Shaving My Head Was a Statement of the Character’s Imperialist Obsession

In March 2024, actor Park Hoon received joyful news: he won the Best Supporting Actor award at the 17th Asian Film Awards (AFA) in Hong Kong for his role as Moon Il-pyeong in 12.12: The Day. Fast forward to the new year of 2025, and the film Harbin, in which he stars, topped the box office for three consecutive weeks, attracting over 4 million viewers. Directed by Woo Min-ho, Harbin premiered on December 24, 2024, dominating domestic box office charts. Set in 1909, the film tells the story of Korean independence fighters led by Ahn Jung-geun (1879–1910), who plotted to assassinate Ito Hirobumi, Japan’s first Prime Minister and Governor-General of Korea, in Harbin, China. Korea was under Japanese colonial rule from 1910 to 1945. In Harbin, Park Hoon portrays Mori Tatsuo, a Japanese soldier. How did he interpret and embody such a complex character?

- Looking at your notable works, including the dramas Descendants of the Sun, Memories of the Alhambra, Nobody Knows, and films like Confidential Assignment 2: International and 12.12: The Day, it’s hard to pinpoint your actual appearance since your hairstyle and physique vary so much.

That’s intentional—I don’t want to be confined to a fixed image. I aim to adapt to each role, which means constantly growing and cutting my hair and beard or gaining and losing weight. I also collaborate closely with stylists on the costumes my characters wear. It’s fine if people don’t immediately recognize me as “Park Hoon”. After all, an actor’s job is to present their character, not themselves.

- Your shaved head in Harbin drew a lot of attention.

For an actor, transforming for a role is a given. Shaving my head was a visual tool to emphasize that Tatsuo was deeply immersed in imperialist ideology. I intentionally shaved midway through filming to show how his obsession intensified as the story progressed. Overall, I aimed to portray Tatsuo in a very conventional way— He’s simply a villain—someone who commits evil acts and embodies the mindset of a warmonger. I felt this approach aligned with Director Woo Min-ho’s vision for the character.

- Director Woo Min-ho personally called to offer you the role of Mori Tatsuo.

Yes, we first crossed paths during The Man Standing Next, though my scenes were ultimately cut. A few years later, while I was working on 12.12: The Day, he called and briefly explained the project and character. When I later read the script, Tatsuo struck me as a symbolic and multifaceted figure. In my interpretation, Ito Hirobumi (played by Lily Franky) represents Japan’s ideological spirit, while Tatsuo embodies the actions that put those ideas into motion. Together, they reflect the imperialist Japan of that era. I approached the role with this concept in mind.

- The behind-the-scenes story of the Shin Asan Battle, which marks Tatsuo’s first appearance, is intriguing. The actors covered in snow and mud, their frostbitten red ears, and the visible puffs of white breath really caught my eye. How tough was it on set?

It was grueling for everyone—cast and crew alike—but in a way, it was also a stroke of luck. That day, Gwangju experienced its heaviest snowfall in decades, which made the shoot feel incredibly authentic. The snow even caused parts of the set to collapse, but instead of being a problem, it added a raw, realistic touch. Before the battle starts, when Ahn Jung-geun and his comrades are talking at the foot of the hill, there’s this fierce gust of wind—it wasn’t from a wind machine; it happened naturally at that moment. It was so cold that delivering lines was a struggle for everyone, and with mud everywhere, the action scenes couldn’t be as precise as planned. But all of this added to the sense of realism in depicting the chaos of war. Originally, the Shin Asan Battle scene was supposed to be a nighttime sequence. However, to capture the chaotic and visceral energy of the battlefield, it was changed to a daytime shoot in that muddy, snow-covered setting.

- Three days before the assassination, Tatsuo’s group ambushes Ahn Jung-geun and his comrades at the Taedong kongbo newspaper agency in Russia. Tatsuo’s desperate pursuit of the carriage carrying Ahn Jung-geun and Madame Gong, armed and alone, left a strong impression on audiences.

We filmed that scene in the streets of Latvia, but I remember how little time we had. There was a moment when I had to fall while running, and I was supposed to wear padding for safety. But given the time crunch, I just said, “Let’s do it without it.” That’s how pressed we were. Knowing it was a one-shot opportunity, I focused on nailing the scene, and honestly, I didn’t even feel the pain when I hit the ground.

- In this scene, Tatsuo captures Lee Chang-seop (played by Lee Dong-wook). Chang-seop unfavorably compares him to Ahn Jung-geun, calling him “a far nobler human being” and even mocking him as a "fool”. Only after hearing these words that Tatsuo finally decide to pull the trigger.

