THE NEW YORK TIMES: Why Korean fandom is so intense, according to the star of ‘Squid Game’

Lee Jung-jae is everywhere in South Korea: on TV, in fashion shows, and on ads selling everything from insurance to instant noodles.

He was already an established leading man in South Korea when his star turn in Netflix’s hit series “Squid Game” elevated him further at home and brought him global attention. He became the first Korean to win an Emmy for acting and was the first Asian to be cast as a Jedi Master in the “Star Wars” franchise.

But superstardom in South Korea also means heavy scrutiny from fans, who can quickly morph into critics and harassers. Their backlash has roiled careers and, in a few extreme cases, culminated in celebrities dying by suicide.

“It is a burden,” Lee said of South Korean fans’ expectations, in a recent interview. Audiences here root for their favourite stars “with the heart of a family member.”

That, experts say, can make a let down from a celebrity intensely personal for audiences in South Korea.

Lee has had a taste of disapproval. In 1999, he was booked for drunken driving and had his license suspended. Three years later, he committed the same offense. Although local media branded him a disgrace, today’s rich social media landscape didn’t yet exist, and those incidents did not derail his blossoming career.

“Had it happened recently, it would have been different,” said Jason Bechervaise, who studies Korean films at Hanyang University in Seoul.

In the ensuing years, Lee, who said he still regrets the incidents, learned how to straddle fans’ expectations. He has built a reputation as a star without airs.

“Before smartphones and social media, fans could only communicate with stars and one another in person,” Lee said. “Now, they can interact online, which has made fandoms more zealous.”

Lee, who was wearing a grey suit and Christian Dior sneakers to the July interview in the Gangnam neighbourhood in Seoul, seemed pensive and solemn as he laid out what he thinks his followers want.

“Fans want their favourite stars to work hard, have a good social reputation, and be prolific,” he said.

For now, Lee appears to have checked all three boxes, evolving early on into a leading man in thrillers and period dramas. He has more than 40 movie and TV credits.

Jayeon Lee, who teaches media and communications at Hanyang University, said the Korean concept of “jeong,” or a collective bond, helps explain the public’s perception of celebrities.

“One characteristic of Korean relationships is that people have high levels of affection and hold each other to high standards,” she said. And when someone — even a celebrity with whom people have no personal interactions — strays from expectations, it brings “disappointment and a sense of betrayal.”

That is what happened to one of Lee’s co-stars, Choi Seung-hyun, a K-pop rapper who is better known as T.O.P. In 2017, he received a suspended jail term of 10 months for smoking marijuana, an illegal substance in South Korea. He mostly stayed away from public life for years, until he appeared as Thanos in season 2 of “Squid Game.”

But experts noted that stinging feedback from fans has side lined other Korean stars, especially women, for seemingly smaller infractions.

Interactions between fans and celebrities have changed dramatically since Lee first rose to fame in 1995 with “Sandglass,” a series about South Korea’s turbulent history with dictatorships.

“I often meet my fans at the theatre at movie premiere events,” he said. But since TV shows don’t often have red carpets, “I need to find a way, be it on Instagram or another platform, to cultivate a constant back and forth between my fans rather than rely on those film screenings.”

His Instagram skews curated and polished rather than candid and expressive. Nonetheless, one downside to social media is how rapidly rumours can spread, and Lee is no stranger to being the subject of gossip.

Soon after the release of the second season of “Squid Game” in December, a photo of him with a conservative politician, Han Dong-hoon, spread on the internet. It led to speculation that Lee was a supporter of Han and, by extension, the party of Yoon Suk Yeol, who as president of South Korea had declared martial law just weeks earlier.

But the photo was taken years ago, and Lee told reporters in January that he and Han were merely former high school classmates and neither business nor political partners.

Today the public constantly monitors stars and offers endless feedback, Lee said.

“I’ve wondered if I need to debunk every myth or rumour about me,” he said. “But I’ve come to accept that this comes with the job.”

Some critics say audiences have glossed over some of Lee’s DUIs and other run-ins with the law.

But supporters attest to his sterling character both on and off the camera.

Hwang Dong-hyuk, the creator and director of “Squid Game,” said Lee threw himself into the role of Seong Gi-hun or Player 456. He ate mostly boiled vegetables for a year, skipping crew meals and keeping himself isolated, losing 22 pounds through filming, as his character became more gaunt.

Lee “isn’t complacent in his stardom,” Hwang said.

Through the expectations, rumours and experience of more than 30 years in South Korea’s entertainment industry, Lee said he has unlocked one secret to keeping his fans happy: Steer clear of playing an unforgivable antagonist.

“There are some villains who at least look cool while doing it. But a through-and-through bad guy? I won’t do it,” he said. “My fans would never forgive me.”

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.

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