At first glance, the movie Pulgasari is nothing more than a B-movie that is clearly a rip-off of Godzilla. It is one of those “so bad that it’s good” films that is definitely worthy of being featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000 or RiffTrax. (By the way, if anyone from MST3K or RiffTrax is reading this, we would really like to see this happen.) What makes Pulgasari especially noteworthy, however, is the story of how it was created in the first place.

Kidnapped in the Name of Better Cinema

Shin Sang-ok (1926–2006) was one of the greatest film producers and directors in South Korea. He produced more than 100 films and directed 70 during his storied career, becoming known as the Orson Welles of South Korea.

In 1978, Shin’s former wife, actress Choi Eun-hee, was kidnapped by North Korean operatives. Shin was abducted several months later after traveling to Hong Kong to investigate her disappearance. He attempted to escape but was punished with four years in prison. There, believing Choi was dead, he survived on a diet consisting largely of grass, salt, and rice. He was also subjected to nonstop indoctrination about the North Korean government, its “Great Leader,” Kim Il-sung, and Kim’s son and designated successor, Kim Jong-il.

In 1983, without warning or explanation, Shin was released from custody, reunited with Choi, and brought to a reception with Kim Jong-il. Only then was he told why he had been abducted and brought to the country.

Kim Jong-il’s Modest Proposal

Kim, who was an enthusiastic movie fan, told Shin that he could make a difference in North Korea’s cinematic culture. “The North’s filmmakers are just doing perfunctory work. They don’t have any new ideas,” Kim said. “Their works have the same expressions, redundancies, the same old plots. All our movies are filled with crying and sobbing. I didn’t order them to portray that kind of thing.”

Kim then addressed the small issue of Shin’s previous four years of imprisonment. He explained that he had intended to bring Shin to North Korea to discuss how he might help improve North Korean cinema. Due to an embarrassing misunderstanding, however, Shin had somehow ended up being arrested instead. Kim apologized for taking so long to correct the misunderstanding, explaining that he had been rather busy at the office.

North Korea’s ruling family has never been overly troubled by the occasional gap between official history and observable reality, as demonstrated by the myths North Koreans have been taught about their leaders. In that context, “Sorry we accidentally imprisoned you for four years” was practically a model of governmental transparency.

After offering his apology for the inconvenience, Kim got right down to business. He wanted Shin to begin producing movies that would show the world that North Korea was not lagging behind culturally.

Shin agreed, but he understood the challenges of his assignment. “What a wretched fate,” Shin remembered thinking. “I hated communism, but I had to pretend to be devoted to it, to escape from this barren republic. It was lunacy.”

Creating North Korea’s Answer to Godzilla

During his eight years in North Korea, Shin eventually directed seven films, with Kim Jong-il acting as executive producer. The best-known film from this unusual period of his career was Pulgasari.

Loosely based on a legend from the late Goryeo period, Pulgasari was created with the help of more than 700 employees of Shin’s production company. The production team also included monster-movie veterans from Japan, who agreed to participate only after Kim guaranteed their safety—a reassurance that probably sounded more comforting before they remembered who was providing it.

The film’s namesake clearly owes much to Godzilla. For another peculiar chapter in the monster’s possible prehistory, read about the great Tokyo sea monster hoax of 1947.

The connection became even more obvious with the casting of Japanese actor Kenpachiro Satsuma as Pulgasari. Satsuma was a veteran monster-suit performer who portrayed Godzilla throughout the Heisei series of films from 1984 to 1995. In other words, Kim Jong-il did not merely order a North Korean version of Godzilla; he imported Godzilla’s regular stunt double.

A Tiny Rice Monster Joins the Revolution

Pulgasari is born when a jailed blacksmith fashions a lizard-like creature out of rice. The blacksmith declares that he will use the last spark of his creative power to bring the object to life. He succeeds, and the result is a genuinely adorable little critter.

Pulgasari is born at a time when the farmers are starving because of the oppressive rule of the king. The fact that North Koreans were likewise suffering under the oppressive rule of their leaders was an irony apparently lost on Kim Jong-il.

Since Pulgasari eats iron instead of regular food, he is not hindered by the food shortage. He quickly grows to the point where he towers over buildings. Along the way, he loses his cute features and grows horns, thus completing the transition from “adorable novelty pet” to “reason to update the village evacuation plan.”

