Former "Running Man" star Lee Kwang-soo is making his return to the big screen with "Love Barista," a Korean-Vietnamese romantic comedy that banks heavily on his celebrity status across Asia. The film, which opened in Vietnam last month, is set to hit Korean theaters next week, marking the actor's comeback to cinema after years of television success.
At a press conference held at CGV Yongsan in Seoul on Monday, the room erupted in laughter when Lee admitted he had only just spoken the film's Korean title "Prince Alone" out loud for the first time. The title serves as a playful nod to his nickname "Asian Prince," which he earned during his "Running Man" days. "I don't know, it's just embarrassing," Lee said, visibly squirming with discomfort. "Saying 'Hello, I'm Lee Kwang-soo from Prince Alone' feels awkward coming out of my mouth."
Director Kim Sung-hoon immediately seized the moment for some good-natured ribbing. "Well, you know, I'm not entirely sure how accurate the so-called 'Asian Prince' thing really is," he said, drawing more laughs from the assembled media. This meta-comedy exchange perfectly captures the self-aware nature of "Love Barista," which is essentially a fan film disguised as a cross-cultural romantic comedy.
In the film, Lee plays Joon-woo, a fading Korean celebrity who finds himself stranded penniless in Ho Chi Minh City after his manager accidentally flies home with his passport and wallet. What follows is a culture-clash romance with Thao, played by Vietnamese actress Hoang Hua, an aspiring barista who has never heard of the supposedly famous Korean star. The premise sets up exactly the kind of lighthearted, brains-off entertainment that lives or dies purely on star power.
Throughout the film, Joon-woo cycles through Lee's well-worn "Running Man" persona – the perpetually unlucky, easily flustered man-child – while stumbling through various corners of Ho Chi Minh City without cash or dignity. The movie functions as a star showcase first and cultural exchange second, meaning much of its success rests on whether audiences find Lee charming enough to carry the thin premise for nearly two hours.
Director Kim traced the project's origins back to a 2018 trip to Nha Trang for a film festival. "The landscapes stuck with me," he explained during the press conference. "We started talking with Vietnamese producers about doing something together. I wanted to explore how people communicate when language becomes a barrier – all those expressions and gestures you'd normally miss." The collaboration represents a growing trend of Korean productions turning to Vietnam as a co-production partner.
The shoot brought Lee back to Vietnam for the first time since "Running Man" made him a household name across Asia over a decade ago. "They gave me that 'Asia's Prince' nickname in Vietnam first," he revealed. "So there was this personal pressure to do right by them." Working with Vietnamese actors helped sell the cross-cultural dynamic, he said, even as the language barrier made itself felt throughout production.
One of the film's running gags stems from Lee and co-star Hoang Hua's massive height difference. Director Kim justified the unusual casting by noting the abundance of tall, vertical trees in Vietnam that could help balance the frame. "Plus, when you're already dealing with someone who's basically 2 meters tall, a few more centimeters don't really matter," he added with characteristic humor.
The reunion between Lee and Kim marked 12 years since the pair last collaborated on the musical drama "My Little Hero." "Time flies when you're not paying attention," Kim reflected. "We always talked about working together again. This just felt right – a long-form story where we could really dig into what Lee does best." What Lee does best, apparently, is playing an outsized, almost parodic version of himself.
Joon-woo's anxieties and self-consciousness as a supposedly world-renowned star mirror the real insecurities Lee admitted to feeling about his own career. "The character worries constantly about losing his spot, about younger stars taking over," Lee explained. "I don't think about it quite that obsessively, but I get it. The bottom line is that I'm just grateful to keep working. I love being on set – it energizes me rather than drains me."
Beyond Lee's personal comeback, the project represents something bigger for the Korean film industry. Korean productions have increasingly turned to Vietnam as a co-production partner, chasing returns that the domestic box office alone can no longer guarantee. "Leaving Mom," another Korean-Vietnamese collaboration that opened in October, pulled 2.2 million admissions in Vietnam last month, demonstrating the potential of such partnerships.
Kim sees cross-border projects as necessary rather than optional for the future of Korean cinema. "Korean cinema's in a tough spot. We can't just rely on our home market anymore," he said frankly. "If we can build something that feels authentically Asian rather than purely Korean or purely Vietnamese, that expands what's possible." This philosophy reflects broader changes in how Asian entertainment industries are approaching regional collaboration and market expansion.
"Love Barista" opens in local Korean theaters on November 19, giving domestic audiences their chance to see whether Lee's star power can successfully translate from television variety shows to romantic comedy cinema.
