Cannes Spotlight: The Child Prodigy's Triumph and Box Office Tsunami
I stood on the awards stage at the Cannes Film Festival, gazing down at the crowd. When had I ever imagined looking out from such heights? My old life of grueling day labor wasn't bad, but this kind of change was monumental. Something I never could have dreamed of.
Up front, Grandpa Sung-min was beaming as he delivered his acceptance speech. His English was pretty solid too. Of course, at Cannes, saying "bonjour" in French as a greeting had become a sort of tradition. But beyond that, there were no restrictions. You could speak English, Korean—whatever. With an interpreter right there to translate live, you didn't have to use French just because the festival was in France.
But that wasn't all.
"The creator who brought this parasite to life. I received tremendous help from her. In fact, it's no exaggeration to say this parasite came straight from this little girl's mind!"
Grandpa Sung-min had suddenly pointed to me. I froze, my face blank. I'd figured he'd handle everything himself... But he winked at me and handed over the mic!
Every camera swung my way. This was the moment the record for youngest Cannes winner was shattered. I was rooted to the spot. My mind went completely white. I have no idea what I even said. But one thing was certain—the thunderous applause grew even louder.
The Korean media exploded.
The world was shocked—Korea had every reason to be too. Most people had assumed it was all Grandpa Park Sung-min's work, but the moment he said he'd gotten massive help from an elementary school kid named Sora, the story flipped. It spotlighted Sora's genius. And the buzz was off the charts. A first-grader contributing to a Cannes win? It was like something out of a genre novel. No one could help but be amazed. You had to be amazed, or you weren't human. An 8-year-old winning at Cannes? It was like the sun falling from the sky.
The previous youngest Cannes winner was a 14-year-old boy. But now, that record was broken—by an 8-year-old girl.
Korean internet went berserk too.
The comments were all praise. Sure, a few raised doubts, but Sora's prior TV appearance and the rumors proved it was real. Most figured Cannes wouldn't hand out an award without vetting. People were riding high on national pride. The facts mattered, but above all, Korea had won a Cannes screenplay award. That was enough. Grandpa Park Sung-min got the most coverage, but Sora's story was right there too.
Back in Korea, Sora faced a barrage of reporter interviews—the most intense she'd ever seen. Seeing her pale face, Grandpa Park stepped in. She hadn't asked to be outed, after all. But he couldn't claim it all as his own either. This film was Sora's from the start. Or maybe half Man-jae Director's, since he shot it.
Of course, the frenzy didn't last. A week was plenty for public interest to fade. Even outrageously heinous serial killings got forgotten after a week. Internet posts popped up now and then to remind people, but they vanished from news cycles with new hot topics.
Then Parasite, fresh off its Cannes screenplay win, hit theaters. Posters boldly proclaimed the award. And tickets were dirt cheap back then. Even full price was a steal, and with discounts or coupons, half off. They even gave two free tickets for donating blood. In the 2020s, two tickets cost nearly 30,000 won.
Critics who'd attended the preview raved.
From the moment it hit screens, critics poured on the praise. It was Korea's golden age of cinema, and Parasite led the charge—practically the top dog. Kim Man-jae's unique cinematography, plus the script from (or mostly by) a first-grader that not everyone bought but everyone talked about. Parasite nailed the hype.
Grandpa Park Sung-min's dream of 10 million viewers was in sight. News obsessed over it; theaters were packed with Parasite screens. Still, seats sold out. Dozens of screens daily, and tickets at 8,000 won base—no discounts. With deals, under 5,000 won. Compared to 15,000 won in the 2020s, it was worlds apart—nearly double or triple.
No wonder 10-million films dried up after price hikes. Years had three or four; post-hike, sometimes zero.
Audience numbers skyrocketed. An unprecedented surge. The cast prayed with clasped hands.
"Please, please, please, please, please."
Cannes win or not, failing 10 million would be comedic. Just two weeks post-release, Parasite hit 10 million.
The cast reaped the rewards. Rookies among the leads signed dream deals; veterans basked in Cannes glory. But the biggest winner? Grandpa Park Sung-min. Screenwriters usually got peanuts even on hits—100 million won upfront, maybe 100-200 million bonus. Fixed pay, no matter the box office. No wonder directors wrote their own scripts.
But Grandpa Park had sunk half his fortune into production, taking a cut of the profits. And he had no plans to keep it all. The real owner was someone else.