageuk dramas they had enjoyed, Myeong Jin, a
24-year-old literature student, mentioned Descendants of the Sun. Her friend, Su Mi, looked quizzically at her. Turning her head to one side, she pointed out
that to her recollection the drama was entirely fictional, which led to a discussion as to whether Descendants of the Sun was historically based or not.
Flamm (2018) providesan insightful analysis of Descendantsof theSun wherein
he points out that the historical omissions or reference to the UN context in
this drama are devices intended to 'normalize troop deployments in every-
day domestic discourse' (2018, 6). While actual historical referents are indeed
absent in this drama, it is constituted in such a manner that a historical context
is assumed,and indeed part of the success of the drama depends on the implicit connection to the Korean geo-political context, even though one cannot ignore
the fact that the 'the drama attempts to project a favourable image about Korea
to the outside world, in line with recent nation-branding campaigns by Seoul' (Flamm 2018, 6).
The revival of the sageuk genre led to a neologism that highlights its hybrid qualities: 'fusion sageuk'. There is indeed an increasingly important trend in
combining fantastical elements (pantaji) with historical referents. However, with the exception of one female informant who is a student of history, most
of our informants did not seem to have much interest in the sageuk dramas per
se and largely associated the genre with a male viewership, in spite of the fact that the new sageuk 'is explicitly pursuing the attention of female audiences
especially the younger demographics' (Hwang 2011, 84).
Over recent years pantaji (fantasy) dramas have become increasingly popular. Guardian: The Lonely and Great God (Sseulsseulhago challanhasin—Dokkaebi), produced by tvN, for example, became a national sensation in 2016–2017. The drama follows the life of an immortal goblin (dokkaebi) and his grim reaper friend ( jeoseung saja). The male protagonist, Kim Shin (acted by Gong Yoo), a general in Goryeo times, is cursed with an invisible sword in his back which prevents him from dying. Only a pure woman, destined to be his wife, can liberate him from his curse. The female protagonist in the drama is a poor and orphaned high school student ,Ji Eun Tak (Kim Go Eun). As such, the drama could be considered part historical in nature and could possibly be classified as a 'fusion sageuk', given the interplay of fantastical and historical themes. Even though it aired on a cable channel/pay tv, the drama broke records, with their final episode registering 18.68 per cent of the average audience share, according to the Nielsen polls. Many informants liked the drama because it was fresh and exciting (singihada).
Family dramas (gajok deurama), on the other hand, where the main theme of the drama revolves around family and everyday life, are normally preferred by mothers. That being said, recent studies seem to indicate that the gendered viewership might not be as clear-cut as it seems, with the rise of ajeossi (uncles) joining soap opera fandom (Kang, Im and Noh 2012, 202), although
generational differences seem to be more hard and fast. While some of those interviewed watch these dramas together with their families at the weekend, most of our informants followed weekday dramas (pyeongil deurama), which occupy the prime-time evening slots from Wednesdays to Fridays. For many
informants the weekend dramas are far too ridiculous and have unbelievable
plot twists. They described these somewhat pejoratively as makjang deurama,
meaning 'unrealistic' and 'overly melodramatic', with typically formulaic plot
devices. First-generation Korean dramas such as Winter Sonata and Autumn
in My Heart, referred to earlier, are indeed deemed to be unwatchable by the
younger generation, who consider them makjang deurama. Weekend dramas
were similarly criticised, though many female informants watched these dra-
mas with their parents as a family activity.
Whereas in the past it was generally the free-to-air national broadcasters
such as kbs, sbs and mbc that cornered the market, over recent years cable
television companies have started producing their own dramas. Even though,
according to Jin, cable channels 'cannot compete with networks in the realm of
dramas due to their lack of budget and expertise' (2016, 51), many second-wave
cable Korean dramas have outperformed their network rivals. Cable tv net-
works have steadily increased ratings and have introduced several innovative
approachestothegenrefromthemid-2010s.Thishasinturnpromptedthefree-
to-air tv networks to go beyond the comfort zone of melodrama and roman-
tic comedy as a result (kocca 2014, 66–67). Many of the people interviewed
believed that cable companies are more likely to be bold and experimental,
while free-to-air network companies are subject to more rigid censorship of
profanity and physical intimacy. It is unclear how much of this censorship is
actually imposed by law as opposed to a certain conservative self-censorship.
Perhaps the growth of cable television channels as producers of dramas is one
of the most significant differences between first- and second-wave Korean dramas.
This rise in the popularity of private cable companies is not only indica-
tive of expansive investment by media groups like cj e&m but also a sign of
the increasing proliferation of modes of viewership in the second wave. While
dvd sales of Korean dramas are uncommon, in Korea there is an increase in
streaming services which have made Korean drama content widely available.
