Twenty years. It’s been roughly two decades since Lee Eun-ju walked into her apartment in Bundang and decided she couldn’t do it anymore. If you were following Korean entertainment back in 2005, you remember where you were when the news broke. It wasn't just another celebrity tragedy; it felt like the industry itself had fractured.
Lee wasn't just a star. She was the star. She had this ethereal, almost ghostly presence on screen that made you feel like she was keeping a secret from the camera. Then came The Scarlet Letter.
People still talk about that movie in hushed tones. Not because it’s a masterpiece—though some critics would argue it is—but because of the weight it carried. The film is often blamed, perhaps too simply, for what happened to her. But the reality of Lee Eun-ju and The Scarlet Letter is a lot messier than a single movie causing a breakdown.
The Role That Changed Everything
In the 2004 erotic thriller, Lee played Choi Ga-hee. She was the mistress of a detective, played by the legendary Han Suk-kyu. On paper, it’s a noir mystery. In reality? It’s a grueling descent into psychological hell.
Most people point to the "trunk scene."
I won't get too graphic, but if you've seen it, you can't un-see it. Lee and Han were trapped in the trunk of a car for hours during filming. It was bloody, claustrophobic, and emotionally violent. Reports from the set suggest it took a massive toll on her. She reportedly filmed that specific sequence for over 30 hours. Imagine being in that headspace for that long.
📖 Related: Colin Macrae Below Deck: Why the Fan-Favorite Engineer Finally Walked Away
Her family later said she suffered from chronic insomnia and deep depression after the film wrapped. She was hounded by the press about the nude scenes. In 2004, the Korean media was brutal. They didn't see an artist pushing boundaries; they saw a "good girl" who had "gone too far."
A Career Cut Short at Its Zenith
Honestly, Lee Eun-ju was untouchable before that film.
Look at her run:
- Virgin Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors (2000): She worked with Hong Sang-soo, the king of awkward, realistic Korean cinema.
- Bungee Jumping of Their Own (2001): A queer-coded (for its time) romance that broke hearts across Asia.
- Taegukgi: The Brotherhood of War (2004): She was the female lead in what was then the biggest movie in Korean history.
She had just finished the massive TV hit Phoenix (Bulsae). She was 24 years old. She had the kind of "10-million-viewer" career that most actors spend 40 years chasing.
Then came the notes. When the police found her on February 22, 2005, she had left letters scrawled in blood and ink. One said, "Mom, I am sorry and I love you." Another was more cryptic: "I wanted to do too much. Even though I live, I’m not really alive."
👉 See also: Cómo salvar a tu favorito: La verdad sobre la votación de La Casa de los Famosos Colombia
The Misconception About The Scarlet Letter
It’s easy to blame the director, Daniel H. Byun, or the "scandalous" nature of the film.
But depression is a liar. It doesn't need a movie to exist.
While her family attributed her state to the film's "racy" content and the grueling production, Lee had been struggling for a long time. The film might have been the catalyst, but the fire was already there. She was a perfectionist. She felt the pressure of being the "breadwinner" and the face of an entire generation of actors.
The industry changed after her death. Or at least, it said it did. We started talking about the "Werther Effect"—the fear that celebrity suicides would lead to more. Tragically, in the years following, we saw similar patterns with stars like Choi Jin-sil and, much later, Goo Hara.
Why We Are Still Talking About Her in 2026
You might wonder why a 20-year-old story still pops up in your feed.
✨ Don't miss: Cliff Richard and The Young Ones: The Weirdest Bromance in TV History Explained
It’s because Lee Eun-ju represented a specific kind of soulfulness that hasn't really been replaced. When you watch her in The Scarlet Letter, you aren't watching a performance; you’re watching someone bleed for their craft.
The movie itself is based on two short stories by Kim Young-ha: Photo Shop Murder and A Meditation on Mirror. It’s a dark, cynical look at desire. If you watch it today, it feels like a time capsule of a time when Korean cinema was trying to find its voice by being as bold and transgressive as possible.
Real Takeaways from Lee Eun-ju’s Legacy
If you're a fan of K-dramas or Korean cinema, there’s a lot to learn from her story beyond the tragedy.
- Artistic Vulnerability has a Price: Actors aren't just reading lines. For someone like Lee, who was "too invested" in her roles (as her family put it), the line between self and character thins out.
- The Media's Role: The way the press treated her "nude scenes" was a landmark case in how slut-shaming can destroy a person's mental health. We see echoes of this today in how idols are treated.
- The "Trunk Scene" as Cinema History: Regardless of the tragedy, that sequence remains one of the most technically and emotionally intense moments in film history. It’s a masterclass in tension, even if the cost was too high.
What to Do Next
If you want to truly appreciate her work without the lens of the tragedy, I highly recommend watching Bungee Jumping of Their Own first. It shows her light. It shows why Korea fell in love with her.
Then, if you have the stomach for it, watch The Scarlet Letter. But do it with the understanding that you’re seeing an artist at their absolute limit.
Support modern initiatives that protect the mental health of performers. Many agencies now have mandatory counseling, a direct result of the "Lee Eun-ju Law" discussions that happened years ago.
She wanted to be a "new generation star" who wasn't forgotten. Twenty years later, she’s still here.