Three decades after a rat bit a German programmer in a darkened theater and organizers desperately begged for sponsors, the Busan International Film Festival (BIFF) has transformed into Asia's most prestigious cinematic event. What began as an unlikely dream in South Korea's second-largest city has grown into the continent's premier showcase for filmmakers, though recent challenges have tested its resilience.

The festival's humble beginnings in 1996 were marked by chaos and determination in equal measure. When German film programmer Erika Gregor shrieked in a theater after a rat bit her foot that September, it became an enduring symbol of BIFF's scrappy origins. For weeks afterward, moviegoers watched films to the soundtrack of meowing cats that organizers had released to hunt down the rodents. The idea that this makeshift event would become Asia's leading film festival seemed as unlikely as Korea winning an Oscar – both would eventually become reality.

The festival's story began two years earlier when a small group of film professionals and academics started pitching their ambitious vision. Lee Yong-kwan from Gyeongseong University, the late Kim Ji-seok from Busan Arts College, and critic Jeon Yang-joon made the rounds, trying to convince anyone who would listen. In 1994, Korea barely registered on the global cultural map, and Busan even less so.

Kim Dong-ho, a career civil servant with decades of experience in the culture ministry, agreed to lead the operation after hearing their proposal. Now 88, he recalls the skepticism they faced with vivid detail. "When I told people I'd taken the job, my friends who knew the film business were like – don't do it," he says. "They kept saying, 'If they can't make it work in Seoul, how are you going to pull off an international festival in Busan?'"

The organizers spent 1996 in a frantic search for financial backing. "I met with literally everyone. Got turned down by basically everyone, too," Kim recalls. They eventually secured funding from major entities, including the now-defunct conglomerate Daewoo. The first edition screened 173 films from 31 countries at the Suyeongman Yachting Center overlooking the harbor, with Mike Leigh's "Secrets & Lies" opening the festival. Brenda Blethyn, fresh off her best actress win at Cannes, gave a press conference on a boat – a publicity stunt designed to highlight Busan's identity as a port city.

Despite technical hiccups and rodent problems, the festival immediately captured something special. What attendees remember from those early years wasn't just the film programming, but the jubilant chaos that erupted every night. After each day's screenings, Busan's coastal strip transformed into one massive, booze-soaked celebration, with tented bars lining the beach where filmmakers and movie lovers mingled and drank until dawn.

Kim Jung-sun, now a film professor at Dongseo University in Busan, was an aspiring film student during those pioneering days. "The energy was unreal," he remembers. "You could meet Tsai Ming-liang, see his new work, bump into Jeanne Moreau. For anyone who loved movies, it was this release valve for everything we'd been desperate to see."

By its 10th anniversary in 2005, BIFF had expanded dramatically to 307 films, consistently drawing around 200,000 attendees. A year earlier, Time magazine had declared it Asia's premier festival. The event had become Korean cinema's crucial gateway to the international circuit – before BIFF, only three Korean films had ever made it to Cannes, but afterward, four or five were selected annually.

The festival also opened unprecedented opportunities for filmmakers across Asia. Its Asian Cinema Fund, established in 2007, provides development and post-production support for independent features throughout the continent. The Asian Contents & Film Market became the region's primary hub for buying, selling, and financing movies. In 2011, the festival moved to the architecturally ambitious Busan Cinema Center in Centum City, Haeundae-gu's sprawling urban center.

"BIFF basically created Korean cinema's international presence," explains Kim Jung-sun. "Before this, Korean audiences saw movies as entertainment, period. The festival changed that – made them see it as art."

However, BIFF's growing influence eventually put it in the crosshairs of national politics. In 2014, the festival programmed "The Truth Shall Not Sink With Sewol," a documentary alleging government mishandling of the ferry disaster that killed over 300 people, mostly high school students on a field trip. Busan Mayor Suh Byung-soo, a close ally of conservative then-President Park Geun-hye, tried to block the screening along with other city officials.

When the film showed anyway, retaliation was swift and severe. The Busan city government slashed funding by half, and Festival Director Lee Yong-kwan was indicted on embezzlement charges in what many viewed as a politically motivated attack. In January 2016, he stepped down. "Sure, the documentary was biased," says a former festival official. "But so what? Once the festival picks a film, that's it – you screen it."

Film organizations across the country called for boycotts, while support poured in from overseas, with festival programmers and film critics worldwide rallying behind BIFF's independence. An internal probe into the Culture Ministry in 2018 under the subsequent liberal Moon Jae-in administration confirmed what everyone had long suspected: The Park government had orchestrated a pressure campaign through the ministry and Busan's city officials.