Our informants watched dramas on their laptops and smartphones as well as
on tvs. Many of our informants wait until the show ends and download or
stream it in its entirety. The increased flexibility of modes of viewership, how-
ever, has meant that watching dramas might have become less of a social event
and more of a private one. Yu Na, for example, is a female university student in
her early twenties. She aspires to become an air hostess. She lives in a dormi-
tory, since her mother works in another city and her father is working overseas.
She does not watch a drama week by week but instead downloads an entire
season and watches it on her laptop.
Part of the recent change in Korean drama involves a greater diversifica-
tion within the genre. Whereas in the past most dramas could be classified as
melodramatic soap operas, over the last seven to eight years a greater variety
of dramas have been aired 'beyond the traditional generic palette coloured by
melodrama and romantic comedy' (Kim 2019, 5). New generic developments
include horror, legal thrillers, crime dramas and, most recently, fantasy. Korean
films and dramas have shown a remarkable capacity to appropriate and mod-
ify Hollywood genres, displaying a high degree of generic hybridity (Kim 2019,
4; Jin 2016, 68–90). Since the second Korean Wave, genre format exporting
has been one of primary concern in Hallyu, with the products going through
experiential modes of amalgamation to adapt to the global scale (Kim 2018,
23).
Two of the features singled out by interviewees as most important when
watching dramas are the ost (original soundtrack) and the actors themselves.
The soundscapes of Korean dramas are so intimately associated with the expe-
rience of watching a drama that when a drama is exported it is not uncommon
for record companies to buy airtime in the opening and end credits (Kim 2005,
201). The importance of the ost cannot be overestimated in Korea either, as
the songs, in particular, function as a cultural code invoking 'our nostalgia for a
lost community' (Yun and Kang 2014, 54–55). In Korea the soundtrack of pop-
ular Korean dramas has become a ubiquitous part of the Korean soundscape
and provides an important means to relive the drama and its characters. Eun
Hee, for example, kept listening to the soundtrack of Oh My Ghost (2015) (O
Naui Gwisinnim) long after the drama ended. She found that the soundtrack
helped her relive the feelings of the protagonist in the drama—in this case a
young ghost who is seeking to find peace. In particular she found that the song 'Leave', sung by the actual actor in the drama (Park Boyoung), evoked a certain
feeling of transience When looking back over one's life, which moved her deeply
(doedora boda).
Actors starring in Korean dramas often become international stars with a
fan base across the region. Much has been written on the popularity of Korean
male stars in constituting the Korean Wave (Lee 2010, 71; Yang 2008b, 287) This
'star factor', however, was also important among our Korean informants. Some
of our informants would choose to watch a drama because it starred particu-
lar actors. Hye In, for example, is a 20-year-old student who lives and studies
in Busan. Her parents run a small family restaurant in the city. She aspires to
find a job overseas in a company or else as an interpreter. She loved Guardian
because 'the actors are so beautiful'. Joong Ki, one of the few male informants
interviewed, told us that his favourite drama was also Guardian because, apart
from being action-packed and having fantastical themes, it starred Gong Yoo
and he 'trusts him'. For Joong Ki it is the actor's performance and skill which is
the most important element. Ah Reum is in her last year at university and is the
daughter of a bus driver and a kindergarten teacher. Her favourite drama is the
2014 romantic comedy Discovery of Love, mainly because of the actress Jung Yu
Mi. She has re-watched the drama more than once because of the female pro-
tagonist. For some, however, the star factor is a symptom of the superficiality of
the audiences of Korean dramas. According to Tran, 'regardless of talent, phys-
ical appearance takes more of the phenomenon into account' (2015, 57). The
idealised representation of the beautiful Korean stars, according to Tran, leads
to increasing numbers of young people undergoing plastic surgery in order to
resemble the idealised images of beauty represented by these stars (Tran 2015,
60). In her chapter on the star as a genre in Korean popular cinema, however,
Cho argues that the star 'functions as a container for individualized manifesta-
tions of group feeling, in a shifting field of differential relations between con-
cepts of national, ethnic and popular identity' (2014, 190). The racial politics of
Hallyu stars provide a personifiable form of self-ideal (Hong-Mercier 2013, 173–
174),offering,atleastforadomesticaudience,anoutletforcultivatinga'culture
of the self' that can bypass the established notion of Westernised beauty and
instead gives a feeling of subjectivity and closeness, making the domestic audi-
ence feel that 'you can sit next to them' (Lee 2008, 74). In this respect we believe
that while it is true that the physical beauty of the actors is a factor attracting
audiences,andhascertainlybeenusedasastrategytomarketdramasoverseas,
viewers are also drawn to the characters over and above the actors themselves.
As we discuss in our following sections, our research confirms that audiences
do indeed form a personal engagement with the characters in the drama rather
than simply with the stars who play them.