The theater empties,
and trophies pile up.
The crisis facing Korean cinema is not the aftermath of the pandemic, but rather the permanent departure of audiences. While its global standing has soared to an all-time high, the domestic market has quietly collapsed.
The two most common excuses surrounding Korean cinema are: “The aftereffects of COVID-19 haven’t yet subsided,” and “There simply aren’t many well-made films these days.” Both are easy to hear—because each assumes the problem will resolve itself with time or better films. Yet both excuses collapse before a single fact: theaters in the U.S. and Europe, which experienced the same virus, have already recovered to 70–80% of their 2019 levels.
If the recovery clock has stopped—exclusively in Korea—the cause lies outside the virus. In Q1 2026, theater attendance stood at approximately 31.9 million, just 58% of the 55.07 million recorded in the same period in 2019. Cumulative attendance for the first half of 2025 totaled roughly 42.49 million—the lowest first-half figure since 2004, excluding the pandemic years. This is not the picture of a market recovering slowly; it is the picture of a market where audiences have decided not to return.
When the Korean Film Council asked why audiences were leaving theaters, the top answer wasn’t the quality of the films or COVID‑19. It was the cost of admission (25.1%). It’s understandable. Weekend tickets for regular screens have risen from 12,000 won in 2019 to 15,000 won after three consecutive hikes, and the number of premium screens has tripled—from 382 in 2020 to 1,152 in 2024—driving up the average spend per patron. This happened within an oligopoly where CGV, Lotte, and Megabox control 449 of the 459 multiplexes (97.8%). Consequently, in 2024 a citizen group filed a complaint with the Fair Trade Commission, alleging ticket‑price collusion and profiteering.
An intriguing paradox is that even businesses that raised their prices are running deficits. Megabox has posted losses for five consecutive years; Lotte Cinema’s revenue dropped by 41.4%; and the historic Daehan Theater ultimately closed its doors. Raising prices only accelerates the decline in audiences—a lose-lose game for everyone. This is not a temporary slump but a classic symptom of a market where both pricing power and consumer trust have simultaneously collapsed.
In 2025, there were zero ten-million-attendance films in Korea. That year’s box office champion was the Japanese anime *Demon Slayer: Infinity Castle Arc* (5.68 million), while Korean films’ market share plummeted to a record low of 43.7%. Among domestic releases, only two films surpassed the three-million-attendance mark: *Zombie Daughter* (5.63 million) and *The Opposition* (3.37 million).
A more fundamental collapse occurred not at the top but at the waist. The number of commercially released films with production budgets exceeding 3 billion won dropped from 45 in 2019 to just 30 in 2025, and only six of those managed to break even. “Human,” which cost 23.5 billion won, stalled at 1.98 million admissions—far short of its 4-million-break-even point. “The 2–3 million-audience market vanished long ago”—this lament from industry insiders is no exaggeration. In a market where only a “ten-million-hit” guarantees success—and anything less spells total failure—film investment has effectively become a lottery.
Designation: Overseas
The space where theaters once stood has been taken over by OTT, both in capital and manpower. As platform investment grows, funding for theatrical films dries up, making it commonplace that “even commercial genre movies can’t secure investment.” Directors like Lee Chang‑dong are moving to Netflix originals, and SBS signed a six‑year exclusive supply contract with Netflix. The flow of talent and money has shifted.
The paradox reaches its climax here. At the same time, Yoon Ga-eun’s “Owner of the World” became the first Korean film invited to the competition section of the Toronto International Film Festival. It’s being praised abroad, but losing audiences at home. Of course, measures such as legalizing the hold‑back system and creating a fund worth around 100 billion won are being discussed, yet their effectiveness is doubtful. The question remains unresolved: can the demand that has already vanished be restored by prescribing supply‑side solutions?
What is currently happening in the Korean film industry is an event involving three simultaneous structural shifts: a permanent shift in audience habits, pricing and premium-theater entry barriers imposed by dominant theater chains, and the hollowing-out of mid-budget films due to capital and talent fleeing to OTT platforms. Neither holdbacks nor funds can restore demand itself once it has collapsed. So long as the system that encourages the “10-million-viewer gamble”—dominant distribution, screen concentration, and premium pricing—remains untouched, any remedy will merely delay symptoms.
So, finally, two questions remain open: Will theaters ultimately abandon their role as a mass medium and shrink into “premium experiential content”? And is the myth of the “10-million-viewer film watched by all Koreans” already obsolete language from a bygone era? The longer we see trophies piling up overseas while domestic theater seats remain empty, the more we may find ourselves watching—live—as an entire industry walks into a museum.