Korea's Image of Women: Endurers of Suffering?

I found an interesting correlation between the portrayals of women in the forms of Korean media we have studied thus far. It's pretty neat because it seems so different from what one would expect of a Korean (or any culture's) image of women… As the article on Feminism focused on "how and why popular culture and the mass media have dealt with women and their representations in an unfair, unjust and exploitative manner" (Strinati, 160), one might think of the usual stereotypes—domesticated house wife, dependent on males, helpless, weak, their bodies depicted as objects, etc.—of women. It's amazing, however, that I did not necessarily find these stereotypes as apparent in Chun-Hyang, Goong, and Soppyonje.

I was first struck by CLAMP's comic book rendering of the story of Chun-Hyang. The yang-ban’s son says "She may be the honorable mudang of koriyo, Wall Mae… but she is still just a woman" (CLAMP, 48), an obviously sexist thing to say. Immediately I thought, 'Is this the image of women in Japanese or Korean society?' But I came to realize that there was a whole different image contradicting this. An obvious side is how Chun-Hyang is illustrated as defying all cultural or stereotypical norms of a girl—being rambunctious, outspoken, daring, and independent… but that may have just been the comic book version of the story. From what I know of the "actual" (I don't know if there even is an "actual" story, hence the quotation marks, since I know so many different version of the story exist… so correct me if I'm wrong but…) tale, Chun-Hyang is forced to endure a lot of pain and suffering for choosing the "righteous" path—that is, remaining loyal to Mong-Ryong despite his absence and despite the temptations presented to her by the other government official. Also presented (in CLAMP's version of the story) is a parallel theme within Chun-Hyang's mother; despite the death of Chun-Hyang's father, Chun-Hyang's mother chooses to remain chaste, preferring suicide over remarriage.
Anyways, what I'm trying to get at is that there is this ongoing image of women and how they, throughout history, have had to endure much suffering (' han'?). More than having a typical sexist view of women as inferior, I find that a lot of the Korean media we have looked at in this course have, on the contrary, revered women for their strength and endurance of the sufferings and oppressions they have faced.

Look at another example, Goong. We have already discussed the element of self-sacrifice evident in the main heroine's decision to marry the prince, against her will, for the benefit of her family. This image of the female character is more respectable, than degrading (despite her having to live a "domestic" life in the palace or, in the drama's case, give up her dream of becoming a fashion designer).

Im Kwon-Taek's Soppyonje, I feel, epitomizes my observation. We see the dramatic climax in the final scene between Song-hwa and her brother and, as we discussed, the meaning of the word 'han'. I'd like to draw attention mostly to the parallel between her and her singing the p'ansori version of the Korean folktale of Simchong. Both Song-hwa and Simchong submit to a sacrifice of some sort in order to fulfill the duty of a filial daughter. It's interesting how in this tale, and many other Korean folk tales, women are portrayed as heroines or main characters (ex. Chun-Hyang or Chae-Kyung). Simchong They are regarded as heroines for their endurance and for their strength in the face of adversity.

I'd like to tie this in with a book I've read by Sook Nyul Choi, titled "Year of Impossible Goodbyes". Perhaps some of you have heard of it or even read it… if you haven't, I HIGHLY recommend it, it's a really easy read (I read it back in elementary school) but it's both interesting and informative. If you're into Korean history, it's definitely a must-read! ANYWAYS… to give you just a gist of it, the story follows the life of a young girl in Korea during Japanese colonization and all the adversities she and her family faced during this time. Her brothers are off at a training camp and her father is away at some resistance movement while she is at home with her mother and her aunt. Despite all the cruelties the Japanese soldiers impress upon them, these women endure and continue to struggle to survive without the presence of men to protect them. One scene in the book describes how the Japanese deceived the Korean citizens by selling them a sack of rice which was actually half filled with sand, making the sack seem heavier and more valuable. Throughout the story, the Japanese soldiers constantly harass the girl's mother and the women working in their sock factory, and in the end the women are taken away to be "comfort women"… etc… The novel is fiction, but the events are also autobiographical, which brings me to my next point.

In Korean culture, because of its history and background, there is an underlying understanding of the importance of women to society… perhaps the general population as a whole has a different outlook altogether compared to cultures that have not experienced these same events in their pasts.

What is Im Kwon Taek's deal?

I am completely shocked and appalled after watching Chuhyang the movie. I was excited after reading the comic – the Chun Hyang character so feisty and strong, portraying such a positive image of women. I was not expecting what I saw in the movie. I am hoping the different direction the movie took from the comic book is due to the need to please an older age group. Assuming that the movie was targeted to an older crowd (looking at the sex scenes), perhaps Im Kwon Taek thought in order for the storyline to be more relatable to his audience, stereotypical gender roles would have to be followed. This is good news for the younger generation, whereas in the comic book more pro-feminist characters are written.

