‘All of Us Are Dead’ blends zombie horror with social commentary, and finds a haunting harmony with BTS’s ‘Spring Day’

A still from 'All of Us Are Dead.' Photo: Netflix, courtesy of Han Cinema.
With Netflix confirming the return of All of Us Are Dead Season 2, the zombies are back, and so are the questions: What happened to Lee Cheong-san (Yoon Chan-young) and Yoon Gwi-nam (Yoo In-soo)? Are they both dead? What’s really behind the zombie virus? Could there be an antidote? What becomes of Choi Nam-ra (Cho Yi-hyun) and the other hybrids, caught in a limbo between human and zombie? — Several cliffhangers that closed the first season on a high note. But before they unravel, consider what makes All of Us Are Dead more than a thrilling zombie apocalypse. Beneath its maddening horror and bloodbath, the show is a complex narrative of social issues that also eerily connects with one of South Korea’s darkest moments—the Sewol Ferry tragedy. And in a striking coincidence, BTS’s song, “Spring Day,” captures the emotions of that tragedy in a way that also resonates deeply with the drama.
All of Us Are Dead’s Hyosan High School serves as a microcosm of South Korean society’s darker side, and if anything, many others worldwide, opening the festering wounds of bullying, social inequality, and institutional failure. The zombies are only the monsters on the surface when you realize along the way that the true monstrosity lies in the harsh societal pressures influencing the characters’ lives in the story. Gwi-nam, for example, is the ruthless face of bullying who’s incorrigible and merciless; Lee Na-yeon (Lee Yoo-mi), the rich, spoiled brat, personifies class disparities with her entitled attitude; Jang Ha-ri (Ha Seung-ri), struggling as a female athlete, points out sexist attitudes; and Yang Dae-su (Im Jae-hyuk), often shamed for being fat, reminds us of the suffocating, one-dimensional beauty standards.
In the end, All of Us Are Dead is less about its zombies and more about its people, who are struggling so hard to live—to be seen, heard, and valued—in a world that seems almost determined to erase them. It questions the society, reveals the monsters it has created, and leaves us thinking about what it truly means to survive.
The show has often been said to be reminiscent of the horrors of the M.V. Sewol ferry tragedy, which claimed 304 lives on April 16, 2014. The overloaded ferry, carrying 476 people, including 325 students from Danwon High School, became a recipe for disaster, capsized and sank on its way to Jeju Island, leaving behind a trail of grief and severe outrage with South Korea’s safety protocols and emergency response systems, with many criticizing the authorities’ slow response and lack of preparedness. As the disaster struck, the students on board were simply left to their fate. According to The Korea Herald, the lack of rescue efforts on the part of the crew was a major contributing factor to the massive number of casualties, with Captain Lee Joon-seok’s decision to abandon ship without ensuring passenger safety being shocking on his part. His instruction to the crew to tell passengers to “stay in their spots” resulted in a deadly delay for those trying to escape.
In All of Us Are Dead, a similar sense of desperation and mayhem is brought on by the zombie outbreak ravaging Hyosan High School—drawing parallels with the Sewol incident—and highlighting the failures of people and authorities concerned to protect the vulnerable. Just as the ferry’s passengers were let down by the system, the students in the series are failed by their school’s administration, which was only bent on prioritizing reputation over safety. Both the reel and real situations shine a light on the human cost of such failures and the need for accountability, preparedness, and change. The video clip, with hundreds of raging zombies, is a haunting allegory for the desperate struggle of the students and other passengers while the ferry kept sinking.
Three years down the line, after the disaster, BTS released their song “Spring Day,” which was universally praised by critics for its production, lyrics, and vocal performance. According to band member RM, the song’s lyrics were inspired by his longing for his school friends as he reflected during a V Live broadcast, also elaborating that the song’s about holding onto memories and healing with time. The lyrics “I hate you, you left me/But I never stopped thinking about you, not even for a day/I miss you, honestly” capture the pain of separation and the yearning that lingers long after. And though “Spring Day” doesn’t explicitly tell the story of Sewol, its emotional resonance with the tragedy is obvious, resonating with the same ache of loss and longing that remains and is often considered to evoke the wistful memories of the event.
The connection is also meaningful when considered alongside the themes of All of Us Are Dead. BTS member Suga’s definition of “Spring Day” as “a zombie, she never dies,” I think, takes on a profound meaning in this context—the pain and trauma of loss can persist, refusing to be erased. And yet, like the zombies who haunt the show, the memories of what was lost continue to live with us. Eventually, “Spring Day” becomes an ode to what could have been, an expression of the enduring power of human connection and resilience, and definitely a reminder that even in the darkest moments, the promise of spring—of renewal, rebirth, and healing—remains like hope guiding us through darkness.
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