CULTURE CURRENT-Yeon Sang-ho on the intermingling of AI and human nature

South Korean film director Yeon Sang-ho has spent most of his nearly three-decade-long film career exploring Korean horror, sci-fi and the supernatural, rising to global prominence in 2016 with ​the zombie blockbuster movie "Train to Busan." His latest work, psychological thriller "Paradise Lost", centers on a grieving mother whose young son goes missing and is presumed dead, only to reappear nine ​years later after she has found solace in a virtual reality program that recreates him as a digital avatar.

Inspired by ‌a three-page ​story written by Yeon's mother, in which a woman in a village struggles to control her increasingly delinquent son, the film explores motherhood, AI and questions of human identity. Speaking to Reuters in Seoul ahead of the film's North American theatrical release on November 6, Yeon reflected on those themes, what AI could mean for filmmaking, and where his career may take him next.

This conversation has been edited for length and clarity. "Paradise Lost" features various themes: motherhood, AI ethics, and human nature. Was there one that you saw as central to this film?

The reason I chose ‌the title Paradise Lost was because of something I found interesting in John Milton's epic poem. In paradise, humans are tempted by the serpent, eat from the Tree of Knowledge and begin to think for themselves. Shame and pain come with that, and they are expelled from paradise. I found it fascinating to think of that as the beginning of human identity.

Now, at this critical point in the age of AI, we have to ask what it means to be human and what human identity actually is. I began to think that things such as incomprehensibility and pain are intimately connected with human existence. There is a lot of tension in the film — but unlike your other films, there is no monster. How and why did you approach it that way?

Many of the films ‌and dramas I made after "Train to Busan" had very strong genre elements. They emphasized the kind of tension or fear that could be immediately felt by a broad audience. I love films by great Asian filmmakers such as Edward Yang and Kiyoshi Kurosawa. Their films often deal with more complex themes that aren't always easy to understand. My longing to make something like ‌that became a driving force behind (the 2025 mystery) "The Ugly" and "Paradise Lost."

"Paradise Lost" premiered in Toronto before its Korean release. Have you noticed any differences between the reactions of overseas and Korean audiences? With this film, AI is an important issue all over the world, and motherhood is also universal, so I have found the reactions broadly similar.

Many societies almost mythologize motherhood. Looking at its other side isn't necessarily a very comfortable or conventional subject. But perhaps because of that, people who understand what the film is trying to do have responded very positively. What questions do you hope audiences ask themselves about AI and human nature after watching this film?

I wanted people to think about the identity of AI itself. AI represents, in a sense, the pinnacle of universality, drawing on collective intelligence through incredibly fast information sharing. We live in an age when we can communicate with almost anyone in the world at any moment and obtain information extremely quickly. Yet paradoxically, ⁠rather than broadening people's perspectives, ​I feel this can make them more isolated.

Algorithms that use AI show users more of what ⁠they already want to see and encourage them to believe it. So even though the exchange of information has become enormously faster, I think a phenomenon of isolation is clearly happening, where people see only what they already want to see. Ryu So-young (the mother in "Paradise Lost") experiences something similar. Human beings inevitably change. But the AI son she encounters embodies exactly what she wants him to be and what she wants to remain unchanged. I thought that actually isolates Ryu So-young ⁠even further.

What are your personal feelings about AI? Because AI represents the pinnacle of universality, I think one of the great fears of our time is that as we move toward this extreme universality. Human individuality is becoming powerless. I think that's the fear people feel in the AI era.

If we narrow it down to the film industry, there is another aspect. In the past, when you saw a dinosaur or a ​giant robot in a movie, there was wonder in seeing that image. My daughter is 12, and her generation has reached a point where virtually no image surprises them anymore. No matter what they see, they don't ask, "How did they make that?" They just think, "Well, they made it somehow."

The same applies to stories. There used to be ⁠wonder in creating genre stories with broad, universal appeal. Increasingly, that power is weakening. You can see this in Hollywood. One of Hollywood's defining strengths was its ability to make enormous blockbusters that industries elsewhere couldn't make. But now you see relatively small-budget stories becoming hits rather than simply the biggest-budget blockbusters.

"Paradise Lost" was made on a budget of about 500 million won ($372,000) over 14 shooting sessions, according to South Korean entertainment firm CJ ENM. Why did you decide to undertake such a low-budget film ⁠and how ​did it shape the finished product? I believe the aesthetic of film grows out of scarcity. When everything is perfectly available, creators' fears inevitably pull them toward the universal.

But when something is missing, you have no choice but to solve the problems that arise within that gap. Paradoxically, I think those very problems give creators courage, which is why I see this (low-budget) production as one that empowers its creators. Your career has encompassed animation, feature films and television. How do you see your evolution as a filmmaker, and where does "Paradise Lost" fit into that journey?

I originally started with independent animation. Later, I made large-scale theatrical films and then series for global streaming platforms. What I've always pursued is the freedom to try different things as a creator. That's why projects such as "The ⁠Ugly" and "Paradise Lost" have been so precious to me. They've actually given me greater courage when I return to making bigger theatrical films.

If I try something new in the future, I want to make films I haven't made before, particularly within genres that have not been extensively developed in Korea. For example, I'd like to make a children's film before (my children) ⁠grow up.

Their father is a film director, but I've never made a movie they could watch while they're ⁠still children. I think I'd regret that once they're older. Would that be an animation?

It could be animation or live action. I started out in animation, so I know how enormous the possibilities are in children's animation, beginning with character design. But if I did it, I'd actually like to make a live-action children's film.

Korea's global creative influence has grown enormously in recent years. What excites you about the Korean industry now, and what role can it continue to play globally? The period when Korea absorbed culture from many countries, including Hong Kong films, Japanese animation, and ‌American cinema, became the driving force behind today's K-content. I'm sure K-content's ‌influence will inspire creators in other countries, and that new cultures will be born from it.

The perspectives expressed in Culture Current are the subject’s own and do not necessarily reflect the views ​of Reuters News.