In the comic book I was impressed that the two main female characters are indeed strong role models for girls. The mother is a highly respected medicine woman. She is extremely kind, opening her home to Myong Rong, and consistently supportive and affectionate of her daughter, Chun Hyang. The mother asserts herself and her own self-respect by killing herself when faced with the Yang Ban’s foreseeable rape. She raised Chun Hyang to be a strong, self-reliant girl even at a very young age. Never to be pushed around, Chun Hyang is always willing to speak up or physically fight when she does not agree with what is going on.

Unfortunately these powerful characters were not translated to the film. The mother is not a medicine woman, but instead a courtesan, a less than honorable position. The warmth of the comic book mother is gone, and she constantly reminds her daughter to submit to men in powerful positions. Chunhyang complies with her mother when Myong Rong asks her to marry him. She does not seem interested in him, pushing him away, having him forcibly remove her clothing. What surprised me the most was after they had sex, Chunhyang was suddenly in love with him! This sends a very dangerous message to viewers that there is nothing wrong with violence against women and that “no” really means “yes.” Along with their morbid courtship, I was sickened to see Chunhyang completely fall apart when Myong Rong told her he had to go to Seoul. She was weak, whiny, and perpetuating the stereotype that women are “emotional” and “crazy.” The only time Chunhyang had any strength in the movie was while being beaten for not sleeping with the new governor, she did not break down and give consent. Her strength came through her love and “duty to serve” her husband. The Chunhyang character sustains that women are subordinate to men, modest, and chaste.

What a disappointment the film was. Although I already speculated before why the comic book and movie contain such different storylines, why else would Im Kwon Taek choose this route?

Goong's Popular Wave

The fictional story of Goong is one that fascinated and enthralled Korean media viewers and readers with no prejudice to age. It is a story that "re-imagines" Korea, pretending that the Japanese Colonial period did not exist and that the Korean monarchy still reigned. This fiction glorifies what once used to be the Korean monarchy and with it the treasured but often neglected traditions of this prideful country.
It evokes nostalgia and pride for the older generation as they reminisce the time before they had to endure intrusion of the Japanese in their country. There is still a large number of Koreans who still feel passionately hateful towards the past Japanese Colonial period and wish that it had never happened; Goong fulfilled that wish. It is understandable why the older generation that would be expected not to be so zealous towards a drama or a comic book to be so heartwarming towards Goong and feel it to be such an endearing story.
Although the older generation feels a connection to the story of Goong, the younger generations who were born much after the Japanese Colonial period and would only learn of it from their parents or from textbooks were also intrigued with the drama. Of course they were attracted by the attractive actors in the drama or the beautiful drawings of the comic book and their generation is highlighted by the active media in their society, but if the content of the drama or the comic was substandard it is unlikely Goong would have drawn so much attention from them. The reason behind their adoration for the story could be traced to a trigger in their interest in their country's history for it arose not in the context of a tedious textbook, but a drama and a comic book, which they take up on their free time for their own enjoyment.
Goong called into importance the history of Korea, catching the attention of a wide range of audience. The older generation who remembered the Japanese Colonial period and wished to erase it from Korea's history felt a special connection to the story. The younger generation's interest was stirred by the resurrection of a distant time in their country's history they did not relate to and only learned about from older generations and from their schools. However, would this interest still be the same if the story of Goong was presented in the future when the older generation that could relate to this story was no longer existent and the younger generation no longer even heard about it from older generations? Would the younger generation feel it is too much of a distant past that does not seem relevant to them or even real to them? Also, is the story of Goong just something of a temporary interest like a new pop song by a new debuted artist?

Coffee Prince: Views on Gays in Korea

Just recently I finished a drama series that many people have heard of including my mom. (She's the one who suggested it to me.) The series is called "Coffee Prince" and is pretty much follows the (love)life of a girl who many mistake for boy and the opening of a coffee shop called the Coffee Prince.
This is a typical drama in the sense that there is a complex web of who likes who and the conflicts between all of those relationships. The twist in this movie is that the main character, who is a girl, is mistaken for a boy. A wealthy man (Han Kyul), who originally hires her Eun-Chan (thinking she's a man) to be his lover to get out of blind dates his grandmother sets up, hires her again (not knowing she's a woman) to work at Coffee Prince, and then falls in love with who he thinks is a man. Han Kyul is not gay but is falling in love with Eun-Chan thinking she is actually a he.
So Han Kyul tries to get over Eun-Chan because he doesn't want to be gay, but ends up professing his love to her. While the two are together Han Kyul still struggles with the fact that Eun-Chan is a man, but because he loves her so much, he's happy anyways. Then, he finds out that Eun-Chan is actually a girl. Of course he's initially upset because she lied to him about being a male so his trust in her takes a blow, but eventually he's happy to be with her as a woman. He keeps on saying "I'm glad you're not a man." when he finds out about her real gender.
I know Korea to be not conservative to gays, and I still think that generally holds true. Although Han Kyung professes he likes Eun-Chan when he thinks she's a guy, he's very relieved when he finds out otherwise. Yes the drama brings being homosexuality into the forefront, but it is something that seems to be dreaded in the drama as well as in the Korean culture. The drama shows that Korean pop culture has started to be more aware, but I have yet to be convinced that the culture is accepting of homosexuality.
What do you think?

