'My Korean Boyfriend' Created Without Korea

K-Drama Sensibilities Blossom into Brazilian Originals

Latin America Moves Beyond Viewing to Direct Reinterpretation

"New Opportunities Through Joint Planning from the Outset"

Netflix 'My Korean Boyfriend' Poster.

The current Korean Wave boom sweeping across Latin America is closer to a process of reinterpretation than simply a surge in popularity. Viewers are now actively recreating the sensibilities embedded in these contents for themselves. Notably, in Brazil, there are even cases where local production companies have adapted the romantic imagery of Korean dramas into original content. According to the '2026 Overseas Hallyu Survey' by the Ministry of Culture, Sports and Tourism and the Korean Foundation for International Cultural Exchange, 7 out of 10 respondents expressed a favorable impression toward Korean cultural content, showing the broad base of its appeal.

The 'Brazil Content Special Report,' released on July 31 by the Brazil Business Center of the Korea Creative Content Agency, provides a concrete look at this phenomenon. The standout example cited is 'My Korean Boyfriend,' released by Netflix Brazil in January this year. This docu-reality show follows five Brazilian women who are either dating Korean men or maintaining long-distance relationships, as they come to Seoul to confirm these relationships in real life. What is especially noteworthy is that there is no original source for this series. It is not a Korean drama or variety show remake; rather, it was independently conceptualized and produced from scratch by Floresta, a subsidiary of Sony Pictures Television in Brazil.

The absence of an original source sets it apart from conventional localization. Localization ordinarily involves adapting a foreign production's language, setting, or format to suit a local market. In the case of 'My Korean Boyfriend,' there was nothing to adapt in the first place. Instead, the producers selected familiar images that Brazilian viewers had internalized from years of watching Korean dramas—such as reunion, consideration, and waiting—and reconstructed them within the framework of Brazil's own romance reality genre. The image of the kind, attentive Korean boyfriend portrayed in the show is less a reflection of actual Korean men, and more an archetype shaped over time by drama conventions and layers of fan interpretation.

Netflix still cut of My Korean Boyfriend.

Brazil’s unique narrative tradition provides the backdrop for this kind of creative reassembly. Brazilian society has cultivated a strong melodramatic tradition centered around telenovelas (long-running Latin American TV dramas). Whereas telenovelas weave together multiple characters and conflicts over long broadcasts, Korean dramas characteristically build up the emotions of one or two relationships gradually within a shorter series. The meeting point of these two contrasting narrative styles gave rise to a romantic experience that feels both familiar and refreshingly new to viewers. Once this accumulated experience reached a tipping point, production companies tapped into it as a direct resource for content planning.

The shift from viewing to content planning makes it difficult to regard Brazilian audiences as mere consumers. As Kim Gyerie, co-researcher at the France-Africa Research Institute of Jeonbuk National University and author of the report, points out, "'My Korean Boyfriend' positions Brazilian female participants as proactive agents who realistically engage with and select images of love inspired by K-dramas." In this structure, the choices made by the participants serve as the driving force of the narrative.

However, this trend is not without its drawbacks. Three major risks are intertwined. First, the more the image of the 'Korean boyfriend' is repeated, the more Korean men are flattened into a single idealized type, ignoring differences of generation, social class, or region. Second, if differences in language, family culture, or emotional expression are only used as sources of conflict, it can become problematic, as these real cultural gaps between the two societies may be overly simplified. Third, the same holds true for Seoul itself. If the city is continually consumed as a romantic backdrop for reunions and love, the realities of housing, labor, and competition are pushed aside. Editing choices that aim to keep up the fantasy may in turn render these subjects one-dimensional.

Netflix 'My Korean Boyfriend' still cut.

This is an area that Korea's content industry should pay close attention to. Rather than treating Brazil merely as a market for completed works, there is a need to approach it as a co-planning market—where local producers, writers, and cultural planners are involved from the initial stages. Korea could contribute content IP and production know-how, while Brazil reflects the emotional currents and genre conventions of its local audience.

Researcher Kim stated, "When local production companies, writers, cultural planners, and consultants participate from the earliest planning stages, Korean culture is not limited to simply providing a romantic or touristic backdrop, but can instead serve as a narrative resource, structuring the conditions of real relationships and lives."

If these collaborations take root, the Korean Wave in Latin America will move beyond simply consuming exported content, into a phase of local reproduction. It remains to be seen in the next stage what kinds of opportunities and challenges this transition will present to the Korean content industry.

This content was produced with the assistance of AI translation services.