Chungmuro — Korea’s First Hollywood

From the Silver Screen to Printing Presses: The Evolution of Korea’s Creative Heart

In the 1950s and 60s, Chungmuro naturally became Korea’s film hub. Movie studios needed promotional materials — posters, scripts, brochures — and the print shops were already here, ready to meet the demand. This symbiotic relationship between filmmakers and printers gave birth to what I call “Korea’s First Hollywood.”

Chungmuro’s cinematic roots stretch back to the early 20th century, under Japanese colonial rule, when the first Korean cinemas were established in this area. Temporary theaters like the Gyeongseong High Entertainment Theater (1910) and Daejeong Theater (1912) served Japanese audiences, while theaters like Danseong Theater (remodeled in 1918) began catering to Korean moviegoers. By the late 1950s, with the chaos of the Korean War behind it, the country’s film industry began to flourish.

The revival of Korean cinema in the late 1950s laid the foundation for what would become its golden age in the 1960s. The number of films produced skyrocketed — from just 18 in 1954 to 111 by 1959. Genres diversified, with filmmakers exploring melodramas, comedies, crime thrillers, and period dramas. The booming demand for cinema in post-war Korea, fueled by an optimistic and rapidly modernizing society, created an opportunity for Chungmuro to cement itself as the nation’s film hub.

At the same time, Chungmuro’s established printing infrastructure played a critical role in supporting this growth. With so many film production houses and theaters clustered in the area, print shops churned out posters, scripts, and promotional materials, forming a vital link in the creative ecosystem. This wasn’t just a one-way relationship — the printing industry thrived on the demand generated by the film industry, and filmmakers benefited from the proximity of printers who could quickly and efficiently meet their needs.

Original poster for *Chunhyangjeon* (1955)

Chungmuro became synonymous with Korean cinema. By the end of the 1950s, over 70 film production companies operated in the district, alongside bustling theaters that screened iconic films like Chunhyangjeon (1955), which became a box office hit and inspired a generation of filmmakers. The area thrived as directors, screenwriters, and actors flocked to Chungmuro in hopes of making their mark in the burgeoning film industry.

But as Korea’s film industry matured, the spotlight gradually shifted to other parts of Seoul. Large production houses moved to Gangnam, leaving Chungmuro’s theaters and print shops to adapt to a changing cultural and economic landscape. Today, Chungmuro is no longer defined by its role in cinema. Instead, it has reinvented itself as a vital industrial hub, with the printing presses still humming in the background of a neighborhood transformed.

Walking through Chungmuro today, you won’t find the glitz or glamor of its cinematic heyday. Instead, you’ll encounter the rhythm of forklifts navigating narrow alleys, workers sharing quick lunches in tucked-away food stalls, and the scent of ink wafting from print shops. A fresh kimchi store might sit next to a workshop producing glossy catalogs, and vibrant murals peek out from industrial facades. The Grand Bell Awards sculpture near the old Myungbo Theater stands as a quiet nod to the past, but the real story of Chungmuro today lies in its people — printers, shopkeepers, and workers who keep the district alive.

Chungmuro may no longer be the center of Korean cinema, but it remains a testament to resilience and reinvention. As the backbone of Korea’s cultural output during its hypergrowth years — from literature and textbooks to promotional materials for the silver screen — the district played a pivotal role in shaping the country’s modern identity.

Sometimes, the most authentic stories aren’t found in the spotlight but in the ink-stained hands and busy alleyways where real life unfolds. Chungmuro’s legacy as Korea’s “First Hollywood” lives on, not in the glitz of cinema, but in the resilience of a neighborhood that continues to thrive in its own quiet way.