The aftermath created lasting divisions within BIFF's leadership. Hard-liners called for total boycotts, while moderates pushed for negotiation. When Kim Dong-ho and actor Kang Su-yeon stepped in to manage the crisis in 2016, they faced accusations of being government stooges for opposing the boycott. Both stepped down in 2017. Kim defends his decision to keep the festival running: "Look at any festival worldwide – once it stops, even for a year, it never really comes back. You can't let it stop. That's just how it is."

Even after Park's removal and Moon's election as South Korea's president, the festival couldn't escape internal dysfunction. Lee Yong-kwan returned as chairperson in 2018 despite his conviction, but critics accused him of packing the board with allies and running BIFF like his personal operation – claims he denied in a June 2023 press conference. That same month, 18 film organizations demanded resignations from the festival's top leadership, and both Lee and operations director Cho Jong-kook stepped down.

"It was worse than the Sewol mess," according to a former BIFF official. "Just this endless cycle of power grabs and misunderstandings. Everyone watching was like, 'This festival's completely lost it.'" Since 2024, Park Kwang-su, a founding member, has been leading the organization.

The COVID-19 pandemic brought new challenges when it halted the global festival circuit in 2020. While Cannes canceled outright and Venice ran at half-capacity, Busan faced the same difficult decisions. When South Korea's COVID-19 cases spiked in August 2020, BIFF organizers pushed the 25th edition back two weeks to avoid the country's Chuseok holiday travel surge. Major events were canceled, including opening and closing ceremonies, and each film screened once instead of three times.

"We agonized over whether we should go ahead at all," then-Chair Lee Yong-kwan told reporters that September. The 2021 edition brought back limited in-person events, including six Actor's House sessions and a masterclass with Leos Carax. The Asia Project Market ran as a hybrid event, with international participants joining virtually while Korean attendees met in person wearing masks. A testing frenzy erupted when one participant tested positive after the festival, though everyone else tested negative.

Attendance in 2021 stood at 76,072 – a respectable figure given 50 percent capacity limits, though far below the quarter-million crowds of previous years. By 2022, BIFF had returned to full operations with international guests flying in again, parties resuming, and outdoor screenings returning. The festival screened 242 films from 71 countries, drawing 161,000 attendees – still below pre-pandemic numbers but enough to signal that one of Asia's biggest film events had weathered the storm.

This year marks a significant departure for BIFF as it introduces something never attempted in its three decades: competition. After 29 years as a non-competitive showcase, the festival will award prizes to 14 Asian films. It's a risky gamble that has industry watchers nervous, particularly since the festival runs September 17-26, right after the Venice and Toronto film festivals. Filmmakers seeking world premieres will almost certainly choose those established heavyweights over Busan's untested competition section.

"Competition's a completely different game," explains Oh Dong-jin, a film critic and former BIFF board member who co-directed the Asian Film Market in 2019. "You can't just grab films that already premiered somewhere else. You need to really hunt for the undiscovered stuff, especially across Asia."

Another major challenge facing BIFF is the growing dominance of streaming platforms and what that means for film festivals trying to stay relevant. The question of whether festivals should premiere Netflix films that bypass theaters entirely has divided the global circuit. Since 2021, BIFF has featured a section dedicated to streaming content called "On Screen." The festival surprised everyone last year by opening with Netflix's "Uprising," co-written and produced by Park Chan-wook. This year brings more streaming titles, including Guillermo del Toro's "Frankenstein" and Byun Sung-hyun's "Good News," both Netflix productions.

While purists hate the streaming integration and pragmatists shrug, most attendees simply want to enjoy great movies regardless of their distribution method. "The thing is, BIFF has this identity – it's the Asian film festival," says Kim Jung-sun. "Sure, Western festivals don't ignore Asian cinema anymore, but we're still the minority there. Where else do Asian films get to be the main event? Where else do they get presented with this kind of understanding, this investment in what they're actually about? Nowhere. Just Busan."

Kim Dong-ho, who steered the festival through its scrappy beginnings, remains optimistic about BIFF's future despite all the challenges it has faced. "When I talk to filmmakers now, everyone pretty much agrees: Good movies find their way to theaters. Festivals, too," he says. "They're celebrations, you know? Where audiences actually meet filmmakers, actors, everyone. I think we'll be fine. We'll keep going."