Justin Kyle from the Straight Chilling Podcast joins Joe and Shawn to walk through the history of Korean horror cinema decade by decade, from silent-era ghost films made under Japanese occupation to the shamanism boom of the 70s, the censorship dark ages of the 80s, and the golden ages that bookend the 60s and the 2010s. Along the way they make the case that Korean horror has been doing most of what people think is new for over sixty years, and argue about whether Train to Busan deserves any of its reputation.
Angel Earl Joel Bonomini Devon Hiphner Gabi Palomino Steve Marsh Eva Sikora Hunter Winter Cecilia Löfgren Dumas Ashley Wright Edward Bradford Boram Yoon Chad Struhs Stewart MacMillan Louise Dreisig
Korean Horror Film Timeline by Decade
Silent Era
1924 — Tale of Two Sisters adaptation — lost film
1960s
1960 — The Housemaid (하녀) — Kim Ki-young 1960 — Madam White Snake (백사부인) — Shin Sang-ok 1964 — The Evil Stairs / The Devil’s Stairway (마의 계단) — Lee Man-hee 1965 — A Bloodthirsty Killer / Devilish Homicide (살인마) — Yi Yong-min 1967 — Public Cemetery Under the Moon (월하의 공동묘지) — Kwon Cheol-hwi 1967 — Yongary, Monster from the Deep (대괴수 용가리) — Kim Kee-duk 1969 — The Devil and the Beauty (악마와 미녀) — Yi Yong-min
1970s
1970 — Ghosts of Joseon (이조괴담) — Shin Sang-ok 1975 — The Man with Two Faces (공포의 이중인간) — Yi Yong-min 1977 — Io Island / Ieodo (이어도) — Kim Ki-young 1978 — A Woman Chasing a Killer Butterfly (살인나비를 쫓는 여자) — Kim Ki-young 1979 — The Divine Bough (신궁) — Im Kwon-taek
1980s
1981 — Suddenly in the Dark / Suddenly at Midnight (깊은 밤 갑자기) — Go Yeong-nam 1981 — The Hut (피막) — Lee Doo-yong 1981 — A Monstrous Corpse (괴시) — Kang Beom-gu 1982 — Dracula in a Coffin — director unconfirmed
1990s
1995 — 301, 302 (삼공일 삼공이) — Park Chul-su 1997 — The Hole — director unconfirmed 1998 — Whispering Corridors (여고괴담) — Park Ki-hyung 1998 — The Quiet Family (조용한 가족) — Kim Jee-woon 1999 — Memento Mori (여고괴담 두번째 이야기) — Kim Tae-yong and Min Kyu-dong 1999 — The Ring Virus (링) — Kim Dong-bin 1999 — Tell Me Something (텔 미 썸딩) — Chang Yoon-hyun 1990s — Deep Scratch — director unconfirmed
2000s
2001 — Sorum (소름) — Yoon Jong-chan 2003 — A Tale of Two Sisters (장화, 홍련) — Kim Jee-woon 2004 — R-Point (알 포인트) — Kong Su-chang 2006 — The Host (괴물) — Bong Joon-ho 2009 — Thirst (박쥐) — Park Chan-wook
2010s
2010 — I Saw the Devil (악마를 보았다) — Kim Jee-woon 2010 — Bedevilled (김복남 살인사건의 전말) — Jang Cheol-su 2012 — Horror Stories (무서운 이야기) — Min Kyu-dong, Jung Bum-shik, Hong Ji-young, Kim Gok and Kim Sun, Lim Dae-woong 2015 — The Silenced (경성학교: 사라진 소녀들) — Lee Hae-young 2016 — Train to Busan (부산행) — Yeon Sang-ho 2016 — The Wailing (곡성) — Na Hong-jin
2020s
2021 — Seire (세이레) — Park Kang 2022 — The Fifth Thoracic Vertebra — Park Se-young 2024 — Exhuma / Pamyo (파묘) — Jang Jae-hyun 2024 — Hopeu (호프) — Na Hong-jin
Why do ghosts conveniently conform to the culture of the people seeing them? Korean folklore gives us the cheonyeo gwishin, Western traditions have their own recognizable specters, and decades of movies have taught us that ghosts should be translucent, vaporous, and obviously dead.