Chastity and Chun Hyang

I found Clamp’s The Legend of Chun Hyang to be a fascinating representation of a Korean tale about chastity and loyalty. I was unsurprised to find that Chun Hyang had been injected with brimming self confidence and combat ability, because this makes her a classic comic book hero/heroine. However, I was somewhat puzzled by the manner in which the authors dealt with themes of chastity in the traditional telling of Chun Hyang. I was surprised that the authors chose to make Chun Hyang so young (fourteen), because her young age itself justifies her attitude towards sex in the comic book. When Mong Ryong (who is given no age but appears 5-10 years older) flirts with Chun Hyang, she seems perfectly justified in retorting the advances of this older guy. Chun Hyang’s reactions to Mong Ryong in relation to her mother and the bathing sisters make her appear juvenile more than they construct her as a role model. I have to wonder whether the authors consciously made Chun Hyang laughably disgusted with sex in parody of the traditional tale.

By contrast, in Im Kwon Taek’s film about Chun Hyang makes the themes of the tale more heartfelt by fleshing out Chun Hyang’s character. In the movie, Chun Hyang has the life of an ordinary person, and she is not above the actions and emotions of an ordinary person (as displayed by the sex scenes). What makes Chun Hyang a heroine is her ability to stay true to her emotions in spite of what other people try to force her to do. Im Kwon Taek’s film is primarily about loyalty and staying true to one’s values more than it is about sex.

On another note, after watching the movie of Chun Hyang, I noticed that the main character of the movie really seems to be the governor’s son, and that I felt much more in tune with the emotions and thoughts of the governor’s son than with Chun Hyang. I felt like there were more close up shots of the male characters, and that Im Kwon Taek revealed the governor’s son’s thinking and personality more than that of Chun Hyang. Did Im Kwon Taek have a reason to do this?

Asian Images

As I watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s and write this post I can’t help but think about our readings and discussions of the relation of a text and image. What exactly happens when we bring a piece of literature to the screen or television? Do we lose or do we gain? And what remains of the literature that was adapted?

Timothy Corrigan talks about fidelity to a text in adapting literature to a film. Adapters often want to create or recreate their own interpretation while still maintaining some semblance of faithfulness to a text. In looking at the difference between the films discussed in Corrigan’s essay and the T.V. series adaptation of Goong, I can’t help but wonder if the same standards of fidelity apply to TV as to film. Goong the comic book has so many images and details that it’s hard to image a completely faithful representation of the book on screen. Comic books may be excluded in this since the images are already interpreted for us by the drawings (where as in a novel there are no pictures). Do you think a lot is lost in the translation from one medium to another? Do we look at Goong the same after see the images interpreted for us on screen? And if we did create Goong into a film, would it bring a piece of literature in a “low culture” as Corrigan suggests? Would this be making the assumption that all literature is high culture or is only classical or canonical literature high culture?

Another note on images, when we read a piece from NYT a few classes back, the article mentioned that Japanese characters were drawn with Caucasian features, something we noted was true for the characters in Goong (big round eyes, lighter hair, etc). Characters that were bad or needed to be vilified were drawn with Asian features. So in adapting Goong for TV, shouldn’t the characters be much more anglo-looking? If Caucasian features are considered most desirable, then why don’t directors use more anglicized characters versus very Asian characters? Are the characters we saw on the Princess Hours considered anglicized Asians?

Breaking Down Goong as Pop Culture

I have to agree with Melanie in that, I am also very glad Goong was included in the syllabus for us to study. It was obviously very pleasurable to study as I had absolutely no problem “taking a break” from my other school work to spend extra time to finish the first episode on YouTube, and was able to breeze through the comic. :)

Throughout watching and reading Goong, the answers that came up in class regarding the question “What is pop culture?” proceeded to turn up in my mind. The mediums in which Goong is presented not only are forms of current Korean pop culture, but the very plot itself can be thought of as a result of pop culture.

