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Microdrama: Money, Morals & the Space Race
SIZE : 245mm(W)x260mm(H)
BLEED: Height 10mm x Width 15MM DATE: 17.09.2025
Macro view on micro drama with Bamboo Network’s Dabin Chung PLUS Inside K-pop Demon Hunters, Dear Stranger & The Resurrected
The scandal is only half the story
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Creators can hold their noses until they die at cheesy scripts and over-the-top drama... but microdramas aren’t going anywhere but mainstream. What started as shock-and-awe growth that dazzled boardrooms is now a full-blown debate across the industry about how to weave bitesized, vertical storytelling into the mainstream production and entertainment business.
No title, theme or storyline seems too salacious in the current microdrama boom. Growing alongside the slate of headline grabbers is a movement with more modest values and still consistent with mobile-first entertainment demands.
Bamboo Network is a frontrunner in serialised micro-reality, with hits such as The Bedmate Game: Sharehouse and Eluvator. Dabin Chung, CEO of the Seoulbased production house, talks about trends, scale, IP and creating an ecosystem of co-growth. 16
Dear Stranger adds film festival acclaim to Taiwanese telco Far EasTone Telecom’s content investment portfolio. Gary Tsai, COO – Digital Entertainment, friDay Video/Far EasTone Telecom, spoke to Janine Stein about what drives content investment decisions; Susan Hornik talked to the film’s writer/ director Tetsuya Mariko.
Winners of the 6th annual ContentAsia Awards – the second to be held in Taiwan –were announced along with the winners of the first ContentAsia Viewers’ Choice Awards at a live+live-streamed ceremony in Taipei on 4 September. 34
From record-breaking dramas to award-winning documentaries, Media Prima showcases Malaysian stories that resonate at home and shine abroad.
Maggie Kang, the creator and director of Netflix’s most popular movie ever, talks about Korean culture, mythology, demons, music and the opportunity to create a new kind of female superhero.
The serialised vertical drama boom has set off a race for facilities that can accommodate compact sets, lean budgets and accelerated schedules. 42
Taiwanese director Leste Chen trades in big ideas for new Netflix series, The Resurrected, about two mothers who bond over shared determination for revenge. But he avoids political fingerpointing, says Patrick Frater
38
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Creators can hold their noses until they die at cheesy scripts and over-the-top drama... but microdramas aren’t going anywhere but mainstream. What started as shock-and-awe growth that dazzled boardrooms is now a full-blown debate across the industry about how to weave bite-sized, vertical storytelling into the mainstream production and entertainment business.
The next wave of microdramas could see production budgets escalate to US$600,000 per series, driven primarily by Chinese platforms accelerating investment into premium content. Right now though, producers in the rest of Asia look, laugh and settle for full-series (60-80 mins) budgets in the US$50,000 to US$75,000 range. In some markets, this tops out at US$150,000, with most current titles made for between US$75,000 and US$100,000.
There’s also a thriving market for finished scripts, which sell for around US$10,000 each.
In the U.S., series production budgets range from US$150,000 to US$200,000 (max US$300,000) for 80-minutes. U.S.-based analysts, Owl & Co, caps current production budgets at US$250,000.
Source: Media Partners Asia (MPA)
Although not as vibrant as China or the U.S., U.K. producers are venturing into the vertical space, being paid between £1,500/£2,000 to £3,000/4,000 per episode for a 60-episode series. Brands are boosting activity, paying between £20,000/US$27,000 and £30,000/£40,000 for 20 to 30 episodes of a one-off series built around their product.
“Money in microdrama is already a subject of heated debate,” says U.K.-based director and format creator, Jonathan Glazier, who just published a three-part deep dive into microdrama as part of his alt.media Substack platform. Glazier is currently developing shows for broadcasters and platforms in the Philippines, Bhutan, India and Singapore, following three recent commissions in the region.
“There is no single route to [microdrama] funding,” Glazier tells fel-
A NEW STORY BEGINS. SURVIVAL. SECRETS. AN UNEXPECTED LOVE.
Vertical video platform commissions are “the old television model in new clothes”, where platforms fund production, pay a producer’s fee and take ownership of everything.” .
Jonathan Glazier Director & Format Creators, and Founder, alt.media
low producers, listing a seven-point directory of choices. These include self-, brand-, and platform-funded as well as dedicated platform commissions, which he calls “the old television model in new clothes”, where platforms fund production, pay a producer’s fee and take ownership of everything.
Glazier outlines four levels of series budgets, beginning with nano of between £500/US$670 and £2,000/US$2,700, shot on phones with friends, and rising to platform funded budgets of £300,000+/US$400,000+. He also reports top-end productions at US$600,000 per title.
In between come indie budgets of between £5,000/US$6,700 and £20,000/US$27,000. These involve a small professional team, hired kit, locations and licensed music (In other words, “enough to look polished,” Glazier says).
Studio budgets of above £50,000/US$67,000 are also in the mix. These involve a full production crew, set builds and professional actors, and are often linked to brand or broadcaster support.