Joe and Shawn question whether any of those images are useful when examining claims of actual ghost encounters. If ghosts represent a genuine phenomenon, Shawn argues, their basic characteristics should remain consistent across cultures. The conversation moves from Korean folklore and Shakespeare to filmmaking, Newfoundland ghost traditions, the concept of han, trauma as an explanation for hauntings, and the surprisingly mundane descriptions that appear in some of the more convincing alleged encounters.
Why folklore shouldn’t be treated as scientific explanation
Shakespeare and ghosts on stage
How theater and cinema shaped the translucent ghost
Alleged ghosts that look completely human
The possibility of encountering a ghost without realizing it
Newfoundland ghost traditions
The Irish and Newfoundland “fetch”
What makes somewhere “the most haunted place on Earth”
Trauma as an explanation for hauntings
Han and Korean ghost folklore
Why claims that han is uniquely Korean create a logical problem
Skepticism and paranormal research
Timestamps
00:00 Introduction 06:00 Defining the problem with ghosts 10:00 Folklore as explanation 11:36 What if ghosts are real? 13:00 Korean ghost imagery 15:00 Fictional ghosts versus alleged encounters 17:30 Ghost imagery across cultures 20:00 The mundane ghost 22:00 Theater, film, and translucent spirits 25:00 Ghosts we may not recognize 27:00 Newfoundland’s “fetch” tradition 29:00 The most haunted place on Earth 31:00 Trauma and restless spirits 33:00 Han and Korean ghosts 34:50 Final discussion 36:30 Listener shout-out
Mentioned During the Episode
Cheonyeo gwishin
Hamlet
Watership Down
Newfoundland ghost folklore
St. John’s Haunted Hike
The Irish/Newfoundland “fetch”
Han (한)
The Korean Ghost and Mr. Skeptic
Shawn Morrissey’s newsletter, Welcome to Savage Haller
The Most Haunted Place on Earth (Depending on Who You Ask)
Angel Earl Joel Bonomini Devon Hiphner Gabi Palomino Steve Marsh Eva Sikora Hunter Winter Cecilia Löfgren Dumas Ashley Wright Edward Bradford Boram Yoon Chad Struhs Stewart MacMillan Louise Dreisig
The Problem with Korean Ghosts
Korea has a ghost problem. Not that there are too many of them. The problem is that Korean ghosts are suspiciously Korean.
You know the image. A young woman dressed in white, long black hair hanging over her face, usually carrying some terrible grievance from life. The cheonyeo gwishin, the ghost of an unmarried woman, has become one of the most recognizable figures in Korean horror. Variations turn up throughout folklore, television, movies, webtoons, and the stories people tell each other.
Move to another country and the ghosts change.
Britain gives you spectral figures wandering castles, sometimes carrying their own heads. Japan has its own traditions. European folklore has revenants, white ladies, and phantom armies. Newfoundland has the “fetch,” an old Irish term that survived across the Atlantic and can refer to the apparition of someone who has died, or sometimes someone about to die.
This is all wonderful material for folklore. It becomes considerably more troublesome when people start treating folklore as evidence for what ghosts actually are.
Folklore Explains the People, Not the Ghost
Human beings have always created stories to explain things they didn’t understand. Eclipses are an easy example. Cultures around the world developed elaborate explanations for why the sun suddenly disappeared. Korea had stories involving the Bulgae, supernatural fire dogs associated with eclipses.
We now know what an eclipse is. The old explanation wasn’t stupid. It was an attempt to understand an observed phenomenon using the knowledge available at the time. The story remains valuable because it tells us something about the people who created it. It doesn’t tell us anything useful about orbital mechanics.
Ghost folklore presents a similar problem.
If ghosts are entirely products of culture, there’s no contradiction. Of course Korean ghosts would be Korean. They’re Korean stories.
But assume for a moment that at least some alleged ghost encounters involve a real phenomenon that we don’t yet understand. Now things get difficult.
A natural phenomenon shouldn’t change its fundamental properties according to nationality. Gravity doesn’t behave differently in Busan because the local folklore says it should. An eclipse doesn’t become a different astronomical event when viewed from Seoul instead of Newfoundland.
Why should a ghost?
The Woman in White
The woman in white with long hair is so thoroughly associated with East Asian horror that it’s easy to assume the image belongs here. It doesn’t, at least not exclusively.
Long-haired female ghosts and women in white appear in traditions well beyond Korea and East Asia. Similar imagery appears in European folklore and even older Italian horror cinema. The details change, but the broader image travels surprisingly well.
