Let’s begin with the fact that it is generally categorized as a comedy, or at most, a dramedy. If a quintessential element of these genres is to make us smile, then Aema certainly belongs to neither, for while it is highly entertaining, it does not provoke laughter at all. Or is there anyone who could laugh at how the male-dominated entertainment industry degrades its actresses into sexual objects and commodifies them? Or at how these vulnerable women still fight for their success and the preservation of their self-respect? Because Aema is precisely about these issues—straight-talking, often vulgar, and weaving actual historical events into its fictional narrative.
We are in 1981, when a film producer at a corporate event speaks of a new world dawning upon South Korea in the 1980s, one defined by "the screen, sex, and sports." The response of Korean cinema to this—its "miracle weapon" to revitalize the industry—will be sex.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
As the film contains numerous historical references, as a non-domestic viewer, I felt it was worth investigating them. First, I was stunned by the fact that they speak of a curfew that had been in place for 36 years. It turned out that this is no exaggeration; the curfew introduced in 1945, lasting from midnight until four in the morning, was only abolished on January 5, 1982. The "better world" heralded from the 80s onward was a slogan linked to President Park Chung-hee, intended to divert attention from politics, but in reality, the grip of the dictatorship did not loosen under him, nor under Chun Doo-hwan, who followed him after his assassination. The aforementioned triple slogan—the "3S policy" referring to the stultification of the populace—only spread from a later newspaper article. The strict censorship of the film industry remained in effect; we encounter this in Aema as well, when the title of the film in production must be changed and the script revised in 36 (!) places.
This film, however, is not a fabrication; Madame Aema is a real work, directed by Jeong In-yeob and released on February 6, 1982, as the first erotic production in Korean film history to receive a theatrical release.
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A Madame Aema (1982) filmplakátja.
A kép forrása: Wikipedia / Fair Use. |
But what could have led to its birth, if not the softening, morale-boosting measures of the country’s leadership? Perhaps the most important factor was that, thanks to the constant American presence, Western cultural and social phenomena flowed into the country unimpeded. In the West, the sexual revolution was reaching its peak, having completely rewritten the relationship toward sexuality since the 60s. With the spread of contraceptives, the thinking and behavior of younger generations became more open regarding physicality, permeating everything from how they spoke about it to embracing sexual fantasies and the transformation of fashion. Art was not exempt from this either. Explicit content appeared in the works of leading directors; for instance, Pasolini’s
Decameron was made in 1971, and Bertolucci’s
Last Tango in Paris in 1972. It was no different in Japan, which treated sexuality much more openly to begin with, where the Japanese-French co-production
In the Realm of the Senses—Nagisa Oshima’s stormily received film—was released in 1976.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
Following all this, it became clear that erotic films could command the interest of the general public and could indeed appear as a lifeline for cinemas, which were sufficiently terrified of the rise of color television at the time. In France, the first Emmanuelle film was born, becoming the first X-rated film in the United States and gaining popularity in South Korea as well. This film was far from "high art"; in terms of genre, it belonged to softcore pornography, growing into a cult film followed by numerous sequels.
It is believed that these trends did not leave the tastes and demands of the Korean public untouched, and to satisfy them, the film Madame Aema was released in 1982. It was a domestically produced film and the start of a series totaling 11 parts. The title was originally intended to be Madam Emma, a direct reference to the Emmanuelle films, but it had to be changed due to censorship. Thus, Emma became Aema, which means "dear horse"—a title that, in its content, points no less directly to its cinematic predecessor.
The current Aema series is an imagined story of the making of that film, featuring the filming of several famous scenes. Therefore, it is worth briefly summarizing the content of the '82 film: in it, Aema is a wife living in a bad marriage, whose seemingly alcoholic husband constantly cheats on her and treats her in a humiliating manner. During one of his drunken episodes, his provocation goes wrong; the man he strikes dies, and the husband is sentenced to eight years in prison. At this point, the family takes their young daughter away from Aema. For years, she faithfully visits her husband in prison, yet her unfulfillment increasingly overwhelms her. Meeting an old flame, she becomes entangled in sexual adventures, but as she tries to escape the situation, the man’s aggression erupts, nearly leading to Aema being raped. Aema does find love, yet she is unable to choose it; instead, as a proper, tradition-respecting wife, she returns to her husband upon his release from prison. He promises her the world and that he has changed—right up until his first phone call shortly thereafter, once again informing Aema of his night out.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
Thus, the new series
Aema, written and directed by
Lee Hae-yeong, constantly reflects on the original film while introducing us to the conflict-ridden landscape surrounding it. The master of the production process is, of course, the studio producer
Goo Joong-ho (
Jin Sun-kyu). He is a chauvinistic, foul-mouthed character who, in the pursuit of maximum profit, seeks to place both his actresses and his writers at the service of the sexual arousal of male viewers. He treats no one as a human being; instead, he uses the resources at his disposal to voluntarily cater to the hedonistic demands of those in power. This is not excused by the fact that, under the given circumstances, filmmaking heavily depended on the whims of these figures and their entourage, as he is simultaneously lining his own pockets.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
The jewel of his company is
Jeong Hui-ran (
Lee Hanee), a nationally adored film diva who is contractually obligated to make one final film but refuses to play the lead in the "filthy" role offered to her. As punishment, Goo devises a plan to cast a rookie actress in the lead and forces Hui-ran to take a supporting role.
