Choi Jae-rim's formula for real self-esteem
Choi Jae-rim has spent years inside the machinery of licensed musicals, playing iconic roles from Judas to the Phantom. But in his latest project, the new Korean musical Yumi's Cells, he was handed a character with no blueprint: 109, the self-esteem cell. For the first time, the well-known actor had to build a role entirely from scratch, and the process forced him to examine what self-esteem actually means — onstage and off.
During a group interview in Seoul, Choi drew a sharp line between self-esteem and self-delusion. "Believe in yourself without looking at reality, and that's delusion, not self-esteem," he said. In his view, genuine self-worth requires an honest audit of where you stand and the work to close the gap. That philosophy guided him through a string of past casting controversies as well. Rather than deflect criticism, he dissected what went wrong — whether it was a failure of judgment or simple bad luck — and even resumed vocal lessons when he noticed his singing had lost its edge.
Such self-scrutiny mirrors the arc of 109 on stage. For most of Act One, the cell operates on pure impulse — loud, sprinting, unfiltered. Only near the act's end does he begin to think before acting. By Act Two, he learns to persuade rather than charge, to listen rather than insist. Choi sees the transformation as a natural progression of self-esteem: first it asserts itself without evidence, then it submits to reality and grows stronger.
Why an original Korean musical — and why now
Why Choi Jae-rim chose an original over another licensed blockbuster
Choi's résumé is stacked with lead roles in major international tours and Korean productions of global hits. Yet when the offer came for Yumi's Cells, he hesitated — then jumped at the chance to test whether two decades of experience could feed into a piece built from the ground up. "Between something positive I saw in the script and my own itch to bring years of licensed-production experience into something original," he said, the decision was clear. For an industry dominated by restagings of Broadway and West End hits, his move represents a quiet bet on the creative and commercial value of locally developed material.
The making of 109: when there's no source to reference
In the original webtoon, the self-esteem cell doesn't exist. Choi had no character panel to study, no inherited personality — just the idea of what self-esteem might look like in human form. He built the role by projecting his own traits onto the stage: near-constant motion in Act One, then a gradual shift toward reflection and persuasion. By the dress rehearsal, the arc was locked, he said. From there, only precision deepened. The result is a character that feels emotionally honest, largely because it's drawn from the actor's own ethos.
Can 'Yumi's Cells' break out of Korea?
Choi is confident that the show's central message — that you carry an entire inner world rooting for you — will resonate anywhere. Yet he acknowledges hurdles. The score leans closer to K-pop than to traditional musical-theater conventions, which may puzzle audiences used to Western structures. The staging, crowded with dozens of cells tracking two parallel storylines, risks overwhelming newcomers. Before taking it to Japan, other parts of Asia, or eventually Europe and the US, Choi envisions a sharper narrative throughline and recalibrated staging. The unspoken challenge: whether a musical built on the specificity of a Korean webtoon can hold its heart when translated into new markets.
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