A sample production budget of around US$220,000 includes US$7,000 for a head writer, including script and revisions, and US$5,000 for assistant writers and a script editor. The largest total cost is US$36,000 for actors; this involves six lead actors at US$500 a day for 12 days. Glazier adds US$6,000 for supporting/day players, bringing the on-screen talent costs to a total of US$42,000. The budget for a director is US$12,000 for 12 days, and the DoP is US$9,000. The post-production costs include two editors at US$9,000 each for three weeks’ work.
Glazier urges producers not to think of microdrama as a new genre. “Think of it as a new grammar” that matches “the rhythm of the scroll,” he says, adding that this is a “sector that is in need of disruption, and consumers need to be served and not exploited”.
“My opinion is simple,” Glazier says. “If the sector is to thrive it needs to step back from short-term profiteering. Viewers will eventually notice how much they are spending. If cancelling an account is difficult and they feel manipulated, trust will erode. Once trust is gone, the entire sector could take on the taint of mistrust. It is much harder to rebuild than to get it right the first time.”
In an adjacent Substack, Straight Up, where he reviews new titles and their platforms, Glazier points to The Diamond Rose as a series that “shows both the promise of microdrama and the risk: if platforms cling to gatekeeping, they’ll end up looking more like the broadcasters they were meant to replace”.
If producers continue to poke into every nook and cranny of the short-form vertical video environment to see if this is where they really truly want to be, boardrooms remain unequivocally dizzy over financial projections.
In its microdrama report released in September, Media Partners Asia (MPA) predicted China’s 2025 revenues to exceed US$9.4 billion, overtaking domestic box office. More than 830 million viewers across the mainland now consume microdramas, of which nearly 60% pay or transact, says “The Microdrama Economy” report.
China revenues climbed from US$0.5 billion in 2021 to US$7 billion in 2024 and are expected to exceed US$16.2 billion by 2030 (11.5% CAGR). By 2030, advertising will contribute 56% of revenues, with subscriptions at 39% and commerce at 5%, MPA says.
In Asia, Japan leads with revenues forecast to top US$1.2 billion by 2030. The rest of Asia remains cost-conscious; still operating at lower budgets, despite growing audience interest.
Outside of China, the global microdrama market is forecast to reach US$9.5 billion by 2030 (28.4% CAGR) from 2024’s US$1.4 billion. The revenue mix will remain subscription/IAP-led (74%), but advertising will rise to 25% and commerce to 1% by 2030.
Global markets are led by the U.S., where revenues reached US$819 million in 2024, and are projected to rise to US$3.8 billion by 2030, MPA says. Audience adoption is driven by affluent, urban women aged 30-60.
The fact that short drama apps are on track to hit US$3 billion (excl. China) this year is an important milestone, says Owl & Co founder and former Fox International Channels’ boss, Hernan Lopez.
In a LinkedIn post in September, Lopez said while short drama apps’ revenue was small right now compared to Netflix or YouTube, this year’s US$3 billion (excl. China) “marks something we’ve never had before: a functioning market for short-form scripted storytelling”.
“Now the glass is no longer empty,” Lopez continues. “If you’re quick to dismiss the short dramas of today as too soapy, too gamified, or not for you, you risk missing three larger forces at play: Time spent with mobile video, where vertical is the default, keeps rising. Production cutbacks mean more storytellers are embracing new formats. SVODs are fighting not just each other but YouTube, TikTok, Instagram for time spent and ad dollars. They’re not going to sit idle while a whole new way of storytelling takes off.”
FACED WITH CHANGE, RESILIENCE IS EVERYTHING.
No title, theme or storyline seems too salacious in the current microdrama boom. Growing alongside the slate of headline grabbers is a movement with more modest values and still consistent with mobile-first entertainment demands.
If they aren’t exactly enamoured by the recent surge in headlinehogging porn-adjacent vertical video blockbusters, programmers and platforms in countries and regions that prioritise modesty are as keen as anyone to embrace the microdrama boom.
How much less-extreme content is there amid the salacious themes and raunchy titles of mainstream vertical video catalogues? Quite a bit, it turns out. Plus, as the format takes hold, local producers are fasttracking series of their own with built-in resonance. And one more thing: either they haven’t got to it yet, or censors are turning the same blindish eye to microdrama apps as they did to streaming platforms.
In addition to testing original series, producers across Asia and the
Middle East are creating a lively market for scripts – with built-in hooks and cliffhangers – to adapt to their own market tastes, says AR Asia Productions’ co-founder and CEO, Anne Chan. Domestic demand for locally relevant vertical series has already soared, driving up expectations and forecasts for the first half of 2026, Chan says.
Along with topics such as “The Rise of Ramadan Content: Capturing Global Audiences Through Cultural Narratives” and a deep dive into Arabic cinema, microdrama is a focus at the upcoming Dubai International Content Market (DICM) from 4-5 November.
“There’s a misconception that microdramas are all raunchy – that’s not the case,” says COL Group’s Southeast Asia operations GM, Timothy Oh,
who will be speaking at DICM. “ evolving beyond romance and gaining traction across a diverse range of genres... We have a wide range of premium titles across many genres that are suitable for these markets,” he says.
A random trawl through five of the most-talkedabout microdrama platforms – FlareFlow, ReelShort, DramaBox, Sereal+ and Korean platform Vigloo – shows a wealth of storylines less likely to raise hackles.