We identified pop culture as something that is mass produced, and accessible to the general population. The forms of comic and television drama in which Goong is presented are clear mediums that are examples of this. We also defined pop culture as something that is directed toward a specific age group or group of people. My guess is that Goong is most appealing to the pre-, adolescent, and young adult populations, as the characters fashion current styles and use certain contemporary lingo and slang. And Goong is most definitely a work that evokes pleasure and a realm of escapism, as the story starts off with the creator allowing us to imagine a modern Korea with a monarchy. “Yes, let’s imagine… …Instead of an empty, cold palace… …One that is made vibrant by the lives of the royal family” (Park 3).

I guess what intrigued me the most, regarding the works of Goong being pop culture, was applying Raymond William’s definition of culture- defined as “a particular way of life of people or period of group”- to Goong. The story of Goong includes a historical culture of the Korean monarchy, and it’s interesting to see how the writer/creator incorporated this “particular way of life” into a modern time setting. For example, such traditions as the queen’s quarters being separated from the king’s quarters, and the formal discourse and language style used by the royal family are kept within the plot. But contemporary dress is combined with traditional dress, as the men seem to consistently wear suits, while the royal women are in tradition clothes. This merge of folk/historical culture and modern culture gave me a clearer idea of what pop culture could be defined as. If taking William’s definition into the context of Goong, it could be seen as taking a historical way of life and merging it with a contemporary way of life that creates a certain fusion that could be called pop culture. .?(Or am I stretching it a little too far?)


On another note, did anyone else have a hard time getting through High-Pop, “Style and Perfection of Things”? I really struggled with the text... hopefully we’ll cover it in class?

Goong: Gender, Tradition, and "Koreanness"

I am SO glad that Goong, both the graphic novel and the television show, were included on the syllabus! I found them both to be very enjoyable, funny, and fascinating to study. The issue of gender that was brought up in class (regarding the HOT and g.o.d music videos) is also relevant in relation to Goong (in both mediums.) In the comic, the young male characters are physically portrayed as feminine. Prince Shin Lee’s long, styled hair, his well-shaped eyebrows, long eyelashes, and voluptuous lips are all feminizing features. His cousin Yul is drawn similarly. However, the older men in the comic, such as the King and Chae- Kyung’s father, are portrayed as masculine. What does this say about what younger generations find attractive? During the counter culture revolution in America in the 60s, it was stylish for men to grow their hair long, as a form of rebellion and going against the grain. Is the same true today in Korea? Is appearing feminine a way for a younger generation of men to set themselves apart from their parents? Perhaps it is also a reflection of South Korea’s political situation. Unlike in previous eras, this generation of Korean young men are not growing up during wartime (such as the Korean War), or during major upheavals (like the Kuanju riots). Could the popularity of a feminine look for males stem from the fact that they are not being asked to prove their “manliness” through fighting in a war or demonstrations? This idea may be a bit of a stretch...

In the television version of Goong, it is true that both Prince Shin Lee and his cousin have long hair, but in appearance, they do not exude the same kind of femininity as they do in the comic book; however, it is still interesting to examine how some of the male characters act. Chae-Kung’s father is the most gender-bending character in the show. He wears a flowery apron, pink cleaning gloves, and is domineered by his over-bearing wife. The fact that his wife is supporting the family and he is the one who is responsible for their debt exhibits un- stereotypical gender roles for television. Goong the television show is very much female-centered, and has many powerful female characters. Chae-Kung’s mother leads the family, and only empresses rule the palace (excluding the Princes, all of the male royalty is dead). In the comic, Chae-Kung’s grandfather is alive and involved in the marriage arrangement, but his character is absent from the television show. Maybe this change reflects modernity- where as historical monarchies were usually very male centered, this monarchy reflects modern Korea and women's emerging power?

This leads to thoughts about “Koreanness.” Although Chae-Kung’s father is depicted as a bumbling, silly character on the television show, both versions of Goong express the traditional Korean value of filial piety. The reason for the Prince and Chae-Kung’s marriage is to honor a promise made by their grandfathers; yet, simultaneously, Goong also exhibits the idea of changing Korean values. Doobo Shim, in Hybridity and the Rise Of Korean Popular Culture in Asia, writes, “The fact that Seo Taiji was a high school dropout but managed to earn a social respect and succeed financially influenced parents’ ideas about stardom. In a country where the average family viewed university entrance examinations for children as being of utmost importance, stardom came to be considered a new option for success” (37). This phenomenon is reflected in the fact that in both the comic and the television show, Chae- Kung is a very poor student, and in the television show, she attends an arts school for those wanting to be artists, fashion designers, dancers, and filmmakers.


