[INTERVIEW] Human prism: Lee Byung-hun

Actor Lee Byung-hun says Korean culture has reached a new level of global impact, while his role in No Other Choice reflects anxiety in an age of automation and uncertainty. In the interview in Seoul, he said the film’s ordinary protagonist, Man-su, is compelling because he slowly convinces himself he can do things he never imagined. Lee also said he worries about how long he can remain relevant as an actor.

Lee said No Other Choice was especially memorable for its first and last job interview scenes, which he described as emotional opposites.

He compared Man-su in No Other Choice to a figure from Modern Times and said the character faces an AI-driven system he cannot adapt to.

Lee said he does not rely heavily on personal experiences for acting, but instead amplifies emotions such as fear, anxiety and desperation.

He said he has been playing villains more often lately, and mentioned his son asking him why he did what he did in Kpop Demon Hunters.

Lee said he often asks himself how much longer he can continue to be an actor people still want to see.

Published Oct 2, 2026 12:00 pm KST

A face between Hollywood and Seoul, between success and anxiety

Actor Lee Byung-hun / Courtesty of BH Entertainment

Between “G.I. Joe” and “ Squid Game,” hero and villain, acclaim and controversy, actor Lee Byung-hun has made the space between worlds a stage for his brilliance. A defining figure of Korean cinema, he absorbs the light and shadow of his time, refracting contradictory elements of desires and anxiety through his life and performance.

A recent Forbes headline offered an unexpected point of connection: “Oracle Has Cut 21,000 Jobs This Year Due to AI, More Layoffs Expected.” The news of workers confronting an uncertain future echoed themes that emerged in a long conversation with Lee last year — a broader exploration of the human condition in an age when familiar boundaries are increasingly difficult to hold.

On a crisp October day, with late autumn settling quietly over Seoul, Lee sat down for an extended conversation at a quiet cafe in Samcheong-dong. The meeting followed a series of encounters at the Venice International Film Festival, in Los Angeles and later in Busan, before the conversation finally continued in Seoul.

On screen, Lee possesses the kind of presence that seems to command the frame itself. Away from the camera, however, another side comes into view: warm, unassuming and effortlessly gracious, with an easy, disarming smile that quickly puts those around him at ease.

On the Lido in Venice, the memory of watching Lee step onto the red carpet and disappear beneath a storm of camera flashes remains vivid. For a moment, he seemed more than a film star — a living embodiment of a cultural moment.

That memory brings a question back to mind: How had this one face become a prism reflecting both the hopes and anxieties of an era?

Actor Lee Byung-hun in a scene from "No Other Choice" / Courtesy of CJ ENM

Korean narratives, global resonance

Q: Korean culture has never seemed more influential than it is today. As someone standing at the very center of that phenomenon, when do you most strongly feel the scale of the Korean wave's global impact?

A: It really made me realize, wow, Korean culture has come such a long way. I’ve done international promotions many times before, but this time felt completely different. “Squid Game” was already huge, but this feels even bigger. There are so many people who first discovered Korean content through shows like “Crash Landing on You.” That’s incredibly gratifying, of course. But honestly, it’s almost a little scary. Sometimes I don’t even know how to take it all in.

Q: It seems audiences around the world aren’t drawn to Korean stories simply because they’re new or exotic. “Squid Game,” for instance, became a modern fable about anxiety, inequality and relentless competition. Why do you think these resonated so deeply across cultures? And as an actor portraying those fears and desires, what emotion stayed with you most?

A: In “No Other Choice,” Man-su works in the paper industry, which is slowly disappearing. In a way, he reminded me of Charlie Chaplin in “Modern Times” — you know, someone who’s struggling to keep up with a world that’s becoming more and more mechanized.

And then, in the final scene, he’s faced with this artificial intelligence-driven system that he just can’t adapt to. He looks completely lost, like he doesn’t know which way to go or what to do next. And honestly, I think theaters today are in a very similar situation. The film industry is, too.

A story for uncertain age

Q: Spaces that once stood at the center of our culture are gradually being pushed to the margins. Audiences are changing, and so is the way we experience stories. That’s why “No Other Choice” feels like a film aimed directly at the heart of our moment. Which scene stayed with you the most while filming?

