Actor Lee Soon-jae died on November 25, 2025, at the age of 91, leaving behind a life that testified to the essence of acting.
He held to the conviction that "there is no completion in acting," and he defended that belief on stage and screen for more than seven decades.
To younger actors he will be remembered as a model of professional ethics and lifelong learning.
This piece reconstructs his acting philosophy and the legacy he left behind.
Lee Soon-jae's Acting: An Art Always Under Construction
Where the Philosophy Began
There is no finished state in acting.
From his debut in the 1956 play "Beyond the Horizon" (original Korean title: 지평선 너머), his attitude remained steady.
He described himself as a craftsman always at work, and that self-definition grew weightier with time.
At the time, Korea's theater scene needed small-venue experimentation (the small-theater movement), and Lee stood at the center of that shift.
Lee expanded his practice from theater to film, television drama, and variety programs, and he applied the same guiding principle across each platform.
His words and actions could be summed up in a single statement, but they were demonstrated across a lifetime.
He told a 2016 interview that "acting is an unfinishable gem that must be honed over a long time."
However, that line was more than philosophy; it shaped how he worked and chose projects.
He continued to appear onstage and to memorize lines well into his nineties, concrete proof of the belief in practice rather than rhetoric.
His nostalgia for the stage was not sentimental alone.
He helped create a creative environment centered on small theaters, shaping a significant strand of modern Korean theater history.
For him, the stage was a laboratory for experimentation and training and the place where an actor’s skills could fully show.
A Bridge Between Stage and Screen
The stage remained primary.
Lee regarded theater as his first love, and he expanded into television and film based on that foundation.
His approach stayed consistent across media, creating a trust that crossed generations and genres.
Consequently, both broadcasters and audiences came to view his work as a standard of professionalism.
He wanted to begin and end his career on the stage.
That wish was repeatedly confirmed by his words and actions.
He passed on not only technical skill but also a professional attitude to younger performers.
Moreover, his continuing work in his nineties redefined what older actors can do.
This example offers a new role model for arts communities in aging societies, showing that longevity can be an active cultural resource.
The Path of Challenge and Reinvention
He kept challenging himself.
In his seventies he embraced sitcoms; in his eighties he experimented with variety shows; in his nineties he stubbornly memorized two‑hour plays, testing his own limits.
These moves reveal a lifelong learning model that mixed practice with on-the-job experience.
Age was a condition, not a limit.
He treated each project as if it might be his last and gave it his best effort, a stance that set a standard for the next generation.
His transformations were not mere image shifts.
He studied the rhythm and pacing each medium required, and that preparation helped him win the empathy of various age groups.
His career demonstrates the flexibility and discipline of acting as a profession and a way of life.
Photos and records show the range of his activity visually.
Yet more important than images is the acting philosophy and the lessons he passed on.
Those lessons were not simply technical instruction but an attitude and a way of living.
Social Impact and Recognition
He became a textbook example.
The press and younger actors often called him "a living textbook of Korean broadcasting."
That phrase captures the role an actor can play across eras.
In 2024 he received the top acting award from KBS, Korea's national public broadcaster, acknowledging his public recognition late in life.
His awards were both a closing of one era and an opening for the next.
Onstage he accepted honors gracefully and used the moment to make room for younger colleagues.
Evaluation of his career went beyond longevity.
His influence reset standards for performance and re-emphasized professional responsibility.
Teachers and directors frequently cite his remarks and approach in drama education and practical training, making them part of educational resources.
Contrasting Views: Traditional Craftsmanship
He chose the craftsman’s path.
This perspective treats acting as continuous training and professional ethic.
Lee's case supports a classical aesthetic that understands acting as the accumulation of skill through long practice.
For him, actors must endlessly refine themselves to preserve a work’s integrity.
This approach rests on three pillars: attitude, technique, and responsibility.
The point is simple. Acting is part of life, and mastery is a lifelong task.
Long-term stage experience deepens performance, leaving an educational and cultural legacy.
First, the attitude pillar asks actors to commit fully to their roles.
Lee repeatedly urged, "Give your role everything," and he modeled that commitment.
Second, technique is forged by repetition and stage time—small theaters to large houses—where methods are tested and refined.
Third, responsibility means that accumulated experience offers guidance and standards for younger actors.
This tradition helps establish practical norms in training and rehearsal.
Also, the traditional view links acting to social value.
Theater carries community stories, and mature actors bear responsibility for telling them well.
Lee embodied that role, and his influence raised the overall quality of performance.
Contrasting Views: Modern Flexibility and Pragmatism
Others emphasize change and adaptation.
This view treats acting not as a fixed ideal but as a skill that shifts to match media and audiences.
Lee's career showed both tradition and innovation, but the modern reading highlights his active response to change.
Two key points follow: the value of adaptability and the importance of cross-generational communication.
Reinvention can preserve art.
When media and eras change, an actor must adapt for the art to endure.
First, adaptability matters especially in an era of diverse platforms.
Lee moved through sitcoms, variety shows, dramas, and theater, broadening how he expressed himself.
This was not mere survival; it was a cultural contribution that expanded acting’s social reach.
Second, communicating across generations matters as consumption patterns shift.
By performing for different age groups, he helped create shared emotional threads between generations.
The two perspectives need not exclude each other.
Classical mastery and modern flexibility are compatible virtues, and Lee's career is a case where both coexist.
Thus his legacy is richer when understood as a balance of preservation and innovation.
Deeper Meaning and Institutional Implications
His life became a cultural asset.
Lee's practice and attitude offer important lessons for drama education and cultural policy.
First, acting curricula should strengthen practice-centered learning and systems for lifelong learning.
Second, institutions should recognize that supporting older performers contributes to cultural diversity and continuity.
From a policy angle, cultural sustainability depends on the interplay of institutions and education.
His legacy can be reimagined not merely as personal achievement but as a public resource.
Concretely, protecting theater-dedicated spaces, supporting small venues, and building safety nets for older artists are necessary steps.
These are not just budget questions but investments in intergenerational cultural transmission.
Lee's career shows that such investments build long-term cultural capital.
Conclusion and a Question
In short, his belief was lived, not just spoken.
The conviction that acting has no completion is his greatest legacy.
His career records a blend of traditional craftsmanship and modern adaptability.
That legacy should inform theater training, broadcasting institutions, and cultural policy in aging societies.
Ultimately, Lee demonstrated the craft of continual training and a deep sense of responsibility.
His words and deeds provide practical standards for younger actors and invite the public to reconsider the value of performance.
Now the question is institutional: how do we formalize Lee Soon-jae's attitude and pass it on through education and policy?
How will you share his philosophy with the next generation?
