Korean

South Korean officers injured in DMZ explosion, possibly caused by a landmine, according to local media reports.

Three South Korean military officers have been wounded in an explosion in the western sector of the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) that separates North and South Korea, Seoul’s Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) said.

The cause of Monday’s explosion was not immediately clear, the Ministry of Defence said.

Two of the officers were evacuated from the site by helicopter, while the third was transported by land before being airlifted, according to the ministry. The officers are being treated at a military hospital near the capital Seoul, it said.

Mine explosions and other blasts are a recurring hazard in and around the DMZ, where legacy ⁠devices and suspected stray mines have periodically wounded military personnel on both sides.

The DMZ, which is 248km (154 miles) long and 4km (2.5 miles) wide, is one of the world’s most heavily armed borders. An estimated 2 million mines are peppered inside and near the border, which is also guarded by barbed wire fences, tank traps and combat troops on both sides. The zone is a legacy of the Korean War from 1950 to 1953, which ended with an armistice but not a peace treaty.

There have been growing concerns in South Korea about increased activity by North Korean soldiers near the military demarcation line as the North strengthens its border defences during prolonged tensions.

Organisers have apologised for playing the North Korean national anthem for the South Korean men’s hockey team at the Asian Games in Japan.

South Korea, who thrashed Bangladesh 5-0, looked confused as the incorrect national anthem was played.

South Korea’s Yonhap news agency reported that Bangladesh’s national anthem followed before South Korea’s actual anthem was played.

A stadium announcer did apologise for the mistake.

“This is a really serious problem. When we protested, they said, ‘We’re sorry. It wasn’t that it wasn’t prepared; there was a mistake on the part of those responsible for playing it’,” South Korea coach Min Tae-seok said.

“But this is something that simply should never happen.”

North Korea’s national anthem, along with other symbols of the secretive state, are banned in South Korea.

The two countries are still technically at war, after the 1950-53 conflict between the two ended without a peace treaty.

The build-up to the Asian Games, which officially starts on Saturday, has already seen complaints from teams about the quality and amount of accommodation.

A member of the South Korea basketball team posted a video of a leaking pipe and soaked floor in his room, with the caption: “Please help me.”

Some teams were also stranded at the airport for up to six hours when they landed this week.

Field hockey at the Asian Games started on Friday and runs until 3 October.

Organisers in Japan say they had ‘neither the manpower nor the budget’ to deal with the accommodation shortage.

Accommodation at the Asian Games, which start this week in Japan, is the “worst ever”, say South Korean officials, warning of “a serious shortage” of rooms.

Beds in shipping container-style huts are too short for players to stretch out, the South Korean basketball chief said on Monday, while officials from the Philippines resorted to Airbnb.

There is no dedicated athletes’ village for the games, with organisers instead relying on a cruise ship, temporary wooden cabins and hotels to cut costs.

The games in the city of Nagoya in Aichi prefecture officially open on Saturday, but football and basketball are already under way.

Jung Jae-yong, vice president of the Korea Basketball Association (KBA), expressed his displeasure with the cabins where the men’s basketball team is staying.

“Based on my experience, this is the worst it has ever been,” he said.

“Athletes who are over two metres tall cannot even stretch their legs out on the beds. It’s unreasonable.”

Byeon Jun-hyeong, from the basketball team, posted a video on social media showing a leaking sink and a soaked floor in his hut.

“Please help us,” he posted.

The huts are set to be home to 2,000 athletes and officials over the more than two weeks of the games.

Worried about their athletes, Indian sports officials built replicas of cabins to help them get used to the games’ accommodation.

KBA’s Jung accused organisers of failing to respond to South Korea’s concerns.

“The organisers have still not said anything,” he said.

“We are very concerned and discussing extensively with the Korean Sport and Olympic Committee what to do about this.”

Hundreds of athletes were briefly evacuated from their accommodation last week as record rainfall lashed Nagoya.

More rain has been forecast in the coming days.

‘Serious shortage’ of accommodation

More than 17,000 athletes and officials are expected at the games — a bigger number than the Olympics.

Organisers were initially expecting 15,000 and argued last month that they had “neither the manpower nor the budget” to deal with ballooning numbers.

The Olympic Council of Asia later said everyone would get a place to stay.

Star cricketers have voiced fears about a lack of top-notch hotels.

A Korean Sport & Olympic Committee (KSOC) official agreed that problems persist with the games just days away.

“At the moment, there is a serious shortage of accommodation not only for the entire South Korean delegation to the Asian Games, but for delegations from around the world in the Aichi-Nagoya area,” the official said.

“We are doing everything we can to resolve the issue and ensure there are no such problems.”

Philippine Olympic Committee president Abraham Tolentino said all athletes from his country had been given a room. However, “some officials, like coaches, were moved to different hotels and Airbnb”.

The Italian cruise ship Costa Serena is due to arrive in Nagoya on Tuesday. Between 4,000 and 5,000 athletes will stay on the vessel.

The rest will be accommodated in hotels, including in Tokyo, where swimming, diving and equestrian events will take place.

VENICE, Italy — “My actual personality is not very friendly, I’m afraid,” claims Korean actor Jeon Do-yeon. “Myself and actor Sul Kyung-gu, we can be a little bit brusque. We don’t really have the talent to make the set fun.”

As she says it, though, Jeon and co-star Cho Yeo-jeong are laughing — making the assertion rather harder to believe when it arrives in English from Korean via an interpreter. Throughout our conversation, in fact, the pair chuckles, nods along to each other’s answers, interjects sounds of assent. Enough for me to understand that their chemistry comes naturally, whatever Jeon’s protestations.