A: The first job interview and the last one. I love those two scenes because they’re almost complete opposites. Inside, Man-su is just overwhelmed with fear and desperation. But on the outside, he’s trying really hard to look calm and confident, like everything’s fine. I found that contrast really fascinating.

Q: What makes Mansu such a compelling character ?

A: I never really thought of Man-su as someone special. And what really got to me wasn’t watching a good man turn into a monster. It was watching this ordinary, decent person slowly convince himself that maybe he could do things he never, ever imagined he was capable of. That was the part that really stayed with me.

Q: I suppose what the audience should find most frightening when looking at Man-su is not the thought, “That person is different from me,” but rather, “Perhaps I could become like him too.”

A: I don’t think empathy comes from watching something extraordinary. I think it comes when you see someone at their absolute weakest and suddenly think, “I know that feeling.” You see their fear, their desperation, and somehow … you recognize your own. That’s what makes Man-su so heartbreaking.

Actor Lee Byung-hun in a scene from Netflix series "Squid Game" Season 3 / Courtesy of Netflix

Beyond character, discovering human

Q: I see. When you first received the screenplay, what made you decide that this was a project you wanted to take on?

A: When I first read the script, I laughed a lot. But ultimately, the most important thing for me is whether I genuinely enjoyed reading it.

Q: When you say “enjoyment,” it doesn’t seem to mean simple entertainment. It feels closer to the intense attraction that comes from looking into the deepest conflicts within human nature. Over the years, you’ve also become known for portraying complex villains. Have those experiences changed the way you approach a character?

A: People probably think actors draw a lot from their own personal experiences. But honestly, I think we rely on them much less than people imagine. It’s more like we take emotions we’ve experienced in our own lives. Fear, anxiety, desperation, whatever it may be and we kind of amplify them. We make them bigger, deeper, more intense.

Because if we could only act from things we’ve actually experienced, then what? Would I have to become a real monster just to play a villain?

[Reflecting on his role in “Kpop Demon Hunters,”] my son once asked me, “Dad, who are you?” And I told him, “You know that guy who comes out of the fire? That’s your dad.”

At first, he was actually rooting for the villain. But the more he watched, the more he realized, “Oh, this guy is really bad.” And at the end, he looked at me and asked, “Dad, why did you do that?”

My son is finally old enough to watch my movies. And, strangely enough, I’ve been playing villains more and more lately. So sometimes I wonder if he looks at me and thinks, “Wait, is my dad actually a professional villain?”

Q: Over the years, you’ve moved fluidly between hero and villain, Korea and Hollywood, stardom and the vulnerable human being behind it. From your early Hollywood appearances to “I Saw the Devil” and “Squid Game,” those seemingly different selves have become part of one extraordinary journey.

A: I’ve never really thought of them as different worlds. I was simply trying to play each role as honestly as I could.

Q: Today, you are widely seen as the figures who embody the global rise of Korean culture, alongside filmmakers Bong Joon-ho and Park Chan-wook. The path you once crossed between Seoul and Hollywood has become a bridge for a new generation of Korean actors.

Anxiety behind success

Q: After everything you’ve accomplished, do you still feel anxiety about the future?

A: When I think about the possibility of losing everything, that anxiety is always there. I often ask myself: How much longer will I be an actor that people still want to see? How long can I continue to remain relevant?

Those words stayed with the conversation long after the interview ended.

What drives Lee is not simply success or fame. It is the relentless desire to keep searching for better performances while continuing to look directly at the anxieties of his time and the fears that exist within every human being.

As the cafe emptied that afternoon, late sunlight quietly fell across his face. In that moment, he seemed less like a celebrity and more like a reflection of all those living through an uncertain era — a person trying not to surrender his own story, even as the world around him continues to change.

Because at its heart, Korean cinema does not simply show the collapse of a world — it asks how we continue to find humanity within it.

And perhaps that is the most powerful comfort, and the greatest hope, that Korean cinema offers the world today.

