Priyanka Mohan-starrer “Made in Korea” looks ambitious enough to cash in on the K-wave fandom in Tamil Nadu. But like many Tamil films with interesting ideas, it fails to convert that premise into a thoroughly engaging and breezy feel-good drama. Directed by Ra. Karthick — who made his directorial debut with “Nitham Oru Vaanam” (2022) — “Made in Korea” revolves around Priyanka’s Shenbagam, aka Shenba, whose single aspiration in life is to travel to South Korea. On a side note: Matt Damon is absolutely right. This Netflix film repeats the key plot point — the heroine wanting to travel to Korea — at least three times in its early portions.
In her childhood, Shenba believed in the legend of an alleged Tamil princess, Sembavalam, and won a dress-up contest at school by appearing as the Tamil princess-turned-Korean-queen. Shenba’s obsession eventually takes her to South Korea, thanks to a swindling boyfriend (Rishikanth). The friends she finds in Korea, and the dreams she pursues, make up the rest of the narrative, which allows a fine collaboration with Korean actors, although the cross-cultural themes are explored only in a superficial manner.
Innocence is an important ingredient that should be used in the right proportions in feel-good dramas. But naivete can make a film pretentious. “Made in Korea” makes the mistake of confusing naivete for innocence. In YouTube reaction channels, we might have come across some cute but clueless Koreans (over) reacting to the linguistic similarities between Tamil and Korean. Though the two cultures share some common ground — such as respect for hierarchy and classical traditions — there has been no strong evidence linking the Dravidian languages and Korean. The legend of Queen Sembavalam is also a pseudohistory, based on internet-fueled shallow speculations. Since “Made in Korea” is built on such shaky grounds — in terms of characterization and Bodhidharma-like falsities — the naivete in the writing outweighs the genuine innocence in the tale.

The cardboard characterization of Priyanka’s Shenba doesn’t immerse us in the character’s dreams or make us feel her unfortunate setbacks. It may seem as though Priyanka Mohan lacks the performance range to carry the role. But the first culprit is the uninspired writing. We don’t get a deeper sense of who Shenba is as an individual, apart from being a sheltered young woman who blindly trusts her boyfriend. And the roots of her Korean obsession don’t reveal anything about her as a person. It is presented only as an escape fantasy. If it had tied her interest in all things Korea to provide even a passing commentary on Shenba’s class mobility, aspiration, or loneliness, it would have been intriguing.
Shenba’s supposed fascination with Korea remains oddly abstract. Even AI chatbots could easily supply references to Shenba’s interest in a particular K-drama, film, song, or public figure. Instead, the obsession feels more like a narrative label than a lived interest. There are passing moments that show Shenba watching a K-series or hearing a K-pop song. But which ones, and what do they mean to her? A life-affirming drama could definitely have been made with this premise, particularly with Shenba’s connection with an old Korean matriarch (Park Hye-jin), who doesn’t just confine herself to being a caretaker for her son and grandchildren.
The woman feigns illness, and Shenba is appointed as her caretaker. Yet the two secretly run a successful restaurant business. Once again, the chain of favorable and implausible things that happen to Shenba feels like it belongs purely to cinema. Which is fine, but the chance friendships she gains have zero depth. At times, she behaves like Jun Ji-hyun’s character in “My Sassy Girl.” But instead of feeling brattily cute, it comes across as mildly threatening. Why would these Koreans want to accept Shenba as their friend? Because she is full of vague, AI-ready career and life advice that surprisingly works for them?
Writer-director Ra. Karthick might have wanted to touch all the built-in aspects of Korean culture we see on-screen: food, music, tradition, and so on. If “Made in Korea” had strong characters, brilliant performances, and organic storytelling, these romanticized takes wouldn’t be a big problem. Since the film fails in those things, the inherent romanticization of Korean media, culture, and its people feels more annoying than your average K-drama slops.

The ‘translator’ element could have worked well. But the robotic AI Tamil voice of the ‘translator’ and the overtly sentimental lines undercut the emotional dynamics between the characters. The Korean actors’ performances are fine, but since the filmmaker tries to maintain it as a Tamil film first, their performances are almost literally ‘lost in translation.’ The overuse of montages works more like reels of a foreign country than providing the lived-in feeling of a character’s hard-earned journey.
There are many good examples of well-made cross-cultural dramas. Recently, I watched “18X2 Beyond Youthful Days,” which beautifully conveyed how a Taiwanese adolescent’s obsession with anime and his love for a backpacking Japanese woman shape his adulthood. There was also the Brendan Fraser-starrer “Rental Family,” which, though it didn’t deeply explore the ethical and emotional dilemmas of faking human connection, offered some fascinating cross-cultural scenarios involving a struggling American actor living in Japanese society. There are also uniformly brilliant films exploring cross-cultural themes such as “Cold Fever,” “The Band’s Visit,” and “Le Havre.”
“Made in Korea” didn’t need to aspire to that level of nuanced filmmaking. The issue is that it turns an interesting premise into a strictly mediocre script staged in an insipid manner. Shenba finds her home away from home. “Made in Korea” feels right at home on Netflix, among its other visually pleasing but narratively hollow Originals.
