AEMA review — Rivalry, sorority, and the unmasking of misogyny in Korea’s film industry

AEMA on Netflix arrives as a bold and emotional limited series that quickly grows beyond its premise. What starts looking like a story about the rivalry between a veteran actress and a rookie turns into something deeply layered, moving through jealousy, solidarity, and resilience in a hostile (and predominantly mysoginistic) industry.

In the course of just six episodes, the show manages to combine shocking revelations with moments of warmth and laughter, leaving a lasting impact on us, viewers.

More than the making of a film

On the surface, the K-drama tells the story of the production of Madame Aema, remembered as South Korea’s first erotic film (Madame Aema is an actual fim. A 1982 South Korean film adapted from Jo Su-bi’s novel, which became a box office phenomenon, one of only two films that year to sell over 100,000 tickets in Seoul).

The series, however, not only take liberties regarding the film itself, but also expands this storyline into a portrait of power, corruption, and survival within an industry designed to consume women. It uses the film as an anchor, but the narrative stretches much further, uncovering how women were pushed into rivalries that served the interests of those around them, used by men and even sold for s*x.

Rivalry turns into sorority

The central conflict between the experienced actress and the newcomer is introduced as a clash of ambition. As the episodes unfold, that rivalry bends into something deeper. By the end, what began as confrontation becomes sorority, offering some of the most moving scenes in the show. The transformation speaks to how powerful it can be when women refuse to play roles imposed by others and choose to stand together instead.

Tearing down the industry’s dark corners

Behind the glamour of the spotlight, he drama exposes the darkest corners of the entertainment world. The series portrays the exploitation hidden behind private parties, the misogyny shaping contracts and decisions, and the distorted way men interpret women’s desire. Yet it avoids generalization. Characters like the agent, the journalist, and even the director of the film emerge as allies, bringing complexity and nuance to the narrative.

Short but powerful character arcs

With six episodes that run just over five hours in total, the scope is compact but striking. Each character, from the leads to supporting and even tertiary figures, receives careful development. Their arcs feel purposeful, their growth believable. The series shows that quality does not depend on length, but on precise storytelling and attention to detail.

Heavy themes with moments of joy

The weight of topics like misogyny, systemic abuse, and exploitation is undeniable. Still, the show does not trap its audience in despair. Sprinkled throughout are scenes of laughter, care, and tenderness. These moments of affection and warmth are vital, reminding us that resilience can be expressed not only through survival but also through the choice to care.

Final verdict for AEMA

AEMA is intense, emotional, and carefully crafted. It takes a controversial film as a starting point but reshapes it into a meditation on solidarity, courage, and growth. The result is a show that is as entertaining as it is meaningful, both a drama of the past and a conversation with the present.

Rating with a touch of flair: 5 out of 5 horseback rides through rush hour in downtown Seoul.