“In the film I play a character that chases [Jeon’s character] and it really suited me, almost to the point where I didn’t really need to try and act this role,” as Cho puts it. “I was almost like a sunflower, constantly facing and chasing actor Jeon.”

The actors needed every ounce of the sublime chemistry they forged to portray the magnetic but fatally flawed relationship at the heart of auteur Lee Chang-dong’s first film in eight years, “Possible Love,” which premiered Sunday at the Venice Film Festival. South Korea’s international feature submission for the 2027 Oscars, the Netflix film sees Ye-ji (Cho), a documentarian married to a wealthy businessman (Zo In-sung), cozy up to Mi-ok (Jeon), whose husband (Sul) has been seriously injured in a brutal crackdown on striking factory workers, in order to secure an interview with him — only for divisions of class and professional ambition to expose the fault lines in their relationship, and in turn their marriages.

“It seems like they want to be friends with each other, but then there seems to be a line that just cannot be crossed between them,” says Lee, also through an interpreter, of the actors’ accomplished double act, referring to a scene in which Ye-ji bristles at Mi-ok’s suggestion that her high-end clothes are out of place interviewing unemployed laborers. “[Jeon and Cho] knew of that and they went into shooting that scene knowing that it was quite challenging to express. There were, of course, some things that were up to the camera in bringing that about, but I think that was a scene where the two were able to express just how nuanced and quite strange the relationship can be.”

The film itself is just as slippery and multi-layered, down to Lee’s heady admixture of documentary and dramatic aesthetics. Inspired by real-life labor conflict in South Korea, “Possible Love” uses Ye-ji’s nonfiction study of laid-off workers as a window into the lives of ordinary people swept up in large-scale social change, against the backdrop of which the two women’s competing priorities are thrown into stark relief. Can a filmmaker who totes a $4,000 Lora Piana backpack, however well-intentioned, truly understand the plight of the working class? Is a subject eager to publicize a political struggle prepared for the risk that her personal privacy will be invaded in the process?

To choreograph the film within the film — so compelling that I almost missed seeing its conclusion when “Possible Love” shifts the focus to interpersonal fireworks in the third hour — Lee cast a real-life documentary director and cinematographer as Ye-ji’s crew, lending what Cho calls their “natural energy” to the movements of the camera. Cho herself prepared by consulting the late master of the form, Frederick Wiseman, who was unabashed about the tension between documentary filmaking’s often radical politics and the privilege required to turn it into a profession.

“[Wiseman] was posed the question by some students studying film and documentary: ‘How can I pursue this work in reality?’” she recalls. “And he replied with the immortal words, ‘Marry a rich man.’ And you know, I was preparing for the role of Ye-ji, so it was such an apt response for her situation.”

Jeon, left, and Cho in “Possible Love.”

(Joo Jae-bum/Netflix)

The potential for conflict bursts into the open at a seaside home that has been in Ye-ji’s husband’s family for years, where the group has decamped for a supposedly restorative holiday. Reminded of the setting by the location of our conversation — a set of green-curtained, pink-carpeted suites at the Hotel Excelsior, overlooking the northern shores of the Adriatic — I ask the actors what’s going through their characters’ minds when Mi-ok and Ye-ji’s promising connection ultimately severs.

Mi-ok “doesn’t really want to reveal to anyone else what’s going on in the family … She only wants to show the good side that they are trying to live their best life and trying to improve and move forward with hopefulness,” Jeon says, citing an early scene in which Mi-ok asks the crew not to film her son’s awkward taekwondo at a school field day. When the camera’s prying eye becomes more intrusive, though, she “feels a great sense of betrayal, that her family is being used and exploited.”

For Cho, who says Ye-ji is “constantly balancing the ethical dilemma” between documenting the truth and treating her subjects with care, the break was always inevitable, and no amount of Ye-ji’s remorse or guilt can repair the damage.

Against this microcosm of the class war Lee sets the emergence of artificial intelligence, which threatens to further destabilize labor across a range of industries — including his own. Although he’s uncertain if, when or how AI will “intrude” on the “entirely creative” filmmaking process, the “Poetry” and “Burning” director is already using it for everyday tasks.

“Before going to see the doctor, I like to ask AI all the symptoms that I have, ask what’s wrong with me. Or I would ask, you know, ‘What’s the weather like in Venice?’” he says. “AI gives us instant answers, and it goes even beyond that to where it gives you advice these days. And in that sense, AI has indeed really gotten deeply intertwined in my daily life.”

Similarly, Jeon is open to using AI for more “trivial” matters, such as simultaneous translation from English to Korean and vice versa. But she admits to more “extreme thoughts” than Lee about the technology’s role in the future of screen acting.

“I’m going to be starring in a [Korean-language adaptation] of Anton Chekov’s “The Cherry Orchard” upcoming in New York. And I was wondering, actually, is the stage the last place that cannot be conquered by AI, and will not be replaced by AI?”

Perhaps. But the scene in “Possible Love” that best captures the finely honed chemistry of its female leads, in which Mi-ok and Ye-ji drunkenly bond over soju and Korean barbecue as their bemused husbands look on, seems to me beyond the capabilities of AI — it’s too warm, too meticulously rendered to be anything other than fully human, the sort of acting one hopes the Venice jury will remember when it hands out the Volpi Cup for best actress on Saturday.

“It is quite difficult technically and practically — it was a scene that we shot all night long,” Cho says. “But I remember shooting it with a lot of pleasure.”

No protest there.

This is Galaxy Robot Park, a 16,500-square-meter venue that’s opened near Seoul in South Korea . The company behind the park says their aim is to bring artificial intelligence and robotics into the world of entertainment. The question is, can robots keep people coming back?