[인터뷰] ‘와일드 씽’ 엄태구 “대문자 I의 코미디 도전, 처음엔 공포스러웠죠”





Actor Uhm Tae-goo (42), who describes himself as “capital-I introverted,” has decided to pursue comedy wholeheartedly. Known for his deep voice, stoic expressions, and commanding presence in noir films, he’s now sharpened his skills to deliver laughter. Imagine him sporting wild hair, sporting long locks, displaying playful facial expressions, delivering rapid-fire rap, and throwing winks while channeling his inner idol on stage—it’s an unfamiliar version of Uhm Tae-goo that even longtime fans might question, all showcased in the movie Wild Thing.

“I kept asking Director Son Jae-gon endlessly,” Uhm recalls. “Is this funny? Would it be funnier this way? Do you find this amusing?” He explains that what he personally finds humorous might not land, so the director’s judgment was essential. Though he hesitated greatly before accepting the role, once he committed, he found endless topics to discuss and felt compelled to explore them all.

Wild Thing follows the chaotic reunion of Triangle, a once-popular three-member co-ed dance group that disbanded overnight due to an unexpected scandal. Twenty years later, they seize a comeback opportunity. Uhm plays Sang-gu, the youngest member and self-proclaimed “storm rapper.” Alongside leader Hyun-woo (played by Kang Dong-won) and the sole female vocalist Do-mi (Park Ji-hyun), Sang-gu dreams of reclaiming past glory while harboring a small yet desperate ambition: increasing his rap lines, which had always been overshadowed by the other two members.

Despite lacking talent, Sang-gu chants “rap is my life” like a mantra, his passion unmatched. To embody this character, Uhm spent approximately five months training in rap and choreography. More crucial than perfecting rapper skills was conveying how earnestly Sang-gu believes in his own abilities.

“I relied completely on my instructors for rap and dance,” he shares. Since Sang-gu isn’t meant to be skilled, showing imperfection actually suited the character. He co-wrote Sang-gu’s lyrics with his coaches—Uhm drafted Sang-gu’s story, the instructors handled rhyme schemes, and the director helped refine everything. Rather than forcing humor, they focused on honesty, wit, and “Sang-gu-ness.” The lyrics might seem childish on the surface, but they carry genuine sincerity. Uhm found Sang-gu’s pure, passionate nature quite endearing.

Playing an idol group’s youngest member required Uhm to shower fans with service on stage. He approached every scene thinking, “If I’m not cute, I’m done for.”

Between charismatic rap verses, he had to switch to the adorable youngest member persona—a more unfamiliar challenge than rapping itself. How did someone known for a deep voice, slow speech, and intense gaze prepare to wink profusely, flash V-signs, and radiate cuteness?

“During rehearsals, the choreographer suggested making Sang-gu cuter,” Uhm explains. That’s when gestures like winking were added. Before filming, he steeled himself with the thought: “If I’m not cute, I’d rather die.” He admits it was terrifying—someone who’d never made such expressions suddenly doing so risked looking absurd. After endless deliberation, he threw himself into it with that life-or-death resolve, attempting every cute gesture he could muster.

Sang-gu demanded expressions Uhm rarely used before: adorable faces, gestures, rap, choreography, and comedic timing—all foreign tools. Yet being naturally shy didn’t excuse hesitation on set. Facing the camera, his duty as an actor to deliver the scene outweighed any embarrassment. There’s a critical difference between Sang-gu appearing awkward as a character and Uhm performing awkwardly as an actor.

“Once filming started, personal embarrassment became irrelevant—I just had to execute,” he says. “It was about committing fully” without forcing it, letting months of preparation flow naturally. He wanted to play with the carefree spirit of a four- or five-year-old running around after bath time. His family watched the film but offered no commentary on his cuteness; his mother, however, loved it, proudly anticipating audiences would enjoy it too.

Wild Thing reunited Uhm with Kang Dong-won for the first time in a decade since the 2016 film Vanishing Time.

This marked Uhm’s genuine first foray into comedy. Every actor agrees that making others laugh is the hardest task, and Uhm was no exception. However, working alongside actors fluent in comedic rhythm proved invaluable—Oh Jung-se as eternal runner-up ballad prince Choi Sung-gon, Shin Ha-kyun in a special appearance, and Kang Dong-won, who solidly supported Uhm’s comedic performance as the “leader.” These collaborations helped Uhm navigate comedy’s unfamiliar tempo with confidence.

“Kang Dong-won and I had great chemistry ten years ago during Vanishing Time,” Uhm reflects. “This time, the ensemble synergy was fantastic. Comedy relies heavily on timing, and the senior actors guided me through areas I didn’t understand.” He adds with humor that while he worked hard portraying Sang-gu, Oh Jung-se’s Choi Sung-gon operates in a different comedic league entirely.

Since the film opened on June 3rd, Uhm has been greeting audiences at theater events. For fans who’ve waited years to see him on screen post-pandemic, these encounters are especially welcome. Since this project showcases a side of him rarely displayed—his first full comedy—audience reactions differ markedly from before. Just as Sang-gu pushed through awkwardness to create laughter, Uhm now contemplates what more he can offer fans outside the theater.

“Stage greetings don’t feel scary,” he says with a smile. “I’m thinking first about what would make fans happy. I’m so grateful that I’d try whatever they ask—’I should do it, I have to, I’ll do everything.'” If fans truly want something, he’ll approach it in his own style, whether rap, dance, or anything else. He’s uncertain how far he can go, but he’s determined to try his best as a way of giving back.

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