There’s time-travel fantasy romance, Dracula’s Kiss: Spellbound by a Doppelganger (Sereal+), for instance. The series is about a heartbroken woman who, seeking revenge, marries a man who turns out to be a vampire –only to find an 80-year-old photograph in his study that looks exactly like her. The same show has been made as Let Me Go, Mr. Dracula, with different talent and an adjusted script, for FlareFlow, a newer app from the COL Group. Another
police
FlareFlow title is hidden-identity/revenge series Shoot At My Heart, about a wealthy man’s daughter who joins the police force after being saved by sniper Evan Wilson. When their paths cross again, Evan is down and out and homeless.
There’s also rags to riches culinary show Cooking My Way Back to (ReelShort) about a top chef who falls apart after his wife dies in a car accident, losing everything except his dog Dante, and the restaurant owner who gives him a job, not knowing
and a who he is.
The Invincible Bodyguard (DramaBox) is a hidden-identity tale (another favourite microdrama theme) about a security guard who unintentionally offends a billionaire heiress and risks exposing his own secret.
And then there’s period fantasy romance Fate, The Servant of the Night, an original from Korean platform Vigloo. The 48-episode series is about a popular heartthrob who only has space in his heart for a girl in his dreams. When thugs kidnap his sister, his attempts to save her leads him into a complicated family revenge plot. Like all Vigloo Original series, Fate, The Servant of the Night is subtitled in Bahasa for Indonesian audiences, who are well used to strict censorship, as well as in Thai, Japanese, Chinese and Arabic.
thugs strict censorship, as well as in Thai, Japanese, all
Across all the microdrama apps on our radar,
experimentation with different genres is clear.
“We are constantly testing and experimenting with content types, including series targeting male audiences, sci-fi and more, COL’s Oh says.
A priority market is Indonesia, with a population of about 286 million. The market already has telco-bundled third-party apps such as ShortMax and FlexTV, which are packaged with mobile data. The country’s leading streamer, Vidio, which has five million paying subscribers and 20% share of total premium VOD engagement, is also actively looking at adding vertical options to its entertainment platform.
Among the series at the forefront of the Indonesian surge is original show Pura Pura Nika (My Fake Wedding), by Sharad Sharan for Sinemart Indonesia. The show, for Indonesian streaming platform Vidio, won ContentAsia’s 2025 Award for Best Micro-drama made in Asia.
Pura Pura Nika is about two people – both engaged to be married to others – paired up against their will in a reality-style draw where the winners get married on the spot. Against their better judgement, they play along, only to discover that the marriage certificate is real, and they now have to find a way out.
In Malaysia, two Media Prima series that have planted a flag in the vertical space are Benci Jadi Cinta (Hate Turns to Love) set in a creative agency, and Keluarga Antara Insan (Together Like Family), about neighbours who consistently butt heads. Keluarga Antara Insan, created by Media Prima and Samsung Malaysia is part of the crucial conversation around brand integration in mobile-first vertical video. Across the causeway, where content codes are also on the stricter side, Singapore has found success with a lively vertical drama that is driving an uptick in interest among younger audiences in public service careers.
10-episode On
The Line hit 12 million views across platforms – including TikTok – in its first four weeks. “There’s a strong appetite for this kind of storytelling,” says Loh Woon Woon, Mediacorp’s VP of Chinese Drama Productions, who describes the micro environment as a new creative playground for fresh voices.
On The Line, released at the end of June, is about a team of young immigration officers from the Immigration and Checkpoints Authority (ICA) charged with protecting Singapore’s borders.
In the microdrama space, the impact of physical borders is not as clear. Many of the current series look American, but are created in China or Korea, driven by the willingness/ability of U.S. and Latin American users to pay something like US$40 a month per app.
Meanwhile, language customisation is booming, adding to series travelability. Vigloo’s Japanese series The Burden of Beauty, Revenge Runway, is for instance, available with subtitles in eight languages. Mystery drama/comedy, Wild Revenge: Lost Connection (a detective is able to solve cases with a special gift – his ability to talk to animals), is offered in English, Korean, Chinese (traditional and simplified), Spanish, Bahasa Indonesia, Thai and Arabic. FlareFlow offers about 10 languages, including Korean, Chinese, Bahasa Indonesia and Thai, and is the tip of the spear in the COL Group’s international expansion; including more than 30 production teams across the world’s major markets. Somewhere in there, there’s bound to be space for series that keep their clothes on.
Bamboo Network is a frontrunner in serialised micro-reality, with hits such as The Bedmate Game: Sharehouse and Eluvator. Dabin Chung, CEO of the Seoul-based production house, talks about trends, scale, IP and creating an ecosystem of co-growth.
A month ago, Korean micro video series, The Bedmate Game: Sharehouse (해야만 하는 쉐어하우스) hit 10 million cumulative views on Chinese-owned mobile platform DramaBox. The show, originally made for Korean platform Vigloo, is billed as “Korea’s first R-rated scripted reality microdrama”.
Five months earlier, Bamboo Network CEO, Dabin Chung, had celebrated the reality show’s record performance for Korean content in North America. “Yesterday was a very meaningful day for me,” Chung said in a social media post marking the milestone.