- Melanie Lubin

Populist-Elitist Paradox

While reading An Introduction to Theories of Popular Culture by Dominic Strinati this fall break, I began to wonder if the theories of populism and elitism are not a contradiction, but instead a paradox in constructing popular culture. The author describes that through populism, popular culture is not viewed as “an imposition, but as a more or less genuine expression of the voice of the people” (234). Populism understands popular culture gives the public what they are asking for. On the contrary, elitism is one theory that perceives the public as powerless to the influence of the media and popular culture. Strinati states “[elitism has] often seen audiences as full of passive unthinking dupes, open to manipulation and ideological control by the mass media and the culture they spread” (236). Through the elitist lens, there is a shift of power from the public to the media. Now we are amidst a battle – who is in charge of popular culture?

The new idea is that both, ordinary people and the influencing media are equally powerful but perhaps each group vests their interests in different aspects of popular culture. Strinati argues in a postmodern world, “we increasingly consume images and signs for their own sake rather than for their ‘usefulness’ or for the deeper values they may represent” (207). As a whole style and aesthetic appeal have become more and more important, swaying the public in what they choose to consume or not to consume. Possibly in packaging is where the “voice of the people” is being heard and represented. We want beautiful, thin, flexible pop stars. In our favorite television dramas, the characters are well-dressed and live in equally trendy apartments. The packaging has embodied exactly what we would want for ourselves. But as Strinati questioned earlier, what about the content?

As the public has created and satisfied itself with a lovely sense of style, I suggest that the mass media and larger institutions of power (government, churches, etc) have been able to fill are beautifully crafted vessels with whatever they choose. Popular culture in America is still loaded with messages promoting a patriarchal, white dominance. That issue is too large to delve into here, but in the diverse culture we live in, I question that those are messages the public demanding. It seems like an ideal opportunity for the dominant culture to sneak in and fill the empty space with its own agendas.

The populist-elitist paradox is maybe nothing more than supply and demand. It will be interesting to see whether the public takes complete control of popular culture, fully realizing the populism theory, to demand more than good-looking outer appearances.

Modern Concepts and Traditional Views - Personal Contemplation

“If the Pop Art period was, to a great extent, a matter of academy-trained artists taking forms of popular iconography into the rarified realm of museum art, high-pop represents the reversal of that flow by transforming Culture into mass entertainment” (Collins, 6).

As I read this statement in Jim Collins’s High-Pop, I immediately thought of G.O.D.’s music video of their song To My Mother. As Im Kwon-Taek used Sopyonje to acknowledge and modernize p’ansori, it seems that G.O.D. is using their music and popularity to keep Korean tradition alive. The song’s undertones of Confucianism, a defining part of Korean culture over the centuries, mixed in with the very urban, hip sounding music results in a unique Korean ‘high-pop’ sensation.

Contrast that with H.O.T.’s Candy. It obviously has no cultural significance, only aesthetic appeal… Right? I may be looking too far into this, or giving the boys more credit than they deserve, but I think that they’re almost a rebellion—straying as far from the cultural norm as acceptably possible (they don’t want to be too extreme, though, that would lose them their audience). First, take a look at the group members. Do any of them look masculine at all? No. One of the most appealing features of H.O.T. is their androgyny. Even the female that appears in the music video for Candy looks somewhat androgynous, with a curve-less body and a masculine jaw structure. Not to mention the western origins of the woman. It seems to me that Candy’s music video is the antithesis of translation tradition, nationalism, etc. in Korean culture.

With that in mind, I find it slightly ironic that H.O.T. and G.O.D. were rival boy bands. It’s almost as if the bands represented different political standings of that decade’s youth. G.O.D., the slightly conservative conformists, and H.O.T., the rebellious counter culture.