While filming this scene, I was so startled by Lee Dong-wook’s intense portrayal that I actually ruined a take. (Laughs) I’m familiar with the approach of surprising the audience by firing the gun mid-dialogue, but I wanted to avoid such a commercialized take on the moment. Instead, I focused on portraying Tatsuo as someone who barely registers what Chang-seop is saying, reflecting his disdain for the Korean language and, by extension, his condescension toward Koreans. Rather than the words, I concentrated on Chang-seop’s breathing. Even through the sound of his breath, you can sense how he feels about Tatsuo. As Tatsuo listens, he realizes Chang-seop isn’t someone who will be broken through interrogation. That’s why he ends it right then and there.

- In the one-on-one dining scene with Kim Sang-hyun (played by Jo Woo-jin), the sense of contempt was palpable. Tatsuo placed a steak on Kim’s plate as if throwing food to an animal, revealing exactly how he viewed Koreans.

I wanted to convey a quiet, unsettling fear through minimalist acting. When cutting the steak and throwing it onto the plate, I kept my movements restrained, avoiding any unnecessary drama. The same approach applied to the earlier scene where Tatsuo tortures Kim while wearing a gas mask. There’s a moment in that scene where their hands briefly touch. Rather than reacting dramatically, I slowly pulled my hand away, amplifying the tension without overt gestures.

- The scene in Chaegagu Station where Tatsuo shoots Woo Deok-soon (played by Park Jung-min) and beats Kim Sang-hyun takes place in a confined space, which adds significant pressure.

Even in such tight quarters, cinematographer Hong Kyung-pyo managed to create dynamic angles, which I found truly impressive. My goal for this scene was to shift the warm, heartfelt atmosphere built by Woo Deok-soon and Kim Sang-hyun’s emotional conversation into one of tension and unease with Tatsuo’s arrival. I must give special praise to Park Jung-min. He’s like a brilliant wildcard on set. With each take, he would try something new and then ask, “Is this, okay?” I’d always respond, “It’s perfect, Jung-min!” because his ever-changing performance allowed me to explore different ways to react as Tatsuo. It became a truly collaborative and dynamic experience.

- At Harbin Station, some thought Tatsuo had died after being stabbed by Madame Gong’s knife.

Maybe I acted in the scene too intensely! (Laughs) While filming, I suggested to the actor playing Madame Gong that instead of simply attacking Tatsuo, it might be more impactful if Madame Gong blocks his way. I wanted to highlight how each comrade—Madame Gong, Lee Chang-seop, and Woo Deok-soon—played a crucial role in enabling Ahn Jung-geun to succeed in his mission. By portraying their sacrifices and teamwork, the film truly becomes, as the director envisioned, a story about Ahn Jung-geun and the comrades who stood by his side.

- How did it feel to shoot Tatsuo’s final scene?

I think it’s more fitting to call it the scene where Kim Sang-hyun takes responsibility for tying up loose ends. So, while filming, I focused less on Tatsuo’s death and more on Kim Sang-hyun’s actions and what they meant for his next steps. As a fun anecdote, there’s a moment where Tatsuo asks, “Where is Kim Gu?” While filming that line, I couldn’t help but chuckle internally, as I had previously played Kim Gu in the drama The Nokdu Flower. It felt like a small, amusing coincidence.

- Whenever asked about how you became an actor, your childhood memories of watching TV in a mining village always come up.

I grew up in a rural area without a movie theater. Instead, I endlessly watched Hollywood and Hong Kong films on video, which were popular at the time. I didn’t step into a theater until I was in my twenties, and the first movie I saw was Shiri. It wasn’t just the film itself that amazed me—the massive screen and the audience streaming out afterward, all saying, “That was incredible.”, left a deep impression on me. Standing in the restroom after the film, I made up my mind: I want to be on that screen someday. In truth, I had dreamt of becoming a movie actor since my teens, but I didn’t know how to pursue it. Following my parents’ advice not to retake exams, I enrolled in a musical theater program. I started my career with plays in Daehak-ro (Translator’s Note-a well-known theater district in Seoul), and when drama offers came along, I accepted them gratefully. However, as my drama schedule filled up, I found myself unable to do films. It felt like I might never get the chance to fully focus on movies. Determined, I decided to devote 4–5 years entirely to films, no matter the obstacles. That decision led me to mega-hits like 12.12: The Day, and films like Harbin, which I believe will remain remarkable even years down the line. I used to tell myself, One day, I’ll become a movie actor. And now, that day has finally come.

- Your comment in an earlier interview, “It would have been hard to endure without being an optimist,” comes to mind.

In a way, optimism has always been a form of comfort for me. By telling myself that things will improve and turn out well, I’ve protected myself. I’ve done this since my theater days. Before stepping onto the stage, I used to cast a kind of spell, telling myself that as soon as the final curtain opened, I could become someone else. Now, my way of self-preservation is different: I give everything I have until the very last take, and then I let myself go. To last as an actor, I believe it’s essential not to tie the success or failure of a project directly to your own. It’s the only way to sustain yourself in this career.

Written by Lee Yoo-chae Photos by Oh Gye-ok Translated by Jang Yuri