Along with titles such as unscripted dating show Eluvator for PickMore, the performance of The Bedmate Game: Sharehouse puts Chung on the royalty list of a whirlwind sector that shows no sign of abating.
Chung talks about reading market tides and riding waves. “In the content business, what matters most is not building something massive but creating fast connections; not just building powerful structures but designing structures where everyone can win”.
Among the very early adopters of serialised micro-episode video series, the 34-year-old Chung continues to believe short-form is “not just a passing fad but will become a true IP business format... a scalable, repeatable business”.
Today, his conviction in the format is as firm as it was then, with hopes growing that “the market evolves beyond simple production revenues into a recurring revenue share structure – like music, webtoons, and web novels... Not a market where big fish eat little fish, but one where the fastest swimmers win”.
As the seven-year-old Bamboo Network expands its Gen Z-focused entertainment strategy, Chung highlights how the studio is shaping the future of storytelling through both scripted and unscripted short-form formats.
“From 2023, we realised that short-form content – especially microdrama – was not just a passing trend but a completely new format. At that time, the traditional drama market had no real alternatives. Microdramas
Unlike the legacy broadcast industry – where platforms tend to take the majority of revenue –I believe it is essential to create a system where successful production companies can also secure revenue share... This way, both platforms and creators can achieve sustainable co-growth.”
Dabin Chung, CEO, Bamboo Network
suddenly appeared as a strong solution, with a business model that was structured, profitable and cost-efficient,” he said during the 2025 ContentAsia Summit in Taipei.
“Also, platform algorithms supported short and powerful stories, which clearly showed that this format would dominate. That is why we were the first in Korea to enter this market in a systematic way”.
Can Korea compete with China in the microdrama space? Chung believes it can. “It’s true that China has grown the market with speed and volume. But global audiences do not only want fast production. What they want is strong storytelling and emotions that everyone can relate to.”
“Korea has already shown through K-dramas that it can create stories, characters and direction that touch people around the world.
If this same K-content DNA is applied to microdramas, I believe Korean producers can also take a leading role globally,” he says.
“However, I also believe the real leadership in microdramas will belong to those who can consistently make influential content that wins over the U.S. market, because that is still the ultimate battleground for global entertainment.”
Romance is a genre bedrock. “The core structure of romance never changes. What changes with each generation are only the expressions – how people confess, how they date, and how they show relationships. That’s why romance could be reinterpreted in the short-form format, while still connecting across different generations,” Chung says.
The Bedmate Game: Sharehouse, for instance, became a global number one “not only because of its fun setting, but because it reflected real social issues – like young people’s openness to physical intimacy, the rise of co-living, and the instability of modern relationships”.
Talking about the current video production ecosystem, Chung says microdramas are way more than simple short videos with 12x accelerated production cycles. “They are creating a new production ecosystem. They serve as a test bed where new writers, actors and directors can debut quickly, and at the same time, they function as a laboratory for global distributors to observe rapid audience reactions. In other words, if traditional dramas are large-scale projects, microdramas can be defined as a startup-like market that grows quickly and learns through both successes and failures.”
Chung also believes a key point is not to make “cheap” series, “but to deliver the greatest immersion with limited budgets. In fact, the greater the constraints, the more creative solutions emerge – and that becomes the true competitive edge... That said, I don’t believe producing microdramas ‘as cheaply as possible’ is the right approach. I believe that even within the micro-drama scene, there should be a work with the global impact of something like Squid Game”.
The true power of microdrama IP goes way beyond the screen, he adds. “Microdramas may be short, but they can become the seed of IP. They can expand into OTT series, films, webtoons, novels, merchandise, and even advertising campaigns. I see microdramas as essentially the MVP (Minimum Viable Product) of IP. They may start as small experiments, but they hold limitless potential to grow into global mega IPs... microdramas serve as the starter of IP. While short-form dramas themselves can generate revenue, I believe their true power comes from the vast value chain that unfolds afterwards”.
The biggest concerns for IP holders are rights management and revenue-sharing structure. “I believe true explosive growth will come only when a unique distribution ecosystem is established that is designed specifically for microdramas, rather than simply mirroring traditional drama models,” Chung says.
“Unlike the legacy broadcast industry, where platforms tend to take the majority of revenue, I believe it is essential to create a system where successful production companies can also secure R/S (Revenue Share) or GR (Gross Revenue Share). This way, both platforms and creators can achieve sustainable co-growth.”
Maggie Kang, the creator and director of Netflix’s most popular movie ever, talks about Korean culture, mythology, demons, music and the opportunity to create a new kind of female superhero.
By our count (based on Netflix’s weekly rankings), K-pop Demon Hunters was watched for more than half a billion hours around the world in its first 14 weeks on the global English-language film top 10. The animated feature toggled between #1 and #2, averaging just under 40 million hours a week from its premiere on 20 June and beating blockbuster titles and A-listers like Liam Neeson, Fan Bingbing, Charlie Sheen, sonic hedgehogs and Shrek. By 27 August, the original animated feature had become Netflix’s most popular movie ever, beating its previous record as the streaming platform’s most popular animated film.
Speaking at Netflix’s Creative Asia event during the Busan International Film Festival (BIFF) in September, K-pop Demon Hunters’ creator and co-director, Maggie Kang, said her proudest moments – and the culmination of a long-held career wish – were the film’s all-Korean cast, its deep immersion in Korean culture, and the opportunity to create a different kind of female superhero.
