ANNIVERSARY EDITION
An Interview with Jung Jae-il
Jung Jae-il is not only one of Korea’s most inventive composers but also a boundary-breaking artist whose work has redefined how music, film, and culture can intersect. Born in Seoul, Jung’s journey spans acclaimed collaborations with visionary directors like Bong Joon-ho, most notably for the Academy Award-winning Parasite, the thought-provoking Okja, and this year’s highly anticipated Mickey 17. Yet his creative reach extends far beyond cinema: over recent years, Jung has moved confidently between stage and screen, writing for orchestras and performing live around the world, from Europe to Oceania.
A multi-instrumentalist with roots in everything from Korean folk to avant-garde pop, Jung’s genre-defying language is shaped by both tradition and experimentation. Whether orchestrating for the London Symphony Orchestra at Abbey Road or collaborating with the Seoul Philharmonic, his music is marked by an emotional range that captures intimacy, tension, and hope, all with unmistakable clarity. Dance, visual art, and improvisation are recurring passions, fueling multi-disciplinary projects that embrace new forms and unexpected collaborations.
As The Blank Mag celebrates another anniversary, we spotlight Jung Jae-il for our cover feature, not only for his global influence, but for the restless curiosity, sensitivity, and uncompromising vision that make him one of the most vital artists working today.
How has your relationship with music and listening changed over the past year, especially after your recent performances and collaborations?
In Korea, the film industry is shifting more toward streaming series, and as a composer, I’ve also had to adapt to that landscape. But I’ve been fortunate to receive invitations to perform in Europe and Oceania, and those experiences gave me a sense of possibility, that perhaps my music can also find a life on stage.
You’ve described “art as labour” in past interviews. With your international profile rising, has your perspective on the creative process shifted at all?
Not at all. I still work with the same fear of deadlines, reacting with joy or anxiety to each client’s feedback.
At the end of the day, I remain a freelance composer, one who still lives and works inside that tension.
When preparing for major live performances like conducting the Parasite score, do rehearsals with orchestras lead to new interpretations, or do they present challenges in maintaining your original vision?
When I work with orchestras, I prepare special orchestrations for each piece.
A lot of the sounds in my music are shaped by electronic elements or digital editing, so adapting them for live performance requires a completely different approach.
It’s a delicate process of translating the original textures into something organic on stage.
“Collaborating with orchestras has made me much more attentive to the importance of scores and precision.”
When preparing for major live performances like conducting the Parasite score, do rehearsals with orchestras lead to new interpretations, or do they present challenges in maintaining your original vision?
When I work with orchestras, I prepare special orchestrations for each piece.
A lot of the sounds in my music are shaped by electronic elements or digital editing, so adapting them for live performance requires a completely different approach.
It’s a delicate process of translating the original textures into something organic on stage.
Your recent work on Mickey 17 with Bong Joon-ho required blending dark comedy with music. What shaped your approach for this film, and were there moments where you found yourself rethinking conventions?
Though Mickey 17 is a sci-fi film, nearly all of the scenes take place inside a spaceship, an environment that’s dark, sterile, and emotionally claustrophobic.
As I composed, I kept thinking of Mickey, this poor clone being printed and killed over and over again.
The humans are terrified of the Creepers, but ironically, the Creepers are the ones who want peace. They’re the natives; it’s the humans who have invaded their world. There’s also the delicate love story between Mickey and Nasha.
From the beginning, I wanted to approach this story with classical music. I centred the score around piano and orchestra, deliberately minimising the use of electronic textures.
I was fortunate to record with the London Symphony Orchestra at Abbey Road Studios, and with one of the finest Steinways at Teldex Studios in Berlin.
Looking back at the last year, is there a project or moment, whether a challenge or a success, that feels especially transformative for you as an artist?
There is a great artist in Korea named Kim Min-ki—often described as a Bob Dylan–like figure for his profound cultural and musical legacy. When he passed away, his absence left a deep mark on me. It felt as though every cell in my body had been quietly rearranged by the weight of that farewell.
“I find myself spending much more time seated in front of a computer, creating music in isolation. That contrast has made me feel, more acutely than ever, just how deeply moving live music can be.”
In your work, rehearsal and collaboration often play important roles. Are there lessons or surprises from working with new ensembles or collaborators recently?
I’ve mostly worked in settings where improvisation was central, whether during my years in a band or while working with traditional Korean music. But collaborating with orchestras has made me much more attentive to the importance of scores and precision. It’s been a meaningful shift in how I think about structure and discipline in performance.
With your passion for dance and multi-disciplinary projects, are there artistic paths or dreams you hope to pursue in the coming year, maybe beyond film and TV scores?
I recently had the opportunity to compose a new orchestral piece for the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra, the first orchestral work I’ve written that was actually performed. I was incredibly grateful that the piece was later also performed at Carnegie Hall, and that Maestro Jaap van Zweden responded so warmly to it.
Looking back on my twenties and thirties, I had many opportunities to perform or record my music live. These days, though, I find myself spending much more time seated in front of a computer, creating music in isolation. That contrast has made me feel, more acutely than ever, just how deeply moving live music can be, and how exhilarating the interplay between musicians on stage truly is.
Lastly, as a fun question, I’d love to know what band or artist you’ve discovered this year and loved!
Not a musician, but I saw an exhibition by Anselm Kiefer in Florence this year, and it left a deep and lasting impression on me. I had only known his name, but standing in front of his work felt like being struck by lightning. It was overwhelming—in the best way.