演员李秉宪表示，韩国文化的全球影响力已达到新的高度，而他在电影《别无选择》中饰演的角色则反映了自动化和不确定性时代下的焦虑。在首尔的采访中，他表示，影片中平凡的主人公万洙之所以引人入胜，是因为他逐渐说服自己能够做到以前从未想过的事情。李秉宪还坦言，他很担心自己作为一名演员还能保持多久的热度。

李说，《别无选择》最令人难忘的是影片中的第一个和最后一个求职面试场景，他形容这两个场景在情感上截然相反。

他将《别无选择》中的满苏比作《摩登时代》中的人物，并表示这个角色面临着一个他无法适应的人工智能系统。

李说他表演时并不过多依赖个人经历，而是放大恐惧、焦虑和绝望等情绪。

他说他最近经常扮演反派角色，并提到他的儿子问他为什么要在《Kpop Demon Hunters》中那样做。

李说他经常问自己，他还能当多久的演员，才能让观众还想看到他。

发布于2026年10月2日韩国时间下午12:00

一张介于好莱坞与首尔之间、介于成功与焦虑之间的面孔

演员李秉宪 / 图片由BH娱乐公司提供

从《特种部队》到《鱿鱼游戏》，从英雄到反派，从赞誉到争议，演员李秉宪将游走于不同世界之间的空间化作舞台，展现其卓越的才华。作为韩国电影的代表人物，他吸收了时代的光与影，将欲望与焦虑等矛盾元素折射到自己的人生和表演之中。

《福布斯》最近的一则标题提供了一个意想不到的联系点：“由于人工智能，甲骨文公司今年已裁员2.1万人，预计还将有更多裁员。” 这条关于员工面临不确定未来的新闻，与去年我和李的一次长谈中提出的主题不谋而合——在这样一个熟悉的界限日益难以维系的时代，对人类生存状态的更广泛探讨。

十月一个清爽的日子，深秋的气息静静地笼罩着首尔，李在三清洞一家安静的咖啡馆里坐下来，开始了长时间的交谈。此前，两人曾在威尼斯国际电影节、洛杉矶和釜山有过几次偶遇，最终在首尔继续了他们的对话。

银幕上的李拥有一种仿佛主宰整个画面的强大气场。然而，镜头之外，他却展现出截然不同的一面：温暖、谦逊、举止优雅，脸上总是挂着令人如沐春风的笑容，迅速让周围的人感到放松自在。

在威尼斯丽都岛，李安踏上红毯，消失在闪光灯下的那一刻，至今仍历历在目。那一刻，他似乎超越了电影明星的范畴，成为了某种文化现象的鲜活化身。

那段记忆让我不禁想到一个问题：这张脸是如何成为一面棱镜，既反映了一个时代的希望，也反映了那个时代的焦虑？

演员李秉宪在电影《别无选择》中的剧照 / 图片由CJ ENM提供

韩国叙事，全球共鸣

问：韩国文化的影响力似乎从未像今天这样巨大。作为身处这一现象中心的人，您何时最强烈地感受到韩流的全球影响力？

A：这真的让我意识到，哇，韩国文化发展得真快。我以前也做过很多次国际宣传，但这次的感觉完全不同。《鱿鱼游戏》已经很火了，但这次感觉规模更大。很多人是通过《爱的迫降》这样的剧集第一次接触到韩国文化的。这当然让我非常欣慰。但说实话，也让我有点害怕。有时候我甚至不知道该如何消化这一切。

问：似乎世界各地的观众并非仅仅因为韩国故事新颖或充满异域风情就对其感兴趣。例如，《鱿鱼游戏》就成为了一部关于焦虑、不平等和残酷竞争的现代寓言。您认为这些主题为何能跨越文化界限，引起如此强烈的共鸣？作为一名演员，在演绎这些恐惧和欲望时，哪种情感给您留下了最深刻的印象？

A：在《别无选择》中，满洙在造纸行业工作，而这个行业正在逐渐消失。某种程度上，他让我想起了卓别林在《摩登时代》中的角色——你知道，他们都在努力跟上一个日益机械化的世界的步伐。

然后，在最后一幕，他面对着一个他完全无法适应的人工智能系统。他看起来完全迷失了方向，仿佛不知道该何去何从，下一步该做什么。说实话，我认为如今的电影院也面临着非常类似的困境。整个电影行业也是如此。

一个适合不确定年龄的故事

问：曾经处于我们文化中心的那些空间正逐渐被边缘化。观众在改变，我们体验故事的方式也在改变。正因如此，《别无选择》这部电影才显得如此直击我们当下的时代核心。拍摄过程中，哪个场景最让你印象深刻？