That should already make us cautious about treating the familiar Korean ghost as some kind of ethnographic description of the supernatural.
More importantly, the classic cheonyeo gwishin doesn’t line up particularly well with many accounts from people who claim to have encountered ghosts in Korea.
The most interesting alleged encounters tend to be much less theatrical.
People describe someone who looks like a person.
That’s about it.
No floating. No special costume. No carefully positioned hair. Sometimes the figure reportedly appears completely solid. The witness only begins questioning what happened because the person behaves strangely, appears somewhere impossible, or vanishes when they shouldn’t have been able to.
That is much more interesting than the standard horror image because the witness doesn’t immediately know what they’re looking at.
If ghosts exist and look like ordinary people, there is another possibility. Someone could encounter one and never realize it.
Hollywood Has Some Explaining to Do
The translucent ghost feels almost universal now. You can see the wall through it. Its edges fade into mist. Eventually the whole thing dissolves into nothing.
That image owes quite a bit to storytelling technology.
A ghost on an Elizabethan stage had to be played by an actor standing there in front of you. Hamlet’s father couldn’t conveniently become 40 percent transparent. The medium placed limits on what a ghost could do.
Literature removed some of those restrictions because the reader could imagine whatever the writer described. Theater technology later developed tricks with lighting and scrims. Film blew the doors off completely. Double exposures, optical effects, and eventually digital effects could make spirits fade, glow, float, materialize, and disappear.
Those images became part of our visual vocabulary for ghosts.
That doesn’t make them observations.
It makes them very effective special effects.
The Trouble With Trauma
Another common explanation is that ghosts result from trauma. Someone suffers terribly, dies violently, and remains behind.
Korean ghost stories are full of this. So are ghost traditions elsewhere.
There is an obvious emotional logic to it. A peaceful death provides closure. Murder, betrayal, injustice, or overwhelming grief leaves unfinished business. It’s a fantastic engine for storytelling.
As an explanation for an actual paranormal phenomenon, however, it just creates another question.
Why would trauma produce a ghost?
Saying that someone returned because they suffered doesn’t explain the mechanism. It assumes the very thing that needs explaining. We don’t have an agreed scientific definition of a soul, much less an explanation for why psychological trauma would cause one to remain in a physical location after death.
Again, this doesn’t make the folklore worthless. Quite the opposite. Stories about restless dead people tell us a great deal about how living people think about justice, grief, memory, and proper death.
They just don’t establish why a haunting occurs.
And Then There’s Han
Korean discussions of ghosts eventually run into han.
Han is notoriously difficult to define neatly, partly because it has accumulated so much cultural baggage. Grief, resentment, sorrow, frustration, unresolved injustice, and collective suffering can all become part of the explanation.
It’s also frequently presented as something uniquely Korean.
That creates a peculiar problem when han is used to explain Korean ghosts.
If unresolved grief and suffering cause people to become ghosts, the mechanism can’t depend on an emotion unique to Koreans unless Korea is the only country with ghosts. People everywhere experience grief, injustice, resentment, and loss.
Either the emotional experience isn’t uniquely Korean, or it can’t serve as a universal explanation for hauntings. You can’t comfortably have both.
Han remains useful for understanding how Koreans have interpreted suffering and how Korean stories have framed the restless dead. That’s different from demonstrating that han creates ghosts.
The Ghost Outside the Box
None of this requires dismissing ghost stories. It requires separating two different questions.
Folklorists can ask what people believe about ghosts, why certain stories persist, and what those stories tell us about a culture. Someone investigating alleged paranormal encounters has to ask a different question: what actually happened?
Mixing the two can contaminate the evidence.
A witness who has spent a lifetime watching long-haired women crawl across horror-movie floors already possesses a template for what a ghost is supposed to look like. The same applies to a Westerner expecting translucent Victorian children in an old house.
That doesn’t mean the witness is lying. Memory and perception aren’t recordings. We interpret unusual experiences using concepts already available to us.
The genuinely strange possibility is that, if ghosts exist at all, they may have very little in common with the ghosts we’ve invented.
They might not dress correctly for their culture. They might not glow. They might not be transparent. They might not appear because someone died violently or because a shaman says a place carries spiritual energy.
They might simply look like people.
And if that’s the case, the most interesting ghost encounter might be the one you didn’t realize you’d had.
