South Korea’s cultural dominance on the global stage seems unassailable. From BTS topping charts worldwide to Parasite making history at the Oscars in 2020, and Korean dramas like Squid Game dominating Netflix, Korean pop culture has never been more prominent. In 2024, cultural exports hit a record-breaking $15.18 billion (£11 billion), solidifying South Korea’s status as a cultural powerhouse. But here’s where it gets controversial: beneath this glittering success, the very industries that built the Korean Wave—cinema and K-pop—are facing existential crises that threaten their creative foundations. And this is the part most people miss: their survival strategies might just be undermining the innovation that made them iconic in the first place.
The decline of South Korea’s cinema industry is particularly stark. Since 2019, admissions for both Korean and international films have plummeted by 45%, dropping from 226 million to 123 million. Box office revenue has nosedived from $1.3 billion to $812 million. With investments drying up, Korean distributors are expected to release only 20 locally produced films in 2025, down from over 40 annually in previous years. Industry insiders warn that 2026 could be even worse as the pandemic-era backlog runs out and new productions fail to keep pace. Kim Han-min, director of the Yi Sun-sin trilogy, delivered a chilling warning to lawmakers last year: the sector has ‘almost collapsed.’
Jason Bechervaise, a professor of Korean film at Hanyang University, argues this isn’t just a temporary slump but a structural crisis. ‘Years of shrinking margins and rising costs have squeezed out mid-budget productions,’ he explains. ‘These were the films where new directors honed their craft and established filmmakers experimented. Now, much of the talent is migrating to streaming platforms, where investment is steadier and production schedules are more predictable.’
The ‘theatrical holdback window’—the time between a film’s cinema release and its streaming debut—has shrunk to just a few weeks for many titles, giving audiences little incentive to buy tickets. This pressure has already led to historic consolidations, with Lotte Cinema and Megabox planning to merge their 1,682 screens. While cinemas are investing heavily in premium formats like IMAX and Dolby, industry experts warn that without a steady pipeline of domestic films, these upgrades won’t sustain a recovery.
But here’s the real question: Can South Korea’s cinema industry reinvent itself, or is it doomed to become a shadow of its former self? Let’s discuss in the comments.
K-pop, too, is at a crossroads. Long celebrated as one of South Korea’s most potent cultural exports, the genre is now facing uncertainty. Physical album sales dropped by 19.5% in 2024—the first decline in a decade—falling from 115.2 million units to 92.7 million. This trend is expected to continue through 2025. Yet, major agencies have found a lifeline in concert revenues, which have surged past traditional album sales as they shift focus to global touring.
Areum Jeong, a professor of Korean studies at Arizona State University, points out that K-pop companies are increasingly catering to their most dedicated fans. ‘They’ve prioritized the core fandom,’ she says, ‘and largely abandoned the idea of appealing to the general public. When companies focus on the core fandom’s needs, those fans spend and support.’ But here’s where it gets controversial: this narrow focus has influenced how idols are recruited, trained, and marketed, and the superfan-centered model is now being replicated globally. But can this approach produce another BTS or Blackpink? Or has K-pop lost the magic that once made it a global phenomenon?
Smaller agencies, once the lifeblood of experimentation and diversity, are struggling to survive, squeezed by rising production costs and a shrinking share of fan spending. Meanwhile, the global success of Korean cultural ideas no longer guarantees that Korean companies will reap the rewards. Take Netflix’s KPop Demon Hunters, for example. Co-directed by Korean-Canadian Maggie Kang and featuring Korean and Korean-American voice actors, the film became Netflix’s most-watched animated film—but it was an American production rooted in Korean aesthetics.
Jeong describes it as a ‘de-territorialized, hybrid idea of K-pop rather than an authentic K-pop product,’ suggesting that Korean cultural concepts have become so portable they can be reproduced internationally without Korean involvement. Similar groups trained in Korean methods are emerging in Japan and Southeast Asia, creating direct competition. Yet, audiences still crave authentic encounters with Korean culture. After KPop Demon Hunters was released, museums, food brands, and cosmetics companies saw renewed interest in items featured onscreen.
Bechervaise notes a shift in creative dynamics. As domestic productions became more formulaic, American studios and Korean-diaspora creators began incorporating Korean cultural elements into works like Minari, Beef, and Demon Hunters. ‘Korea beat Hollywood at its own game,’ he says, ‘but now it’s as though Hollywood is beating Korea at its own game.’
The South Korean government has responded with a massive five-year, 51.4 trillion won (£26 billion) cultural investment plan, aimed at expanding the country’s global cultural footprint and strengthening industries from content exports to arts training, tourism, and sports. President Lee Jae Myung has appointed K-pop mogul Park Jin-young, founder of JYP Entertainment, to co-chair a new presidential cultural committee to promote Korean pop culture internationally.
Major agencies like HYBE and SM Entertainment are opening subsidiaries in Southeast Asia, India, and China. But critics argue that this focus on overseas expansion risks neglecting the domestic infrastructure that fueled South Korea’s cultural rise and eroding the authenticity that initially captivated global audiences.
Jeong believes these industries will continue to profit but warns that financial success alone won’t guarantee creative renewal. ‘The Korean entertainment industry will keep making money,’ she says, ‘but creating something like KPop Demon Hunters that wins over a global audience will be increasingly difficult.’
Here’s the burning question: As South Korea’s cultural industries pivot to survive, are they risking the very essence that made them global phenomena? Share your thoughts below—let’s spark a conversation!