Differing Definitions of Nationalism in the Global Age

The content of the article read in class about Japanese comic books portraying Chinese and Korean populations negatively ties in a lot with chapter five of Im Kwon-Taek. In the age of globalization, the Japanese response has recently been to try to prove their own culture’s worth by painting other nations as inferior to them. In this way, Japan attempts to define its own sense of nationalism in a fast-paced and competitive industrialized world by claiming that they, as Asians, are far more like Western nations; therefore, they are superior to other Asian nations, and worthier of the fruits and successes of Western living. The negative effects of this course of action are that it is ironically degrading to the entire Asian continent, the Japanese included. In essence, rather than trying to define themselves as differentiated from (though perhaps not superior to) other Asian countries, the Japanese are insisting that they are really a part of the West, thus denying their heritage to a certain extent. In this way, they consider the attainment of Western ideals to be their goal, thus implying the West’s superiority.
The Korean nationalism described in “Sopyonje: Its Cultural and Historical Meaning” runs in a direction that is both diametrically opposite yet strangely similar in its ideology. The movie Sopyonje inspired “nostalgia for ‘our culture’” (p. 140) in Koreans at a time, the 1990’s, when the Korean movie and television industry had experienced a decline (p. 137). However, with this nostalgia comes the temptation to define one’s culture in ethnocentric terms of what the West does not have (p. 142-143). In this way, one still allows culture to be controlled by the Other. If all Korea can aspire to be is what the West lacks, then there can hardly be any room for original development and Korean identity becomes merely a silhouette of opposition to the West. Furthermore, what about all of the positive technological advances being imported from the West? Are they to be shunned by the Korean population? Doing so perhaps implies that technology and modernization are distinctly Western in character and cannot be comprehended by Koreans, rather than that Westerners merely invented some tools first which can then be expanded upon by Koreans.
In essence, it seems that a culture must be developed in independence of but not isolation from those of other cultures. A country should not try to instate an identity based on the denigration of other countries, especially those that share commonalities with it. Doing so merely implies that the Western identity is the more favorable one and that only the “fittest” Asian culture is worthy of that identity. A country also must not define itself in opposition to the West as that also gives Western ideals hegemony, in that they dictate what is not allowed in Eastern cultures. Ultimately, a culture should strive to see itself not in terms of what is Eastern or Western about it, but rather try to harmonize between modernization and tradition, retaining what it prizes while shifting to accommodate progressive changes that will benefit its people economically and technologically.

Traditions, Globalization, and Nationalism

Inventing Traditions by Eric Hobsbawm was an extremely interesting article and gave me a lot to think about in light of the other readings. Cho Hae Joang’s article on Sopyonje stated that “…the desire to find tradition and, within changed circumstances, revive it.” (138). This made me think, can a tradition that was “lost” be found and revived in the customary sense or does it become an invented tradition?

It’s important to define invented tradition, which Hobsbawm says is something which invokes or represents the past but is presented in a novel or new situation. A custom would be more of a historical ritual without the change in context. Does this mean that reviving p’ansori in a new and globalized culture makes it an invented tradition?

Also intriguing is the desire to revive a dead or dying custom at all. Like the step son in Sopyonje, it can seem pointless to perform an art which there is no longer a demand for. The art may have changed or disappeared completely, but there is no reason to continue a medium which essentially doesn’t exist anymore.

I think that the almost-debate going on here about nationalism and globalism can sort of be understood through the idea of invented tradition. As globalism takes hold, a nation and culture changes. This in turn can inspire a revival for more traditional culture, inventing traditions if you will. People begin practicing their old traditions in a new environment and perhaps in a modified way (for example, using modern amplification techniques when performing p’ansori) and invent a tradition. You can celebrate your national culture and identity through this created ceremony. It’s sort of like the hybridization that we read about a few classes ago. I don’t think nationalism and globalism have to be at odds.

But this does raise another question, if it is true that when an environment changes and a new tradition is revived or invented which invokes or represents the past, can we really hang on to any of our customs in their true forms?

Any thoughts?

Analyses of P'ansori Contradicting Gi Wook-Shin's Paradox of Korean Globalism

Contrary to Melanie, I actually found it even more difficult to agree with Gi-Wook Shin’s The Paradox of Korean Globalization after reading Im Kwon-Taek. Shin’s argument is basically that Korea’s desire to globalize goes hand-in-hand with Korean nationalism. Shin’s point on “nationalist appropriation of globalization” discusses how nations aim to globalize is, in Social Darwinist terms, a way of ensuring well-being of the nation… meaning that these opposite ideas are both goals of the same journey. Yet the two ideas are such polar opposites that it is not paradox but impossibility... It makes sense, yes, but it just seems far-fetched. It’s like saying, “I do not enjoy tobacco. I will rid the world of tobacco by smoking all the cigarettes in the world until there are none left.” (Excuse my lack of a better analogy…) Is Shin arguing that the two concepts of globalization and nationalism can be one in the same? Because I can still only think of the two different entities as black and white with no grey area in between.

In Chapter 5 of the reading in Im Kwon-Taek, we learn a little more about the movie and its plot in more detail, beyond the short clip we’ve seen in class--which shows the boy and girl being trained by their father. We learn that the boy leaves home because he sees p’ansori as financially unbeneficial and a way of the past, while the daughter/father remain faithful to the art. The boy holds the mindset of those in favor of globalization in a gradually westernizing society. In a sense, the boy can represent globalization as a whole while the girl represents nationalism--sticking to her roots and traditions. The two are separate, conflicting entities.

