kim – REEL K-POP

The Vincenzo Villain Saga – Part I

on October 24, 2021October 24, 2021 By francesca_ohop

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Yes, I know I have been inactive for a very long time. I was finishing my schooling at NYU and starting a new job, and it was impossible to work on this blog. Personal reasons also kept me away for a while, which I may talk about at some point. Now that I have graduated and am gainfully employed, I can dedicate more time to this, and I fully intend to do so. Some projects that are on the horizon include a video essay series and a podcast, which will see updates in the near future.

If you told me that my favorite show of the last five years would have been a mafia drama where people used parties, bees, pigeons, shamans, and zombies to stop a capitalist overlord from tearing down an apartment building, I would have told you to stop reading fanfiction.

But, here we are.

Studio Dragon’s Vincenzo (2021) has been out for a few months, and it was an absolutely wild ride beginning to end. There’s something about it that keeps you watching, and it somehow delivers on both a satisfying conclusion and making you want the show to never end. It is honestly the most surprising show I’ve watched in a long time. I was here for typical K-Drama shenanigans in mafia framing, but what I got was much, much more. The acting was great, the cinematography was incredible, and the writing – oh my god the writing.

However, what gives the show a special place in my heart is the villain. I have to say, I can’t remember the last time I was this compelled by a villain. Even Orphan Black, my favorite show of all time, took its extremely compelling Season 1 antagonist and redeemed them – the character stayed compelling, but the reasons completely changed over time. I have not seen a show in a long time where the focal point is a character who is genuinely irredeemable.

And, to be honest, I love Vincenzo’s pure-evil reprobate with all my heart.

Villains who lack good qualities are hard to write. They often turn out like omnipotent superpowers or emotionless cardboard cutouts (or caricatures of real people with real issues.) There is also a weird trend in popular discourse that if you like a character, you must like everything they stand for. To avoid this problem, the trend has been to make villainous characters sympathetic, or have something about them that offset their evil.

But, let’s be honest, “old school” Disney villains like Ursula, Scar, and Maleficent are more fun.

The other alternative to making a completely reproachable villain is the twist villain – a character who we have come to know in one capacity, and then is revealed to be someone completely different. Whether it’s a secret identity or an aspect of their personality they’re hiding, there’s some sort of reversal. The main issue that arises is that the villain might be more compelling if it’s not a twist. If the villain is going to be secretly evil, without a shred of good, why bother making them pretend to be a good person?

The fact that Vincenzo is able to pull this off so well is a testament to how good the writing is. A twist villain who also falls into the “pure evil” category, but manages to be compelling without compromising the integrity of the earlier parts of the story – that’s really hard to do. But it works. That’s what throws me so hard. It works. It takes these tropes and it doesn’t subvert them (a trope isn’t always a bad thing) but instead executes them perfectly.

So, while everyone else on the planet is talking about Squid Game, I’m going to take some time to talk about my favorite antagonist on all of television. This will be a five-part series on why the villain of Vincenzo is one of the best villains – if not the best villain – on television this year. The series will spoil the entire show, so I strongly encourage you to watch the show first before reading it. However, if you’re not sure whether or not to watch the show yet and are looking for more in depth reasons to watch, then this series might help you come to a decision.

The series will be as follows:

Introduction + Acting – YOU ARE HERE
Writing
Other Character Interactions
Scene Analysis #1
Scene Analysis #2 + Conclusion

For those of you who haven’t watched the show, this is the last warning. I will be spoiling the entirety of Vincenzo in this character analysis.

Pronto? Andiamo.

Introduction: Episode 4

At the end of Episode 4 of Vincenzo, Vincenzo Cassano (Song Joong Ki) and Hong Chayoung (Jeon Yeo Bin) have decided to burn down the tyrannical Babel Pharmaceuticals – literally. Disguised as a cleanup crew, they evacuated the building, sprayed it with gasoline, and disabled the sprinkler system. While safely tucked away in a van, Vincenzo flicks his signature Cassano Family lighter and drops it into a trail of gasoline, blowing the building sky high.