Sin Joo-ae (
Bang Hyo-rin) seeks to escape her hopeless fate through the film industry and is determined and bold enough to seize the unexpectedly offered opportunity.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
This, however, marks the beginning of a power struggle between the two women, which slowly transforms into understanding and alliance. We realize that both women are far more intelligent and sensitive than the men perceive them to be. Hui-ran takes the screenwriter,
Kwak In-woo (
Cho Hyun-chul), under her wing; following his own sexual fantasies, he had penned a lifeless and false story, believing it to be of artistic delicacy. Hui-ran, however, inspires him to rewrite the narrative in a way that blends the erotic tale with the desired level of sophistication. Yet, this film is never born, as censorship intervenes, and citing this, Goo forces the entire original obscenity to be rewritten. Despite the two actresses putting the very best of their talent into it, the end result is shameful for them. Meanwhile, Goo coerces the novice actress into his secret games; Joo-ae goes along with it, yet she finds herself unable to carry out the "duty" imposed upon her. In the end, she narrowly escapes the ordeal, but she realizes the tribulations that lie behind Hui-ran’s glittering popularity. When a subsequent orgy results in the death of a young actress, Hui-ran reaches her breaking point and decides to expose the truth of what happens behind the scenes to the entire world.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
Another crucial moment is when Hui-ran finds the role she has wanted to play her entire life and fights for it with a renowned screenwriter Kwon Do-il (
Kim Jong-soo) who hesitates due to her acting background. Ultimately, it is thanks to this relationship that we are gifted the film noir sequence that brings the writing process to life.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
Countless characters and historical subplots color this main narrative, illuminating the darker wings of the film industry, the workings of the press and award ceremonies, and the world of favors asked and received. Every interconnected scene between
Madame Aema and
Aema can be interpreted separately from the differing perspectives of men and women, or even from a homoerotic viewpoint, often carrying symbolic content and being recontextualized. Thus, the horseback riding—visually representing intercourse—becomes the two women’s gallop toward freedom, occurring defiantly before the world at a pulsating traffic junction in the capital. Similarly, the sadistic lover is transformed into an erotically humiliated fetish object, publicly displayed and handed over to his wife.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
As historical fiction,
Aema seems to work backward in time by reflecting on the early 80s, but its greatest uniqueness is that it also looks forward toward our present. It is impossible not to notice that the orgies of the privileged do not merely evoke the 80s; they clearly mirror recent scandals (e.g.,
Burning Sun), a connection reinforced by musical references.
Aema, as a cinematic work, does not hold a high opinion of a social order built upon patriarchal-Confucian principles (or their distorted implementation) arranged by men. The moral canon that preaches the importance of family while creating gender inequality and sedating everyday, natural human sexuality has produced a pathological result. It has cultivated a "culture" of voyeurism and peeping behind a hypocritical surface, of which films like
Madame Aema were merely the precursors; the modes of invading human privacy or destroying entire lives truly exploded with the advent of the Internet. Despite this,
Aema is not a loudly feminist work; regardless of the summary points mentioned, it is not hostile toward men. As I see it, it is far more a powerful warning about the necessity of real change—a call for women to claim their place in fixing a world derailed by men.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
The series consists of only six episodes, and it seems almost impossible that the intellectual richness the drama possesses could be encapsulated in such a short duration. This is further enhanced by the cinematic visuals, which authentically and picturesquely evoke a former, still familiar yet already distant, retro atmosphere. The setting is perfect in every detail, from the smallest objects to the clothing and other accessories, down to the streetscapes. Even these are permeated by the film’s essential message, as everything is about hierarchy: from the creations of fashion designers to the stripping and primping of a "nobody" little actress for the "ritual of offering." The music for the drama is composed by
Dalpalan, who contributes to the period atmosphere and the creation of dramatic tension in total harmony with the imagery.
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| (Author’s screenshot from Aema.) |
The ruler of the drama is the divine Lee Hanee, and that is no exaggeration. Her every moment is sumptuous and demonic, as if she were a film noir vamp in real life. She transforms amazingly into the beautiful and sensual actress, even changing her speech to a refined, barely articulated pronunciation—there is no trace here of Lee’s natural, deep, resonant voice. Bang Hyo-rin is not as conventionally decorative, yet she grows into the role of the diva by changing step by step, while her erotic charisma is strong from the first moment. One can hardly even feel anger toward Jin Sun-kyu, who plays the producer, for his worldview; he exists within his prejudiced, thick-headed boorishness with such naturalness as if no other attitude existed in the world. Accordingly, foul language flows from his mouth like water from a tap—making this character, who seems familiar from many places, terrifyingly realistic. Their "throwing match" action scene with Hui-ran is a true cinematic treat.
Every character displays acting thoughtfulness and deep immersion; therefore, though I could list the big names, I shall not. Just as I wrote of the drama’s visuals, the same applies to the acting performances, which integrate seamlessly into the magnificent overall picture that Aema represents among the ranks of exceptionally successful dramas.
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