The movie then follows with the brother’s search for his sister again… After having been torn from his roots (the nationalism symbolized by the girl), perhaps he understands that there is something missing from his life, a part of him he left behind when he left his family. On a larger scale, it means that with globalism, it is inevitable for a piece of one’s national identity to be lost in the process. Yet in the end of the movie, the brother and sister part without even knowing one another’s identity… in the end, they are not united even after the brother’s search for her. It is a strange ending, yes, but it makes sense in this interpretation. Ultimately, the brother and sister cannot live an existence together… their values, their beliefs, their beings are too different. They cannot coexist.

I do, however, understand and agree Shin’s argument that “globalization can also awake people to their own local/national culture” (Shin, 9), as in the case with Im Kwon-Taek’s film. The boy’s search for his sister is a result of his decision to sacrifice his past way of life in order to start a new “modern” one. But can anything be done about it after the deed is done? Indeed “National identity becomes more important as globalization proceeds” (Shin, 9). This argument is legitimate, and even confirmed by what we have read from this week’s reading of Im Kwon-Taek. However, my interpretation of this relationship between the two ideas differ. While Shin argues that Globalization can promote Nationalism, the only way I can see that happening is if people realize how detrimental the former can be to the latter, leading to an attempt to counter the process of globalization as a whole to return to one’s roots. In this case, the two ideas are still contradictory… they may share a cause-and-effect relationship, but never a unified, mutual relationship.

Availability and High Pop

After reading High-Pop: An Introduction, I became much more aware of the integral part that marketing techniques and accessibility play in creating popular culture. Author Jim Collins explained how the manner in which products and people are marketed in combination with technology creates culture that is popular due to its availability. I was especially struck by Collins’ example of “opera stars…promoted like pop stars but singing the classical repertoire”(Collins 8). Classical music is a prime example of the elitist culture, which is seemingly completely contrary to popular culture. However, performers within the realm of a roped off culture can break into the mainstream with the right marketing techniques. Without a website, print stories, and music in digital format, any artist would have trouble succeeding in today’s market. However, by utilizing the available technology and putting products out in the public’s view, artists that would have been ignorantly passed over can reach out and develop a fanbase. In fact, classical music has been able to thrive online with the help of music download services like iTunes. Sales statistics have shown that classical music has been able to increasingly turn a profit because the Internet makes it more accessible.
(See http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/28/arts/music/28kozi.html?_r=1&oref=slogin).Without high ticket prices and social stigmas, the Internet has make listening to classical music an equal opportunity pastime.

Additionally, I believe the example of classical music can be easily translated to the so-called “Korean wave”. Marketing and the Internet allow Korean artists to project their work out into the world and find audiences beyond their home country. The film Sopyonje made p’ansori performances more marketable, thanks to Im Kwon-Taek, who made a touching, well made film that found audiences across the world. By using a mainstream medium, film, to raise awareness about p’ansori and Korean traditions, Im Kwon-Taek successfully made those traditions more appealing to his audience. The example of the film Sopyonje makes me think that seemingly any tradition or product can be made popular with the right approach. I am much more aware that it may not be the products or ideas themselves, but rather the way they are marketed which determines their popularity, and the manner in which they are regarded by the masses, the elite, and the critics.

National Pride, Globalization, and Im Kwon- Taek

As I read the first chapter in Im Kwon- Taek: The Making Of A Korean National Cinema , I found myself perpetually thinking back to Gi- Wook Shin’s The Paradox Of Korean Globalization. In her essay, Shin argues that globalization and nationalism in Korea are by no means contradictory phenomena, but rather, the two forces coexist and compliment each other. Shin writes, “Koreans see no inherent contradiction between nationalism and globalization… Koreans initiated and pursued globalization from with a clear nationalistic agenda from the outset” (Shin, 6). She goes on to explain that expressions and feelings of national and cultural pride go on the rise as a response to a globalizing society. In Korea, this has surely been the case. Reading in depth about Im Kwon- Taek’s success helped me to better understand Shin’s theory, for the popularity and hype over his period-piece films exemplify the cohesive relationship between globalization and national pride.

Having never seen a film by Im Kwon- Taek (excluding the clip of Sopyonje shown in class), I am eager to after James’ and Kim’s descriptions of some of his works. In particular, I am intrigued by the Korean landscape shots that Im is known for. These shots are mechanisms not only for beautifying the film, but also for “showing of ” Korea’s natural attributes, and therefore eliciting pride from the Korean audience. These shots do not included foreign cars, McDonald’s, or skyscrapers in the background, but instead, bring viewers to a “less threatening”, non globalized world. Im’s most famous works (and most popular with the people of Korea) are his period pieces, films that transport the audience to simpler time. James et. al states this perfectly: “Im’s field of dreams was not the future but the nostalgic past, a pre modern universe where the values of tradition, nation, and family remained intact and united” (37). It is explained in Im Kwon- Taek that many of Im’s famous historical works were released after 1986, the year that foreign film companies were allowed to set up shop in Korea, thus creating an influx of Hollywood films. I believe that this information solidifies the thesis presented by Shin, for Im’s pride-prompting films gained popularity at a time when Koreans were being bombarded with outside information and imagery.

