SYNOPSIS

Set in the twilight years of the Joseon Dynasty, The Last Empress dramatizes the life and death of Queen Min (Empress Myeongseong), the last queen consort of Joseon. Spanning roughly 30 years, the story follows her rise to political influence amid growing pressure from foreign powers — especially from Japan, but also from Western nations and neighboring empires who treat Joseon as a pawn in their diplomatic maneuverings. The Queen struggles to preserve national sovereignty while navigating court intrigue and betrayal. The show culminates in her assassination and ends with a symbolic finale in which the Empress and other fallen figures reappear in white, offering assurance that the nation will endure.


REVIEW

🎭 Structure & Thematic Ambition
I’ve now seen The Last Empress many times — largely because Julian Kim plays Emperor Gojong — and I still find the show emotionally distant. Compressing three decades of Korean political history into a single evening makes for a dense, often disorienting experience. The plot jumps quickly between major events, mostly carried by spoken dialogue, and doesn’t allow enough time for emotional arcs to develop. It often feels like “Korean history in fast-forward mode,” which is difficult even for native audiences to digest — let alone international ones unfamiliar with names, timelines, or cultural references.
Thematically, the show leans heavily into patriotic framing, portraying Empress Myeongseong as a dignified figure resisting foreign encroachment. The final scene, where the dead appear in white to console the living, resonates with Korean audiences steeped in historical memory. But for viewers unfamiliar with her symbolic status, the scene may seem overly stylized — even melodramatic — without sufficient emotional buildup.

🎵 Musical Style
The music is slow-paced and operatic in tone, blending orchestration with traditional Korean instruments, especially percussion. This fusion is ambitious, especially with the use of janggu (장구) and buk (북). Early on, I found the music underwhelming — a bit awkward and overly heavy — but after multiple viewings, I came to appreciate its sincerity, with some melodies proving memorable.

One of the most musically and emotionally resonant numbers is the Act II trio, “I Will Bear the Weight of Fate” (운명의 무게를 견디리라). It begins with Gojong’s trembling solo, lamenting the burden of history, followed by the Empress’s reflection on fate and responsibility. General Hong then enters from the rear of the stage, offering a solemn vow. As the three voices join in harmony, Gojong’s deep and dark baritone grounds the piece, while the Empress and General Hong interweave lines of counterpoint. The number exemplifies the production at its best — conveying layered emotion and shared resolve through ensemble structure and musical contrast.

🖼 Staging & Visuals
The Last Empress centers around a large concentric revolving stage, composed of two circular platforms that can rotate independently in either direction. The entire floor is subtly sloped — lower in the front and rising toward the back — creating natural elevation and perspective. Stairs are embedded at the front edge of the elevated circle and become visible when rotated into position, allowing characters to ascend or descend between levels as part of the stage movement itself.

This design enables smooth transitions: figures can simply stand on the edge and be rotated into or out of sight, with kings often appearing at the higher rear platform and ministers or commoners shown at the lower level. The rotation provides a sense of depth and hierarchy without relying on elaborate set changes.

Still, the overall visual impression remains sparse. Most props are actor-carried, and large scenic elements — like a foreign ship — are lowered from above. The dark floor and consistently subdued lighting contribute to a somber tone. Even celebratory scenes like the royal wedding feature only momentary brightness through costumes (e.g., blue-pastel ensembles and the Queen’s wedding robes), while the backdrop remains dim.

Compared to Western musicals with frequent scenic transformations, The Last Empress offers a more restrained visual experience. While this may reflect a deliberate focus on solemnity and symbolism, the minimalism can feel emotionally distant

🇰🇷 Cultural Reception
The musical clearly aims to celebrate national identity and honor a controversial historical figure. Japan is unambiguously portrayed as the aggressor, and the show draws a firm moral line — which aligns with many Korean interpretations of that era. For Korean audiences, this framing evokes emotional resonance. But for global audiences, especially those without a prior understanding of Empress Myeongseong’s story, the narrative risks becoming symbolic without clarity — more historical gesture than character-driven drama.

✍ Final Thoughts
I came back repeatedly for the voice — Julian Kim’s performance carries sincerity and gravity — not for the show itself. Over time, I’ve come to think: it’s not that bad. But it’s also a bit lame. The production is historically ambitious, musically sincere, occasionally moving — but ultimately doesn’t land with full dramatic impact unless you already know what it’s trying to say. For international stages, this show demands careful framing and strong cultural translation to avoid being lost in grandeur without connection.

That said, it’s important to remember that The Last Empress was created nearly 30 years ago. Footage from the original production shows how far the musical has evolved — with more dramatic scoring and adjustments added over time. It’s impressive that the creative team continues to revise the work to better suit contemporary audiences. As the first Korean original musical to feature full orchestration and large-scale staging — including angled, revolving turntables — it must have been groundbreaking in its day. While the show may feel dated by today’s standards, it marked a turning point in Korean musical theater, and the effort to preserve and refine it over decades is something that deserves real respect.