Interview: South Korean superstar Lee Min-ho’s curious antihero turn

July 21, 2025

SEOUL – Lee Min-ho needs no introduction in Korea’s entertainment world. Since his breakout as the imperious, poodle-permed Gu Jun-pyo in “Boys Over Flowers” at 22, he’s cornered the market on romantic leads: the tortured chaebol in “The Heirs,” the morally ambiguous mogul in “Pachinko,” the starry-eyed astronaut in the recent flop “When the Stars Gossip.” Always the hero, always front and center.

But for a star who’s built his career on main character energy, this latest role marks a left turn.

In “Omniscient Reader: The Prophet,” a genre-blending fantasy epic hitting theaters Wednesday, Lee plays Yoo Joong-hyuk — a battle-hardened warrior stuck in an endless loop, dying and restarting the apocalypse like it’s just another Tuesday. He stalks the edges of the film in a leather coat, glowering at Ahn Hyo-seop’s earnest everyman who’s trying to save the world armed only with decency and determination.

“I’ll be honest, it was lonely and desolate,” Lee says, speaking to reporters at a coffee shop in Samcheong-dong, central Seoul, Thursday. “If you think about it, this is the protagonist of protagonists. Normally when we talk about a main character, we build their emotional arc throughout the film. My biggest challenge was figuring out how to fill those gaps convincingly.”

It’s not just the brooding, hard-to-like character that makes this turn stand out.

As the first installment in what producers hope will become a franchise based on a hit web novel of the same title, director Kim Byung-woo had to compress the sprawling plotlines for the screen. Yoo Joong-hyuk took the biggest hit. He barely shows up, speaks a handful of lines and arrives without a backstory or context. Viewers are given almost no clues as to who he is or why he matters.

Even his supposed bond with protege Ji-hye, played by Blackpink’s Jisoo — the kind of pairing fans would line up to see — was a mystery to Lee.

“I honestly had no idea how we were even connected,” he says with a laugh. “I was flying blind.”

Still, at 38 and on his fourth feature film, Lee speaks like someone no longer worried about screen time.

“I try to go straight for the essence,” he says. “When I first met the director, we spent 80 percent of our time talking about Dok-ja (Ahn’s character). The audience has to buy into him first. Only then does Yoo Joong-hyuk’s presence start to make sense.”

His approach: ditch the surface-level cool and focus on what the character contributes to the story.

“Reading the script, I couldn’t find a single moment where the guy felt cool. Struggling through flaws and growing — that’s usually what makes someone cool, but the film skips straight to the endpoint,” he says. “So I had to ask: How does this one character carry the weight of the whole world-building?”

That question took him to unexpected places. Yoo Joong-hyuk’s endless loop of death and resurrection led Lee to reflect on mortality, memory and the trap of having too much experience.

“Most people probably dream of immortality,” he says. “But would that really make you happy? I try not to let experience become the only lens I see the world through. That’s how people get stuck. And Yoo Joong-hyuk is forced into experiences he never asked for, over and over. His only way to survive is ruthless efficiency.”

Even the film’s wild premise of a global apocalypse turned into a game show for sentient cosmic beings started to hit close to home.

“We’re becoming more isolated as people, while everything gets more systematized,” he says. “People shine when they’re part of something bigger. And this whole live-streamed survival setup? That’s our world too. Everything’s about being louder, more extreme, competing for attention. It’s the same story — just told through fantasy.”

The stakes for “Omniscient Reader” are high. With a reported budget of 30 billion won and franchise hopes riding on its box office, the film faces the tricky task of winning over hardcore fans while also hooking newcomers who might be thrown by all the interdimensional jargon. Add to that the pressure of a sluggish post-pandemic box office — no Korean film this year has passed 4 million admissions — and this one needs at least 6 million to break even.

Lee, for his part, seems unfazed. This return to film was a promise he made to himself in his twenties, and the numbers, he says, though important, aren’t the point.

“Back then, I went to theaters for catharsis, looking for something meaningful. I told myself I’d wait until my thirties, when I’d have more to offer,” he says. “Now I like these intense, compact, two-hour stories.”

So what does he hope audiences will say? “That it was fun.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “Simple is best. That one word says everything.”