Red Hare

적토
A small-theatre musical reimagining the legend of Red Hare from the Three Kingdoms through the perspective of a horse. Rather than retelling heroic battles, it becomes a philosophical fable about war, loyalty, and choice. Inventive staging stands out, though occasional narration softens the edge.
Musical Reviews › Korean Original › 2026
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Premiere:
2026
Attended:
2026
Venue:
SH Art Hall
SYNOPSIS & REVIEW
SYNOPSIS
The musical tells the story of the legendary warhorse Red Hare from the perspective of the horse itself.
Two foals are born in the same stable. One is destined to become a warhorse and is given the proud name Jeokto, meaning “Red Tiger.” The other is born to a farm horse and is expected to live the quiet life of a plough horse. Yet the second foal dreams of becoming a warhorse as well.
When he challenges the warhorse to a fight and loses, the victor mockingly gives him the same name—Jeokto. Although the two names are pronounced the same, they carry different meanings: the warhorse’s name refers to the “Red Tiger,” while the farm foal’s name means “Red Hare.” To avoid confusion, this synopsis refers to them as Red Tiger and Red Hare.
As they grow, the ambitious warrior Lu Bu becomes fascinated with Red Tiger after seeing the horse. Dong Zhuo promises to give him the prized warhorse if he betrays and kills his adoptive father. After struggling with the decision, Lu Bu ultimately commits the betrayal.
At the stable, however, people approach Red Hare and equip him with horseshoes and a saddle. Instead of Red Tiger, Dong Zhuo gives Lu Bu Red Hare, claiming that the horse has the same fur color and an identical name. Furious at the deception and attempting to reject the horse, Lu Bu hesitates, but Red Hare persuades him to accept the bond between rider and horse. The two are trained together and soon become a formidable pair on the battlefield.
On the battlefield, Lu Bu confronts Dong Zhuo while riding Red Hare. Red Tiger challenges Red Hare but ultimately falls. Red Hare explains that Red Tiger’s downfall was partly caused by decorative horseshoes forced upon him for appearance rather than practicality. Lu Bu also kills Dong Zhuo.
Lu Bu and Red Hare now stand as the only “Jeokto” remaining in the Eastern Han. Their rise comes to an end when Lu Bu is defeated and killed by the forces of Cao Cao. Left without a master, Red Hare falls into despair and becomes an anonymous warhorse ridden by whoever needs him in battle. Reduced to a tool of plunder and war crimes, he begins to think of himself as nothing more than meat for the butcher.
Zheying, Cao Cao’s horse, becomes his mentor and advises him to search for a master himself. Eventually Red Hare encounters Guan Yu, who is temporarily serving under Cao Cao after being captured. Guan Yu proposes that they ride together. Red Hare declares that he will not follow a path that is not righteous, and the two recognize that they share the same philosophy of life. Together they break through Cao Cao’s guarded passes and escape.
Guan Yu and Red Hare achieve repeated victories. Eventually they face Cao Cao and Zheying in battle, and despite their deep respect for one another, Zheying and Red Hare cannot avoid fighting. When Red Hare falls and Zheying is about to declare victory, Zheying discovers that he has been fatally wounded and dies.
Later, when Guan Yu attempts to kill Cao Cao, Red Hare refuses to carry him forward and begs him to spare his enemy. Guan Yu accepts the advice and tells Cao Cao that their accounts are now settled.
Red Hare and Guan Yu continue to triumph in battle until Guan Yu is eventually struck by arrows and dies. The horse mourns his fallen rider.
With no master left to carry, Red Hare returns to the stable where he was born. His father reminds him that all beings ultimately return to the earth. Without a saddle, the horse feels strangely light and unfamiliar with himself. Looking back on the life he has lived—running through human wars and carrying the ambitions of others—Red Hare wonders whether the saddle had given him the freedom to run across the world, or whether it had bound him forever to the endless cycle of human conflict.
REVIEW
Among Chinese historical narratives, the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, set during the late Eastern Han period, remains one of the most frequently dramatized stories in the world. Guan Yu in particular has long been revered in Chinese culture as a symbol of loyalty and righteousness. In Korea, however, it is not uncommon for original musicals to draw upon stories originating from other cultural traditions. This production approaches the material from an unusual angle: rather than centering on human heroes, it retells part of the history of the Eastern Han through the perspective of the legendary horse Red Hare.
The work was developed with support from the Creative Musical Incubation Project’s “New Works of the Year” program and is presented by the theatre company Juk-Dal (죽도록 달린다). Upon entering the theatre, a staff member by the glass entrance door opened it and greeted me with a polite “Hello.” Similar greetings followed at the program booth and again at the entrance to the auditorium. It was an unexpected experience in a Korean theatre setting and created a sense of warmth even before the performance began.