“I really wanted to work on a Korean project, but I really never came across one,” she said of her dozen or so years in Hollywood’s animation industry. “So when it came time for me to direct a movie and pitch one, I started to think about what I wanted to see in animation, which was Korean culture, and so I looked at our mythology. I was doing a lot of
research, and for some reason, I landed on demonology”.
Picking through the creatures and images that she grew up with, Kang said the idea of demons “naturally led to demon hunters, a group of really incredible women who find demons”.
The decision to have them do something in addition to fighting led her to K-pop. “And it really changed everything,” she says. “The movie instantly became larger in scale. It became a musical, and there was just more spectacle.”
“Something that’s really wonderful about K-pop in the world today... it’s the way that it just brings people together, even though people don’t understand the lyrics to a song. You go to a K-pop concert and everybody’s singing along, and there’s just this really great energy... it’s able to cross cultural barriers.”
A “huge” K-pop fan, Kang says she “wanted to create that feeling in the film... and K-pop became this huge selling point for the movie”. What she didn’t necessarily publicise at the time was her goal to “take this concept and make the movie as Korean as possible, to inject as many Korean elements into it as possible”. Ultimately, these included Korea’s national animal – the tiger, which became Derpy – to taekwondo, locations, landmarks and food.
The idea that your secrets and shame can hold you back from people that you love is such a universal theme. ”
Maggie Kang
Music used to ward off demons is already a part of Korean lore, and Kang explains that Shamanic rituals were in a way “the first concerts of Korea”. These rituals used sound as a barrier “to fight back demon hordes constantly trying to come and seek us out and eat our human souls”.
“It felt like kind of a no-brainer to link our fantasy concept to something that actually exists in our culture,” Kang says. As she dug deeper into the story, she was “really inspired by the folk dancers who perform these rituals... to protect communities from demons and ward off bad spirits”. And so K-pop Demon Hunters’ Rumi, Mira and Zoey became “superheroes with a power to connect people and to create this shield around the world.”
Kang says the tradition passed down through the generations may
be “a really small part of our movie... but for me, being someone who’s Korean, and I’ve heard this from many Korean audiences, it’s very meaningful because we haven’t really seen that representation of our culture from the olden days to modern times. This part of the movie is probably one of the proudest moments for me as a creator,” she says.
Kang says her lead trio are both pop stars and “badass” demon hunters. “We really wanted to represent all sides of our characters... to really explore the personalities and individuality when they are not on stage, and show a more personal and relatable side”.
“They’re modern, they work in their own style, with confidence and flair, eating ramyeon and putting on makeup as they fight demons... [another] of my proudest things is that we created Korean women, Korean female lead characters, and we worked really, really hard to make them both appealing and aspirational and unique, but most importantly, Korean. And for the very first time in feature animation, we see a movie with all Korean characters. For me and our industry, this was a really, really, really big deal.”
Kang also saw an opportunity to create a new type of female superhero. “I really wanted to see ones who were messy and silly and funny, who eat a lot and who are just really real and hate mornings, like all of us, and who also have struggles and flaws, even ones with really, really dark pasts and roots, but through friendship and understanding and defeating their inner demons and actual demons... and inspiring others in the process.”
“The idea that your secrets and shame can hold you back from people that you love is such a universal theme. And there are many, many other themes in our film that are very universal.”
One of my proudest things is that we created Korean women, Korean female lead characters and we worked really hard to make them both appealing and aspirational and unique, but most importantly, Korean. And for the very fi rst time in feature animation, we see a movie with all Korean characters. And you know, for me and our industry, this was a really, really, really big deal .”
Maggie Kang
Dear Stranger adds film festival acclaim to Taiwanese telco Far EasTone Telecom’s content investment portfolio. Gary Tsai, COO – Digital Entertainment, friDay Video/Far EasTone Telecom, spoke to Janine Stein about what drives content investment decisions; Susan Hornik talked to the film’s writer/director
Tetsuya Mariko’s suspense drama, Dear Stranger, is a poster project for Taiwan’s latest era of international outreach. Part of Taipei-based telco giant Far EasTone’s content investment portfolio, the English-language film opened in Japan in mid-September and premiered internationally at the Busan International Film Festival (BIFF) a few weeks later.
Produced by Roji Films, Dear Stranger follows Far EasTone’s backing for Michihito Fujii’s 18x2 Beyond Youthful Days (2024), which was distributed in more than 10 countries as well globally on Netflix.
Gary Tsai, COO – Digital Entertainment, friDay Video/Far EasTone Telecom, says the main reason behind the decision about two years ago to invest in Dear Stranger was similar to 18x2 – a solid story backed by a strong team.
“We started with a very good story and with a very driven and persistent director and writer,” Tsai told delegates at the ContentAsia
Tetsuya Mariko.
I try to keep my feet firmly on the ground, continue making films, and keep challenging myself .”
Tetsuya Mariko
Summit in Taiwan in early September ahead of the film’s release.
Tsai calls Dear Stranger a true co-production, with skills, financial backing and filming spread between three countries/partners. The film was shot in New York and post-production was done in Taiwan.