All the starvation and oppression take place amid seemingly endless footage of folk dancing. This was partly because the film was produced under the guidelines of On the Art of the Cinema, a 1973 treatise attributed to Kim Jong-il. Kim stressed that films should showcase the culture of North Korea. We can only speculate that Pulgasari does not join in the dancing because of the bulkiness of the monster suit.

Pulgasari Overthrows the King

Finally, with the assistance of thousands of North Korean soldiers drafted as extras, we are treated to the sight of masses of farmers being led by Pulgasari in an assault on the king’s fortress.

The king brings out the big guns—literally, the big lion-shaped guns. Even these are unequal to the task of defeating Pulgasari. He simply swallows the incoming missiles and vomits them back at his attackers. The victory is complete when part of the fortress collapses on the evil king, bringing his reign to an end.

When the Liberator Becomes the Problem

This is the point at which you would expect the closing credits to begin scrolling over scenes of rejoicing and, of course, folk dancing. Alas, it is not to be. In an ironic reflection of actual North Korean life, there really is no happy ending.

Pulgasari unexpectedly turns on the victorious farmers and begins eating all their weapons and tools. This causes him to grow even larger, which is rarely a positive development when the creature in question already regards artillery as finger food.

The people are understandably conflicted. They regard Pulgasari as the hero who liberated them from tyranny, but they also fear that he will be the end of them. Again, this irony seems to have flown over the head of Kim Jong-il, whose life story would have required remarkably little adaptation to become the plot of Pulgasari.

Everyone is saved when the blacksmith’s daughter sacrifices herself by hiding inside a large bell. When Pulgasari swallows the girl along with the bell, we learn that a diet of humans does not exactly agree with him. The mammoth creature cries out in agony and then explodes.

In almost any other setting, this development would result in the blacksmith’s daughter being freed from the creature’s stomach and living happily ever after. This, however, is North Korea, so the young woman is likewise blown to smithereens.

The Allegory Kim Jong-il Apparently Missed

What are we to make of the underlying message of Pulgasari? Kim apparently intended the film as a warning about entrusting the fate of a nation to a monster who was unmistakably capitalist, as evidenced by his insatiable appetite for iron.

Others have seen something beyond Kim’s intended message. They view the film as a metaphor for North Korea’s own leaders, who hijacked the “people’s revolution” to serve their own interests. The farmers overthrow one oppressive ruler only to discover that their celebrated liberator consumes everything they possess. Subtle it is not, but neither is a 30-foot iron-eating monster.

Escape from North Korea

Whatever message might be gleaned from Pulgasari, Kim Jong-il was thrilled with the outcome. Having earned Kim’s trust, Shin and Choi were given increasing freedom to travel as goodwill ambassadors for North Korean culture.

During one such trip to Vienna in 1986, the couple slipped away from their government handlers and sought political asylum at the United States Embassy. They lived under assumed names and government protection in Reston, Virginia, for two years until officials determined that it was safe for them to go public.

Kim Jong-il was less than thrilled by the defection of his top filmmaker. He shelved Pulgasari and the other films associated with Shin, apparently concluding that kidnapping a director did not entitle the director to creative control over his own travel arrangements.

The movie eventually escaped North Korea as well. Pulgasari received a Japanese home-video release in 1995 and a Japanese theatrical release in 1998. It was released in South Korean theaters in 2000, becoming the first North Korean film distributed theatrically in the South.

Amid considerable publicity, Pulgasari premiered in South Korea. The film was not exactly a blockbuster. In fact, only about 1,000 people saw it during its Seoul run. Apparently, “made by a kidnapped director for a dictator who really liked Godzilla” was not enough to overcome the usual difficulty of convincing people to pay money for a bad movie.

Make More Cartoons

Kim Jong-il died in 2011. Until his dying day, he remained a strong advocate for North Korea’s advancement in the film industry. His treatises on filmmaking continued to guide the nation’s cinematic efforts, and his views on the subject were even engraved on monuments throughout the country.

One such monument, located outside the Revolutionary Museum of the Ministry of Culture on the outskirts of Pyongyang, proclaims, “Make more cartoons.”

Perhaps Pulgasari would have been more successful if it had been animated.

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