‘Made in Korea’ Review: A Sleek Espionage Drama Set in Turbulent Times (Hulu)

This new Korean series takes as its starting point a variation on a well-known historical event—the hijacking of a flight in 1969 that was diverted to North Korea—and uses it to weave together a plot that combines political intrigue, dangerous drug-trafficking rings, Japanese yakuza, and a confrontation between two men who ostensibly claim to be fighting for the same goal: the security of South Korea. Lighter and more conventional than it initially appears, Made in Korea nonetheless works very well as an accessible entry point into the country’s complex and often turbulent history.

Baek Gi-tae (Hyun Bin) is a stylish businessman who boards a plane traveling from Japan to South Korea, only for it to be hijacked by a revolutionary group that takes the passengers hostage and threatens to divert the flight to communist North Korea. Amid the chaos unfolding both inside and outside the aircraft, Baek reveals himself to be a sharp and persuasive negotiator, trying to ensure that the hostages are released unharmed and that the inexperienced hijackers can reach their destination. But Baek is not, strictly speaking, a businessman. He is, in fact, a high-ranking member of the KCIA (yes, the Korean CIA), apparently working undercover within a drug-trafficking organization connected to the yakuza.

Because the KCIA operated under what was then a military government—South Korea was ruled by various forms of dictatorship until 1987—its methods were even more secretive and convoluted than those of similar agencies elsewhere. And the elegant, perpetually cool Baek, whose voiceover frames the story in the first episode, often comes across less like an undercover agent serving the law than like a thoroughly corrupt official. Is he?

The second episode introduces the other key character in Made in Korea, who will become Baek’s nemesis: Jang Geon-young (Jung Woo-sung), a prosecutor from Busan determined to dismantle a drug ring linked to the murder of a couple in that city. In the course of his investigation—which also involves going undercover—he crosses paths with Baek, someone who should, on paper, be on his side, but who in practice seems anything but. From that point on, a conflict is set in motion that will run through the remainder of the series’ six episodes.

At first, thanks to its use of archival documentary footage, the series seems deeply invested in real political events from 1970s Korea. Gradually, however, those historical elements become more contextual than central, and Made in Korea takes on more familiar traits of a spy thriller—secret agents, narcos, and, at its core, a face-off between two men who embody opposing models: the incorruptible man of the law and the far more elusive intelligence operative.

With flashes of humor typical of Korean audiovisual storytelling and an elegant, stylized mise-en-scène—it is evident, for various reasons, that director Woo Min-ho (Inside Men) is a devoted admirer of Jean-Pierre Melville’s Le Samouraï, starring Alain Delon—Made in Korea does lose some of its dramatic momentum as the episodes progress, even as it remains a relatively sharp and unsparing look at the political climate of the era.

Korean cinema and television have frequently drawn on tense and violent episodes from the country’s national history to create popular, mass-market entertainment. In the best examples, beneath the action and suspense, one can still feel the weight of the political traumas that shaped the nation. Made in Korea does not quite achieve that effect. Korean history provides the context and the pretext, but in more than one sense, the story the series tells could unfold, more or less, anywhere.