Dear Stranger follows a mixed Japanese/Chinese couple – an assistant professor of architecture played by Hidetoshi Nishijima (Drive My Car) and puppeteer Gwei Lun-Mei (Black Coal, Thin Ice). When their young son goes missing, they are forced to confront unspoken truths and the fragile bonds of family.
Notes issued before the film’s release quote Mariko as saying violence often appeared in physical and graphic forms in his earlier works.
“With Dear Stranger, I wanted to explore a different kind of violence –the silence, distance and unspoken cruelty that emerge inside intimate relationships. This ‘cold violence’ may not draw blood, but it leaves deep scars and erodes the foundations of marriage and trust, like ruins quietly collapsing from within,” he says.
If the investment decision for Far EasTone appears to have been relatively straightforward, Mariko describes Dear Stranger as an “immense challenge for me”, including language and cultural barriers.
In addition, this was his first time shooting abroad after making several films in Japan, he tells ContentAsia. “The use of multiple languages and the filmmaking process itself are very different in Japan and America, so I had to return to the basics, working through trial and error to complete the film,” he says.
Mariko says he “wrote down as many visual ideas as possible and prepared shot lists to aid communication. Building in time for this preparation was essential.” He believes the team approached the filmmaking
with even more care than in Japan.
“Most importantly, the staff who gathered for the project worked hard to understand one another, and thanks to that, we were able to make the film without major obstacles,” he says.
The veteran writer/director drew from his own life when writing the script. “From 2019 to 2020, I lived in the U.S. with my family. The many experiences I had there had a huge impact on me as a writer. On the flight back to Japan, I was thinking of setting my next film in America –when suddenly, a national emergency was declared in the U.S. and the world completely changed.”
He kept in touch with friends living in America and asked them to send him video footage of family dinners from around the world. “Out of that process, I began focusing on family relationships – the smallest unit of society – and started writing the script,” he says.
Mariko describes his latest project as a “step forward” from his past works – the violent Destruction Babies (2016) and romance From Miyamoto to You (2019).
“In my work so far, I have often confronted violence,” he says. “Destruction Babies depicted the almost catastrophic absurdity of young men fighting each other with an animalistic drive, and the society around them. Miyamoto portrayed the disasters that befall a young couple and how they struggle to live on.”
For Dear Stranger, Mariko turned his focus to an Asian family, examining how they “face and survive” the hardships that strike them.
“This film has become very important for me in thinking about what I will make in the future… I’ve been influenced by the many films I’ve seen, the ideas I’ve encountered, and the books I’ve read, I feel my
“Love Never Dies” Best Original Song Created in Asia for an Asian TV Series/Programme or Movie
“Good Heavens!
I’m a Goose Not a Swan” Best Book-to-TV Adaptation
“Bow Maylada Susri” Best Female Lead in a TV Programme/Series
“The Secret of Us” Best LGBTQ+ Programme/Series
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cinematic world is gradually expanding. Above all, the question is: how do we face this complicated society? I try to keep my feet firmly on the ground, continue making films, and keep challenging myself.”
Mariko was able to navi gate identity and belonging/con necting across borders and languages without falling into stereotypical tropes.
“In America, I myself was the ‘stranger’,” he says. “That is precisely why I tried to talk with local people and understand them. I could never do the same things they do, but I believed there was something that only I could do. With that in mind, I kept experimenting as I wrote the script.”
During his time in the U.S., Mariko became more aware of the ambiguity of identity and the difficulty of integrating into new communities.
“The film also reflects this condition: how words fail, how communication across languages falters, and how silence takes on its own meaning in intercultural encounters,” he says.
Dear Stranger was shot entirely on location in New York City, which Mariko calls a “stimulating city where many cultures mix”.
“Simply living there is economically demanding, and the fact that Kenji and Jane are raising their family amid that whirlwind is directly connected to the stresses they face... Just balancing that is already a tremendous challenge. The fact that they live in New York is deeply tied to who they are as characters – it plays an essential role in the story.”
Dear Stranger reflects the ambiguity of identity and the difficulty of integrating into new communities... “how words fail, how communication across languages falters and how silence takes on its own meaning in intercultural encounters.”
Tetsuya Mariko
Mariko hopes audiences will “watch this story as if it were their own”.
“Even while I was writing the script, there were many different opinions, and I found that very interesting – within the same family, each person has their own way of thinking, and they must respect one another… I believe everyone who sees the film will have something to think about from their own perspective. If people continue conversations after watching, the film will gain even more depth.”
From record-breaking dramas to award-winning documentaries, Media Prima showcases Malaysian stories that resonate at home and shine abroad.
Malaysia’s trusted content powerhouse, Media Prima, delivers stories that audiences tune in to, believe in, and talk about. From record breaking dramas to award-winning documentaries, the company’s titles lead the Malaysian market and make waves on the international arena.
This year, Hening Rindu, the original soundtrack for TV3’s hit drama Aku Bukan Ustazah, struck gold at the 2025 ContentAsia Awards, held in September in Taipei, winning Best Sound Design Created in Asia for an Asian TV Programme/Series The win honoured the excellence of the singer, composer, lyricist and production crew whose work lifted it to international success.
