Korean horror films tap everyday anxieties for spine-chilling thrills

Korea Herald

22-06-2025

Summer's crop of domestic frights trades supernatural scares for all-too-familiar urban nightmares
Summer in South Korea traditionally means one thing: audiences flocking to darkened theaters for a good scare. It's a peculiar cultural ritual where horror films offer an icy jolt to counter the sweltering heat — a shiver down the spine in place of a cool breeze.
But this year's slate of Korean horror marks a departure from the genre's usual paranormal suspects. Gone are the vengeful spirits and timeworn curses that once haunted screens.
Instead, filmmakers are leaning into the anxieties of modern city life, spinning terror from the everyday frustrations that haunt urban dwellers. These films suggest that in a country as densely populated and tightly packed as South Korea, the real horrors might not be otherworldly — they might just be the people around you.
Leading the charge is "Noise," opening June 25. Already a buzzed-about title on last year's international festival circuit, including Sitges and Fantasia, the film zeroes in on one of Korea's most maddening urban grievances: the relentless, brain-rattling thuds from upstairs neighbors. Director Kim Soo-jin transforms this all-too-familiar nuisance into a mounting sense of claustrophobic dread, turning domestic discomfort into a full-blown horror show.
In a country where more than two-thirds of the population lives in apartment complexes, inter-floor noise complaints are no laughing matter — they've sparked violent altercations, stabbings and arson attacks, some fatal.
The film roots its horror in this simmering tension, following the perspective of a hearing-impaired woman (played by Lee Sun-bin) who's searching for her missing sister. Her investigation leads her into a labyrinthine high-rise where every creak, shuffle and muffled knock feels like a threat, and even silence becomes suspicious.
Backing the film's psychological horror is a razor-sharp soundscape designed by the veteran audio engineer behind "The Wailing" (2016) and "Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum" (2018). From the stickiness of tape being peeled to the hair-raising scratch of nails on wallpaper, each sound is fine-tuned to shred nerves.
Netflix joins the fray on July 18 with "Wall to Wall," another thriller that draws on noise-fueled paranoia. It's one of seven original Korean films the streaming juggernaut is rolling out this year — and the lone horror entry — part of its broader push into the Korean film industry at a time when local theaters are reeling from record-low attendance.
Kang Ha-neul, a leading man known for his range across romance and thrillers, plays an everyman who bets everything — savings, pension, even family property — to secure a modest apartment in Seoul.
But his dream home quickly devolves into a psychological minefield as neighbors turn hostile and cryptic sounds pierce the thin walls. Apart from the scares, the film promises a timely commentary on South Korea's ruthless housing market and the emotional toll of securing — and keeping — a piece of it. (Fittingly, the Korean title "84 Square Meters" refers to the standard size of a middle-class unit here.)
Rounding out the lineup is "Ghost Train," which premiered at last year's Busan International Film Festival. The anthology turns Korea's ubiquitous subway system — the daily artery for millions of commuters — into a haunted maze of uncanny encounters. Despite the title, the horror here is grounded in the all-too-familiar: drunken passengers, flickering platform lights and vending machines that seem just a little too creepy.
Joo Hyun-young, best known for her comedic skits on "SNL Korea," makes her feature film debut as a clout-chasing YouTuber hunting for viral horror content at a notoriously cursed station. The film opens in local theaters on July 9.