Imagine you’re a world-famous director, and suddenly, you’re in a prison cell eating grass. Not a movie script. Not a "what-if" scenario. This actually happened to Shin Sang-ok, the man once called the "Orson Welles of South Korea."
The story of A Kim Jong Il Production is one of those truth-is-stranger-than-fiction tales that usually sounds like a late-night conspiracy theory. But it’s all real. In 1978, the future "Dear Leader" of North Korea, Kim Jong Il, decided his country’s cinema was boring. It was too stiff. Too much propaganda, not enough heart. His solution? He kidnapped the South’s most famous actress, Choi Eun-hee, and her ex-husband, the legendary director Shin Sang-ok.
Basically, Kim Jong Il wanted to win an Oscar, and he wasn't going to let a little thing like international law stop him.
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The Most Audacious Kidnapping in History
Kim Jong Il was a cinephile. He reportedly owned over 20,000 films. He loved Rambo. He loved James Bond. But he hated his own filmmakers. He felt they were lazy and lacked vision. So, he set a trap in Hong Kong.
First, they took Choi. She was lured to a meeting about a potential film role and was essentially snatched off a beach at Repulse Bay. She woke up on a boat. When she arrived in Nampo Harbor, Kim Jong Il was there to greet her personally. He was polite. He was charming. He gave her a luxury villa. But he didn't give her her freedom.
Then came Shin. He went to Hong Kong to find his ex-wife and was also kidnapped. Unlike Choi, Shin didn't play ball immediately. He tried to escape. He spent years in "re-education" camps, enduring brutal conditions and a diet of grass and salt. Eventually, he realized the only way out was through the camera lens. He "cracked," pledged loyalty to Kim, and was reunited with Choi at a party in 1983.
Life Under the Dear Leader's Lens
Once they were "reunited," the real work began. Kim Jong Il gave them a massive budget. He gave them thousands of soldiers to use as extras. He gave them creative freedom—within a very specific, communist framework.
- They made seven films in about two years.
- An Emissary of No Return (1984) was their first big hit, filmed partly in Czechoslovakia.
- Love, Love, My Love (1984) actually featured the first on-screen kiss in North Korean history.
- Pulgasari (1985) is the one everyone knows—the Godzilla rip-off that’s secretly about the dangers of unchecked capitalism (or maybe the regime itself).
You've gotta realize how surreal this was. They were the most powerful people in the North Korean film industry, living in mansions, yet they were prisoners. They even secretly recorded conversations with Kim Jong Il on a tape recorder hidden in Choi’s purse. Those tapes are chilling. In them, Kim openly admits to the kidnapping and mocks his own people’s lack of creativity.
The Pulgasari Legacy
Let's talk about Pulgasari. If you look it up on YouTube, it looks like a goofy rubber-suit monster movie. And it is. But the backstory is wild. Kim Jong Il actually tricked technicians from Toho Studios—the people who made the real Godzilla—into coming to North Korea to do the special effects. They thought they were working on a Chinese co-production.
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Kenpachiro Satsuma, the man inside the Godzilla suit at the time, played Pulgasari. He later said he actually liked the North Korean suit better than the Japanese one. The movie was a massive hit in the North. It’s about a metal-eating monster that helps peasants overthrow a corrupt king, only to become a threat itself because it won't stop eating their tools.
The Great Escape in Vienna
By 1986, the couple had gained Kim’s trust. They were allowed to travel to Europe to negotiate distribution deals for their films. This was their shot.
In Vienna, while being shadowed by North Korean agents, they managed to hop into a taxi. They told the driver to go as fast as possible to the U.S. Embassy. It was a literal high-speed chase through the streets of Austria. They made it. They spent years in the U.S. under assumed names, fearing North Korean assassins, before Shin eventually returned to South Korea and even worked in Hollywood (he produced 3 Ninjas under the name Simon Sheen).
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Honestly, the fact that they survived is a miracle. Most people who cross the Kim family don't get a sequel.
Why This Story Still Resonates
We live in an era of fake news and deepfakes, but A Kim Jong Il Production reminds us that the most extreme versions of media manipulation have been around for a long time. It shows the lengths a dictator will go to control the narrative.
Paul Fischer’s book, which shares the title, does a great job of detailing the psychological toll this took. It wasn't just about movies; it was about the survival of the soul under total surveillance.
Actionable Insights for History and Film Buffs
If you're fascinated by this era of history, there are a few things you should actually do to see the proof for yourself:
- Watch Pulgasari: It’s readily available on various streaming platforms and YouTube. Look past the rubber suit and see the "theater state" propaganda in action.
- Listen to the Tapes: Portions of the recordings Choi Eun-hee made are available in documentaries like The Lovers and the Despot. Hearing Kim Jong Il's actual voice—not the official, booming propaganda version—is haunting.
- Read the Memoirs: Both Shin and Choi wrote about their experiences. Their perspectives differ slightly on certain details, which adds a layer of human complexity to the saga.
- Visit the Shin Film Website: While the original studio is long gone, film historians maintain digital archives of Shin's South Korean work, which provides context for why Kim wanted him so badly in the first place.
This isn't just a "crazy North Korea story." It's a testament to the power of art and the resilience of two people who were forced to play the role of a lifetime just to stay alive.