The theatre itself evoked a sense of nostalgia. Its somewhat aged interior recalled the small theatres I frequented during my university years. The stage design suggested a stable, with rough wooden walls and side stalls where actors entered, exited, and waited during the performance. The cast consisted of two women and ten men, a relatively large ensemble for a small-theatre production. Although there were only two female performers, the vocal balance remained full and effective.
While the narrative draws upon the well-known story of Red Hare from the Three Kingdoms tradition, the piece functions less as a historical drama than as a philosophical fable told from the perspective of a horse. Audiences expecting a conventional retelling of heroic exploits may therefore find the approach somewhat unexpected. Instead, the work raises broader questions: whether the saddle represents freedom or restraint, how a horse might understand human warfare, and what concepts such as righteousness and loyalty might mean when seen from outside the human world.
The introduction of Red Tiger, a horse not found in historical accounts, serves as an effective dramaturgical device. His presence heightens the narrative arc of Red Hare, who begins life as a seemingly insignificant horse but gradually emerges as the central figure of the story. Red Hare’s father, an ordinary plough horse, provides the philosophical foundation of the narrative with a simple line:
“Everyone eventually returns to the stable where they were born.”
Red Hare’s first master is Lu Bu, under whom he is trained and introduced to the world of ambition and warfare. Another important mentor figure is Zheying, the warhorse of Cao Cao. Zheying teaches Red Hare that although it appears humans choose their horses, horses in fact choose the riders they will carry. The lesson ultimately concerns agency: one should not despair while waiting to be chosen but instead continue searching for one’s own path.
Red Hare’s relationship with Guan Yu extends beyond that of master and warhorse. The two figures are portrayed almost as companions bound by shared ideals of loyalty and righteousness. When Red Hare resists the pull of the reins and moves toward what he believes to be the right direction, Guan Yu accepts and understands even this small act of resistance. In doing so, Guan Yu appears as an even greater figure—defined less by authority than by his capacity for understanding.
After Guan Yu’s death, Red Hare returns to the stable where he was born and reflects upon the course of his life. The ending carries a somewhat open quality. However, the final image—reminiscent of the “Circle of Life” motif from The Lion King—slightly softens the philosophical tension developed earlier in the narrative by reframing it within a more familiar cycle-of-life symbolism.
The physical representation of the horses was particularly noteworthy. The performers wore cowboy-style fringe jackets and skirt-like costume elements suggesting the form of a saddle, while Red Hare was visually distinguished by vivid red leather. The actors themselves produced horse sounds—snorts and neighs—which proved unexpectedly natural and convincing. Riding sequences were staged by placing the actor portraying the horse in front while the rider stood slightly behind with a hand on the shoulder, both moving in synchronized rhythm. This simple staging effectively conveyed the sensation of horseback movement.
The rough, stable-like set design evoked the sensibility of traditional theatre, and many scene transitions were carried out directly by the actors, reinforcing the production’s theatrical language. Musically, the score appeared to rely primarily on keyboard-based instrumentation, employing synthesizers and electronic drums to create a somewhat dreamlike atmosphere.
The musical numbers played a central role in advancing the narrative. The battle duets were particularly memorable, especially the confrontation between Red Hare and Zheying. In one striking staging choice, Guan Yu and Cao Cao remain in darkness while the horses themselves engage in combat in the foreground—an image consistent with the work’s horse-centered perspective. The mutual respect displayed between the opposing horses also left a strong impression. Among the solo numbers, the song in which Red Hare resolves to seek his own master carried the greatest emotional weight.
Because the work emphasizes philosophical reflection and employs a distinctly theatrical mode of storytelling, it asks the audience to approach it with a certain openness of mind. Yet the attempt to reinterpret historical narrative from the perspective of an animal remains a striking and refreshing idea.
Because the protagonist is a horse, the production occasionally relied on explanatory narration. At times, however, the explanation felt somewhat excessive. Allowing the comic timing to reach its full climax before introducing the reversal might have given the narrative progression a clearer dramatic shape.
Despite its small-theatre scale, the production stands out as a memorable work that combines philosophical inquiry with theatrical expression. Rather than reconstructing the heroic narrative of the Three Kingdoms, the musical ultimately functions as a philosophical fable observing human warfare and human choice from the perspective of a horse.
All photos in this gallery were taken personally when photography was allowed, or are of programs, tickets, and souvenirs in my collection.