Airing in early 2024 on TV3, Aku Bukan Ustazah follows the story of Nurul Huda, a young teacher who struggles to balance her faith, personal dreams, and the expectations of her conservative community. The drama explores themes of love, resilience, and identity, resonating deeply with viewers across Malaysia. Its strong female lead, layered storytelling, and cultural authenticity helped it stand out in a highly competitive drama landscape.
The drama averaged an impressive 2.7 million viewers per episode on TV3 and has since expanded its reach on Netflix.
cultural
Performed by Marsha Milan, Hening Rindu became a cultural touchstone when her live rendition won the top honour at Anugerah Juara Lagu 39, Malaysia’s most prestigious music award often compared to the Grammys, in February this year. Together, the series and its soundtrack stand as a powerful showcase of how Media Prima delivers content that leads locally and shines globally.
Meanwhile, Fail Mahkamah, the award-winning documentary series, once again proved its strength at this year’s ContentAsia Awards, securing Silver for Best Current Affairs Programme Made in Asia for a Single Market in Asia
This marks consecutive recognition after its win last year for the episode Didera Kekasih Ibu, reinforcing its role as one of Malaysia’s most respected current affairs programmes. The programme revisits the nation’s headlinemaking court cases, combining sharp investigative reporting with powerful human storytelling.
From hit dramas and documentaries to films, telemovies and animation, Media Prima offers a diverse range of stories that audiences embrace and international platforms recognise.
For buyers and partners seeking proven titles or opportunities in co production, format licensing, distribution or marketing collaborations, Media Prima is ready.
Connect with us at contentdistribution@mediaprima.com.my
Winners of the 6th annual ContentAsia Awards – the second to be held in Taiwan – were announced along with the winners of the first ContentAsia Viewers’ Choice Awards at a live+live-streamed ceremony in Taipei on 4 September. The full list of winners is at www.contentasia.tv.
Winners came from 12 countries/regions – China, Hong Kong, India, Indonesia, Japan, Korea, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore, Taiwan and Thailand, as well as regional Asia services – representing TV broadcast
and production leaders, streamers and online platforms.
For the first time, microdrama creators were recognised, bringing this fast-rising vertical format into the mainstream fold. Hosted by Taiwan’s Sharon Huang with KC Global Media’s AXN as Red Carpet Host, the 2025 Awards Ceremony & Party was attended by guests from the entertainment industry across Asia, and streamed live on Facebook. AXN is the ContentAsia Awards’ official broadcast partner.
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Taiwanese director Leste Chen trades in big ideas for new Netflix series, The Resurrected, about two mothers who bond over shared determination for revenge. But he avoids political fingerpointing, says Patrick Frater
Leste Chen and Hsu Chao-jen, two of Taiwan’s leading directors and frequent collaborators, reunite to deliver a glossy, dark and contemporary take on revenge, romance and superstition in new Netflix seThe Resurrected. In an understated way, the show also critiques contemporary politics in Southeast Asia. Two of the series’ nine episodes debuted in September in the On Screen section of the Busan International Film Festival (BIFF). Netflix debuts the remaining episodes globally on 9 October. involves two mothers who bond over a shared hatred. Their daughters have both been victims of a notorious online scammer and, when the man is executed, the women seek revenge by employing a voodoo master to bring him back to life for a week. Their plan is to make the man’s little remaining ‘life’ hell.
ries, politics
The Resurrected and, rected other
“In my twenties, I was a very angry young man. For some reason, I wanted unspecific revenge,” Chen says. He has subsequently gone on to have a successful career in both film and TV and on both sides of the Taiwan Strait. He came up with the concept for The Resursome 20 years ago. “I needed to use this powerful emotion as a starting point for something,” he says.
The scenario creates meaty roles for two of the most established Chinese-speaking actresses – Taiwan’s Shu Qi and Malaysia’s Lee Sinje. “We only had three episodes written at the time Shu Qi joined. One personality is stronger than the other and initially
In my twenties, I was a very angry young man. For some reason, I wanted unspecific revenge.”
Leste Chen, co-director, The Resurrected
we thought Shu Qi should be the more aggressive, dynamic character who is obsessed with revenge. But after reading those early episodes Shu Qi said she had never portrayed a housewife and would prefer to try the more timid role,” Chen says.
“As we completed writing the following episodes, we considered other actresses and approached Lee Sinje, who brings a careful and precise approach to the role. Hsu and I were very happy with their chemistry.”
Having worked together previously, the co-directors made a welloiled team with heavily overlapping roles. Rather than alternating, they shared directing duties on each episode and were both always on set. Before going into production, Chen would take the lead on script development (in association with other credited writers Shen Yang, Yi Shuai-jie and Luo Hsiao-rui) and focus on elements involving confrontation, while Hsu focused on the emotional aspects.
The directing pair say that their multi-person screenwriting effort did not amount to a U.S.-style writers’ room and that the role of ‘showrunner’ does not formally exist in Taiwan’s production industry. But they told ContentAsia that they expect it to do so as the island’s industry emerges as a regional hub for long-form entertainment.
As international streamers become dominant players in Asia, they bring other changes to the working environment.
Chen and Hsu appear to enjoy the creative freedom streaming affords. “Typically, with filmmaking, you focus on a single genre at a time, but a TV series can accommodate several different genres and characters. There are some big plot twists coming from episode three onwards,” Chen says.
