There was a time when any great international actor tended to be reduced to their perceived Hollywood counterpart whenever they were discussed in the U.S. press. Under this outmoded prerogative, Korean screen icon Song Kang-ho easily could be described as his country’s simultaneous answer to both Marlon Brando and Tom Hanks, such is his seemingly contradictory blend of sardonic physicality, fearsome technique, lyrical humanism and overwhelming likability. Today, thankfully, it is sufficient to simply describe Song Kang-ho as Song Kang-ho: “One of the protean greats of world cinema — a master, end of,” as Tilda Swinton, a co-star with Song in Bong Joon Ho’s Snowpiercer (2013), once summed him up in an interview with The Hollywood Reporter.
For global movie buffs, arguably one of the most exciting stories of the past 30 years has been the renaissance and growing global reach of Korean cinema — and no figure has been more central to that movement than Song. Many major actors of film history have, of course, benefited from special directorial partnerships — think Scorsese-De Niro (or Scorsese-DiCaprio), Kurosawa-Mifune, Herzog-Kinski, or even John Ford-John Wayne. Song is no different, except that he has played the role of go-to muse for no fewer than four of South Korea’s greatest living auteurs: Bong (2020 best picture Oscar winner Parasite, Snowpiercer, The Host, Memories of Murder — all starring Song), Park Chan-wook (Song projects include Thirst, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Joint Security Area), Kim Ji-woon (The Quiet Family, The Foul King, The Age of Shadows, Cobweb) and the esteemed art house favorite Li Chang-dong (Green Fish, Secret Sunshine).
Although he’s only 56 and says he intends to keep acting into his 80s, Song’s performances have encompassed corrupt cops, gangsters, slackers, heroes, a North Korean foot soldier, a pro wrestler, a cowboy, an emperor, a taxi driver, a drug kingpin, a barber, a film director, a vampire and much more.
To introduce some of this staggeringly diverse work to a wider U.S. audience, the Academy Museum will screen 14 of Song’s most acclaimed films in a retrospective running Dec. 7 to Jan. 13. Song will be present in Los Angeles for in-person conversations after four of the screenings.
Like all true movie stars, Song can be something of a cipher in interviews, warm and gracious but also eager, with his toothy grin and reflexive charm, to glide past more probing questions. He began his career as a serious stage actor in Seoul in the 1990s and for more than five years declined his first opportunities to appear in films or on TV series. All these years later, his approach to his craft remains simple, he says.
“I go back to thinking about acting in the theater,” Song explains. “Being able to persuade the audience — even if it’s just one person you’re telling a story to — I define this as the tipping point between good and bad acting.”
As to how movie stardom has changed his method over the years, Song says: “These days, for any new film project, rather than focusing on disappearing into the role itself, I think about how my persona would come across if I was that new character. It’s a bit like how veteran singers don’t try to change their voice when they sing someone’s song, but rather they interpret the song in their own way.”
This story first appeared in the Nov. 29 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.