A：第一次面试和最后一次面试。我喜欢这两个场景，因为它们几乎完全相反。内心深处，满洙被恐惧和绝望彻底淹没。但表面上，他却努力装出一副冷静自信的样子，好像一切都很好。我觉得这种反差非常引人入胜。

问：是什么让满秀这个角色如此引人入胜？

A：我从来没觉得万洙有什么特别之处。真正让我难以释怀的，不是看着一个好人变成一个怪物，而是看着这个平凡善良的人慢慢地说服自己，也许他能做到他以前想都不敢想的事情。这才是真正让我难以忘怀的部分。

问：我认为观众在看到满洙时最害怕的不是“这个人与我不同”，而是“也许我也会变成他那样”。

答：我不认为同情心来自于观看非凡之事。我认为它来自于你看到某人最脆弱无助的时候，突然意识到：“我懂那种感觉。”你看到他们的恐惧、他们的绝望，不知怎的……你也看到了自己的感受。这就是万洙如此令人心碎的原因。

演员李秉宪在Netflix剧集《鱿鱼游戏》第三季中的剧照 / 图片由Netflix提供

超越性格，发现人性

问：我明白了。您第一次拿到剧本时，是什么让您决定要接手这个项目？

答：我第一次读剧本的时候笑了很多次。但最终，对我来说最重要的是我是否真心喜欢读它。

问：您说的“享受”似乎并非指简单的娱乐，而更接近于深入探究人性最深层的冲突所带来的强烈吸引力。多年来，您也因塑造复杂反派角色而闻名。这些经历是否改变了您塑造角色的方式？

答：人们可能认为演员会从自身经历中汲取很多灵感。但说实话，我觉得我们对自身经历的依赖远比人们想象的要少。我们更像是把生活中经历过的情感——恐惧、焦虑、绝望等等——放大，让它们更强烈、更深刻、更震撼。

如果只能根据我们实际经历过的事情来行动，那该怎么办？难道我必须变成一个真正的怪物才能扮演反派角色吗？

[在回顾自己在《Kpop恶魔猎人》中的角色时，]我的儿子曾经问我：“爸爸，你是谁？”我告诉他：“你知道那个从火里走出来的人吗？那就是你爸爸。”

起初，他其实是在为反派加油。但看得越多，他越意识到，“哦，这家伙真是太坏了。”最后，他看着我问：“爸爸，你为什么要这么做？”

我儿子终于到了可以看我电影的年纪了。而且，说来也怪，我最近演的反派角色越来越多。所以有时候我会想，他是不是看着我心里想：“等等，我爸爸真的是个职业反派吗？”

问：多年来，您在英雄与反派、韩国与好莱坞、明星光环与光环背后脆弱的普通人之间游刃有余。从您早期的好莱坞亮相到《看见恶魔》和《鱿鱼游戏》，这些看似截然不同的自我，共同构成了一段非凡的旅程。

答：我从来没把它们看作是不同的世界。我只是尽我所能地真诚地扮演好每一个角色。

问：如今，您与奉俊昊、朴赞郁等电影人一起，被广泛视为韩国文化走向全球的代表人物。您们曾经走过的首尔与好莱坞之路，如今已成为新一代韩国演员的桥梁。

成功背后的焦虑

问：在你取得这么多成就之后，你还会对未来感到焦虑吗？

答：每当想到可能会失去一切，焦虑感就一直萦绕着我。我经常问自己：我还能当多久的演员，还能让观众一直想看到我？我还能保持多久的热度？

采访结束后，那些话仍然萦绕在人们的谈话中很久。

驱动李安的并非仅仅是成功或名望，而是他孜孜不倦地追求更佳表演的渴望，同时不断直面他所处时代的焦虑以及每个人内心深处的恐惧。

那天下午，咖啡馆里的人渐渐散去，夕阳静静地洒在他的脸上。那一刻，他不再像个名人，而更像是所有生活在动荡时代的人们的缩影——一个努力不放弃自己故事的人，即便周遭世界仍在不断变化。

因为韩国电影的核心并非仅仅展现一个世界的崩塌，而是探讨我们如何在崩塌中继续寻找人性。

或许，这正是韩国电影如今带给世界最强大的慰藉和最大的希望。