“In the past, we’d have to prepare the whole script before we pitched to other broadcasters or platforms. But when we pitched to Netflix, we focused on the story, what kind of investment we might need
and our production plan. We’d start with creating the show’s bible. Only once we had that and Netflix had embraced it did we start scripting episode by episode.”
The series trades in several big ideas, including revenge, the death penalty, motherhood and prevailing East Asian superstitions such as resurrection, karmic justice and the existence of an afterlife. But it is also resolutely contemporary in describing online scams and casual, corrosive corruption.
In order to blend these elements, much of The Resurrected is set in the bustling fictional metropolis of Benkha, though little effort has been made to disguise the Thai capital Bangkok or real locations within it.
“Bangkok is very lively with a mixture of locals and expats. And it is a great environment for production. This was my third time shooting there. But more than those practical aspects, this series covers many different topics and creates many dramatic confrontations and tensions that don’t only belong to Bangkok... [so] we chose to set it in a fictional city,” Chen explains.
Thai authorities have little tolerance for overseas film and TV productions that could tarnish the image they like to project in service of the country’s tourism industry. In recent months they have been embarrassed by organised crimes involving online fraud and human trafficking that were allegedly facilitated in or through Thailand.
Chen sidesteps discussion of those incidents and reframes the choice of the Benkha setting as part of Netflix’s effort to make content that is both local and has international appeal.
“Streaming platforms carry stories from around the world, with local contexts and local stories. But setting The Resurrected in a fictional city meant we could avoid restrictions and avoid projecting our imaginations about Bangkok onto Bangkok itself. We were able to talk about these [difficult] subjects without having to deal in the real world.”
The serialised vertical drama boom has set off a race for facilities that can accommodate compact sets, lean budgets and accelerated schedules.
A space race has begun for vertical drama production facilities. As projections for the global serialised vertical video industry balloon to US$26 billion by 2030, the race to raise quality, offer the most variety with the least effort, squeeze time to screen, and keep costs at a fraction of traditional TV production is escalating.
The top two contenders are Hengdian World Studios – sometimes called ‘China’s Hollywood’ – and a newcomer backed by China-listed vertical video powerhouse, the COL Group. Elsewhere across Asia, studios are adding features and functions, but nothing so far compares to the muscle behind China set-ups.
Last month, COL announced plans for Hengqin in China’s Greater Bay Area (Hong Kong, Macao and Guangdong). The 10,000-squaremetre studio is billed as a one-of-a-kind facility designed for international productions. Hengqin, which plans to be operational by end-2025, will have 30 specialised sets and sound stages, with a focus on locations such as New York, L.A. and other cities. The studio will be used for microdrama app FlareFlow’s pipeline.
Meanwhile, a little over four hours’ drive from Shanghai, in China’s Zhejiang Province, Hengdian World Studios remains way ahead after spending the past two years advancing its vertical drama strategy.
As of August 2024, Hengdian World Studios had hosted approx 2,500 vertical drama crews, more than double the total for the previous year. “This rapid growth reflects not only strong domestic demand but also a rising level of international interest,” studio execs told ContentAsia Initiatives to service the sector include the Hengdian International Short Drama Alliance, which the studio says addresses industry-wide coordina-
tion challenges and involves a shared data-driven planning system to align scenes, talent and logistics in advance. The idea “is to improve the overall efficiency of production and reduce mismatches in scheduling or resource allocation”.
In 2024, Hengdian established a dedicated Vertical Drama Production Service Center, offering one-stop support for short-form crews – including scene configuration, production process optimisation, talent services and policy incentives.
The sprawling 33-million-square-metre complex takes a broad view on supporting low cost/agile production; for example, partnering with 53 hotels to offer 2,500 rooms at preferential rates.
Hengdian World Studios has also signed cooperation agreements with 30 local short drama bases (facilities owned/operated by private companies). These bases are relatively small, each able to accommodate up to 10 short drama crews at the same time, the studio says.
In addition, Hengdian is upgrading existing districts to meet the needs of vertical dramas targeting overseas audiences as well as integrating AI and virtual production into its microdrama solutions.
The Actor Village opens this month, with accommodation and modular sets for modern and international interior shoots. By the end of the year, the new German Town and a modern indoor project will be up and running. Additional American and Western small-town sets are being planned.
Efforts don’t stop there. Next up is a Global Vertical Drama Co-Production Hub. The hub, Hengdian execs says, will be “a space where creators, studios and platforms from around the world can co-develop and coproduce short-form vertical content for global audiences”.
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Microdrama studio facilities scale up Dedicated vertical production sets follow Studio facilities across Asia have started allocating dedicated space for vertical video production and new sets are going up as the microdrama race intensifies. Encouraged by outsize growth and soaring financial projections, production facilities are clearly eager to accommodate tight budgets and tighter schedules with custom-created sets that bump right up to each other. In this every-minute-counts environment, insiders talk about one-stop shops that allow them to film, for example, scenes in a hospital, a supermarket and a baseball management office located mere steps away from each other. The full story is on page 5 Countdown to TIFFCOM Tokyo show highlights global collaboration, animation, IP growth