On a completely different note, I would like to add to Beth’s discussion on pop culture and pleasure. In Watching Dallas, Ang writes, “No attempt will be made to give the definitive answer to the burning question: why is Dallas so popular? Instead, I want to concentrate my attention on a phenomenon, one aspect of popularity which is in itself complex enough: pleasure” (6). I suppose the question now becomes, “why do certain cultural products/ media forms illicit pleasure?” In terms of Korean cinema, I believe Im Kwon -Taek’s films were pleasurable not only because they were expressions of national pride, but also because of the escapism that they provided (perhaps the same escapism that Dallas provided for fans all over the world?) In Korea, for example, harsh times coincided with the popularity of film. James et. al write, “Cinema was the most popular cultural medium of nationalist expression during the Japanese colonial period” (20). Perhaps retreating mentally to another (better?) place or time is a driving force behind popular culture.


- Melanie Lubin

Meaning and Pleasure

Brian Longhurst’s article on “Text & Meaning” in Popular Music and Society and Ien Ang’s piece Watching Dallas have an interesting point of intersection in that they discuss the two most fundamental points of evaluation for cultural material: meaning and pleasure. To begin with, while Longhurst states that his article “is concerned with the ways in which pop music creates and conveys meaning” (Longhurst, 158), he does not give a definition of what meaning is, but rather seems intent to challenge how meaning is evaluated and analyzed through the decoding of structure and content of a cultural medium. Ang, in contrast, gives the sociological definition of pleasure as “the experience of satisfaction whenever a certain pre-existent need is fulfilled” (Ang, 9). Her article is more oriented with why so many people find Dallas pleasurable to watch. More provocatively, Ang then goes on to explain her “ambivalence” about soap operas such as Dallas due to her intellectual and feminist sensibilities, while also admitting that she has always enjoyed such shows (Ang, 12). She feels that she should not find pleasure in Dallas because it does not contain enough “meaning”. Thus, Ang’s definition of meaning seems to be related to the degree to which a particular medium has substance and divorces itself from the realm of superficial.

Longhurst takes up this point in his article when he discusses “value-laden terms” in musicology” (Longhurst, 158), which despite having the same definitions as other standard terms while carrying more favorable connotations. In this way, certain genres of music, namely Western classical music, have been traditionally deemed to have more meaning than other genres such as popular music. The very nature of being classical implies that something has some special meaning which has enabled it to endure the passage of time and still be present in culture. The nature of something popular implies pleasure; it must be enjoyable in order for mass consumption to occur. Yet the question remains, must a cultural artifact have a certain level of intrinsic meaning in order for it to be popular? My own mind is not yet made up, but it is certainly a notion worth further consideration.

Reading Comics response

Reading Comics by Mila Bongco has really got me thinking. Has the dominant culture created popular culture, using popular culture as a control device to keep itself dominant in society? Popular culture is not taken seriously – it is discredited due to its consumerist rather and artistic interests and its lack or rebellion of “standard American” morals and values. Popular culture, like comic books, is aimed towards the masses and as Bongco explains that “its generally accessibility (contrary to catering to a ‘cultured’ or ‘cultivated’ few) […] is characterized as unsophisticated and hence easy to cater to” (25). Popular culture is again devalued with the notion the mature and intelligent would not be bothered with such related mediums.

Combining the unimpressive packaging and delivery of popular culture with messages that contradict the ideology of the dominant culture, it is easy for the messages to be swiftly discredited as well. Bongco leads me to question that perhaps popular culture “[has been] ‘framed,’ their voice and arguments distorted and labeled as deviant and wrong, in such a way as to depoliticize them” (26). If values and ideas of popular culture are dismissed and presumed as immoral and incorrect, it can be assumed that the opposite values and ideas, or the values and ideas of the dominant culture would in fact be true. By placing oppositions and arguments against the ideologies of the “standard American” culture in a forum that can be easily challenged then rejected, the dominant culture can be perceived as superior by default.

Could this be the purpose for popular culture and not for the mediocre entertainment it is projected to be? Even the question reminds us to continue to think critically and examine more closely what the media, government, or other institutions are handing us. Quoting Bongco one last time, why aren’t we questioning “other major institutions of communication such as the Church, or the Law, whose legitimacy and responsibility seem to be taken for granted” (31)?