Make Less, Use More
Korean Dramas: Withering Amidst Abundance

K-dramas have never been this powerful in history. Top spots on global charts were filled with Korean-language works, and a single hit drama was consumed simultaneously across dozens of countries worldwide. Yet, in the same year, the number of dramas produced in Korea plummeted. The annual production volume—141 titles in 2022—fell to 123 in 2023, roughly 100 in 2024, and is projected to drop further to around 80 in 2025. In just three years, output has effectively been cut in half.

In Q4 2025, this figure could no longer be explained away as “due to the economy.” It signaled that the industry’s structure had passed a critical threshold. The paradox—where the most successful content industry is halting production at the fastest pace—is the single defining event of Korean dramas in the previous quarter.

The core cause is production costs. The average production budget for domestic dramas released between 2019 and 2024 reached approximately 34.4 billion won—roughly 3 billion won per episode—with 2 billion won per episode now considered the “baseline.” Compared to a decade ago, this represents a two- to fourfold increase. A significant portion of these costs is concentrated on a small number of top stars. Reports that lead actors’ per-episode fees exceed 1 billion won are no longer an exaggeration.

The problem is that these fees are set based on global box-office performance, yet the market expected to recoup them remains domestic. The gap is glaring when compared with Japan, where per-episode talent fees are reportedly around 100 million KRW. Once Netflix alone established a “global rate” that became the industry standard, production companies and broadcasters unable to afford that rate simply abandoned production altogether. While costs rise in tandem with box-office success, the platforms reap all the rewards of that success.

The terrestrial broadcasters were the first to feel this shock. Facing a sharp decline in advertising revenue and soaring production costs, broadcasters were unable to sustain their programming slots, leaving programming slots entirely vacant. SBS’s Thursday drama time slot disappeared, and cable general programming channels left their irregular drama slots completely empty for the entire year. These gaps were filled with reruns and so-called “patchwork programming.”

The three major terrestrial broadcasters have posted losses for three consecutive years, accumulating an operating deficit of about 117.4 billion won as of 2025. Not scheduling dramas has become a short‑term survival strategy. However, the disappearance of those slots means the loss of debut platforms for new writers, actors, and directors, cutting off the supply chain for the next generation. Defending today’s deficits will lead to a talent shortage tomorrow.

Of course, counterarguments are possible: since the number of productions has decreased, the quality and global visibility of each work have increased—so this is not a crisis but rather a healthy structural shift “from quantity to quality.” Indeed, Korean dramas’ global standing has never been higher.

However, this also means that capital becomes increasingly concentrated on a small number of proven stars and production companies. Diversity, experimentation, and the survival space for small and medium-sized producers are consequently narrowed. The fully revised Broadcast and Video Appearance Standard Contract, overhauled for the first time in 12 years on July 12, 2025—expanding its scope to include OTT platforms and requiring appearance fees even for material that is not broadcasted due to editing—advanced performers' rights, but it failed to address the runaway cost structure itself. The regulations spoke of fair distribution, while the market continued to neglect the soaring unit costs.

The question posed by Korean dramas in the fourth quarter of 2025 is simple: if the industry the world loves is produced the least in its own country, whose success is it really? Behind the dazzling global performance metrics, the capillaries of the production ecosystem—broadcast slots, small and medium‑sized production companies, and platforms for newcomers—were drying up rapidly.

Stagnation Amidst Abundance. Last quarter marked the first time the K-drama industry directly confronted not “how successful it has become,” but rather “how to sustainably share this success.” If the industry itself fails to rein in runaway production costs, the figure of 80 dramas will represent not a floor—but a milestone.