Director Lee Sang-il wants people to stop focusing on his Korean heritage when discussing his record-breaking film success. "Don't take it so seriously," Lee says, dismissing questions about what it means for a Zainichi Korean director to create Japan's biggest movie of the year. His kabuki epic "Kokuho" has become a phenomenal success, drawing over 12 million viewers since June and earning 17 billion yen ($110 million), making it 2025's standout phenomenon in Japanese cinema.
The film is expected to surpass "Bayside Shakedown 2" (2003) in the coming weeks to become the highest-grossing Japanese live-action film of all time. Korean media has particularly highlighted the story angle that Lee, a director of Zainichi Korean descent, achieved this remarkable feat with a film deeply rooted in kabuki, one of Japan's most traditional and culturally significant art forms.
This narrative frequently emerges whenever a Korean director gains international recognition, but Lee seems determined to shift the conversation away from identity politics. Speaking at the distributor's office in Gangnam, Seoul, he explained his perspective with characteristic directness. "You're born where you're born, and you can't change that. I just happened to be born in Japan, so I grew up immersed in Japanese culture and living among Japanese people," he stated. "Being Korean doesn't make any of this special. It's just natural."
Lee's words carry particular significance given that he maintains his Korean name in a country where many Zainichi Koreans choose to adopt Japanese names for social and professional reasons. However, he insists that his attraction to kabuki wasn't driven by any outsider's perspective or desire to make political statements about identity through the art form. Instead, his fascination centered on something more fundamental and artistic in nature.
"There's this enigmatic atmosphere they have that's hard to describe," Lee says about onnagata, the male kabuki actors who specialize in performing female roles. "Not exactly feminine, not masculine either. Something in between, or maybe beyond gender entirely." This unique quality of onnagata performers became a central element that drew him to explore the kabuki world cinematically.
Lee's interest extended beyond the performances themselves to the people behind the art. "What interested me wasn't just the performances but the people behind them. Kabuki is passed down through bloodlines – father to son, generation after generation. That burden, that pressure also felt like something worth exploring," he explained. This hereditary aspect of kabuki culture became a key theme in his film's narrative structure.
"Kokuho" follows the story of Kikuo, portrayed as a child by Soya Kurokawa and as an adult by Ryo Yoshizawa. The character enters the world of kabuki as a complete outsider with nothing to lose, bringing fresh perspective to this traditional art form. He is taken under the wing of a master actor in Osaka and begins training alongside Shunsuke, played by Keitatsu Koshiyama as a child and later by Ryusei Yokohama as an adult. Shunsuke represents the opposite of Kikuo – he is the heir to an established kabuki house, carrying the weight of family tradition and expectations.
Both characters train intensively to become onnagata performers, and the film spans fifty years of their intertwined lives. Throughout this extended timeframe, the two push each other toward artistic greatness, their entire existence consumed by an art form that demands complete dedication and sacrifice. Their relationship serves as the emotional core of the epic narrative.
While maintaining authenticity was crucial to the project, Lee made the deliberate decision from the beginning to cast film actors rather than professional kabuki performers. "People questioned that choice at first," he acknowledges. "But I needed actors who could show what's happening inside these characters. The joy, the pressure, the pain – those are things film actors know how to reveal for the camera." This casting choice allowed for deeper emotional exploration while maintaining the visual spectacle of kabuki.
The kabuki sequences provide the film's most powerful moments and give the otherwise conventional narrative structure its distinctive pulse. These elaborate, meticulously staged performances are shot in extended takes that allow entire kabuki pieces to unfold without interruption, giving audiences an immersive experience. Lee approached filming these sequences from three distinct visual angles: the audience's perspective for pure spectacle, the actor's viewpoint from the stage to show their experience, and tight close-ups to reveal the intense emotions and thoughts churning beneath the surface.
"This isn't just a film about kabuki. It's about the people performing it," Lee explains his directorial approach. "Their suffering, their ecstasy – everything had to come through." This human-centered approach required extensive research and preparation to capture the authentic experience of kabuki performers.
Lee's research process took him backstage repeatedly, where he observed the daily lives of kabuki actors. What struck him most profoundly was how little separation existed between the performers' personal lives and their artistic practice. "The dressing rooms felt like their actual homes. They basically live there and only come out to perform," he observed. This total immersion in their craft became another layer of authenticity he sought to capture in the film.
At nearly three hours in length, "Kokuho" presents a challenging proposition for any movie market. The extended runtime is an especially steep climb in Korea's currently sluggish box office environment, where most live-action films have been struggling to find audiences. Lee is fully aware of these commercial challenges facing his film.
"I've heard the Korean film industry is struggling right now," he admits candidly. "And this is a Japanese film about a Japanese art form that runs three hours. I know that's a lot to ask." Despite these concerns, he remains optimistic about the film's potential to connect with audiences beyond its cultural origins.
Lee returns to the same conviction that made him dismiss identity-focused questions in the first place: his belief that the film speaks to something fundamentally universal in human experience. "Artists are people who burn everything to show something beautiful. There's also something grotesque about it. These are people who accomplished what they set out to do, and I believe there's power in that," he reflects on the nature of artistic dedication.
His final thoughts connect the film's themes to current global circumstances. "Humans have this instinct to seek out beautiful things. Right now, with all the anxiety in the world – in Korea, in Japan, everywhere – maybe people need that." This perspective suggests that "Kokuho" offers audiences not just entertainment, but a form of artistic solace during uncertain times. The film opens in Korean theaters on Wednesday.