The chairman of Babel Group, Jang Han Seo (Kwak Dong Yeon) gets out of his car and panics upon seeing the damage. As we come to realize, however, he’s not scared because of the loss of revenue. The building blowing up is a problem for his safety…from another source.

A black car pulls up.

The door opens.

A pair of black Oxfords hit the ground.

Jang Han Seo stares, horrified.

Stepping into focus, wearing a scowl that could kill – and probably has – is…

…Chayoung’s former law intern.

Jang Junwoo, the plucky himbo we’d come to love for his awkward English interjections, was secretly Jang Hanseok (italics intentional) Han Seo’s half-brother and the true owner of Babel Group.

Han Seo panics and tries to salvage the situation. He starts screaming at the wreck about how he’ll get the people who did this, Hanseok silences him. He doesn’t have to shout back at him, he doesn’t have to physically overpower Han Seo. All he has to do is quietly tell his brother to be quiet, and his brother complies in abject fear.

We have barely encountered Hanseok’s true nature.

And yet.

We already know.

Jang Hanseok is a force to be reckoned with.

I swear to god, when this twist happened, I was jubilant. This isn’t a new trope – on tvtropes.org, it’s called “Beware the Silly Ones”. But this is the best execution I have seen of this trope yet. And I am not exaggerating. Every time I watch the show, I get chills when I encounter the true Jang Hanseok again. My friends who’ve watched the show at my suggestion have been just as impressed as myself, and we join forces on the regular to analyze our favorite villain.

Perhaps motivated in part by my love of villains, perhaps also motivated by my love of 2PM’s Ok Taecyeon, this will be a very, very deep dive into Jang Hanseok, to help us understand how to write villains – and how to direct them, as filmmakers.

PART 1: Ok Taecyeon’s Acting

We can’t analyze Vincenzo as a whole without addressing the acting. I was thoroughly impressed by the acting of everyone in the show – some roles were definitely played more for comedy, but I was never taken out of the immersion. Song Joong Ki and Jeon Yeo Bin have amazing chemistry together, and there isn’t a Geumga tenant I didn’t like.

However, the show rides on Taecyeon’s acting more than Song Joong Ki’s. Since we know that Vincenzo is a consigliere from the first minute of the movie, there are no twists in regards to his character or what he’s capable of. So yes, Song Joong Ki’s acting is brilliant, especially with how he subtly shows emotion and throws himself completely into any and every disguise.

But if Ok Taecyeon didn’t sell us on Jang Junwoo, Jang Hanseok wouldn’t be nearly as shocking or compelling as he is.

Taecyeon has to make sure that we’re just as caught off guard as the other characters when we find out who Junwoo really is. However, there has to be at least some consistency between the role of Junwoo and the role of Hanseok, otherwise it’s not believably the same person. Taecyeon’s acting is literally the hinge on which the plot swings.

SPEAKING ENGLISH

The use of English is probably one of the more interesting traits that’s shared between Hanseok and Junwoo. As Junwoo, it comes across as a quirk, almost to establish a childishness. It also implies that Junwoo has a problem assimilating in Korean culture, since he defaults to English constantly. He even states a lack of understanding by asking questions in an almost joking manner – “Koreans forgive you when you beg, right?” It implies that Junwoo is a “safe” character, because he is (allegedly) more focused on not causing a faux pas in this new space. People feel comfortable sharing sensitive information in front of him because they think he’s a fish-out-of-water American. (Without getting into spoilers for Burning, it’s like Steven Yeun’s character in that.)

However, when Hanseok is himself, he is able to fully articulate himself in both languages – using English is a choice as opposed to a default. He will talk business in Korean with a degree of fluency his brother doesn’t have. However, if he needs to, he’ll use English in negotiations – and since his lawyer accomplice Choi Myunghee (Kim Yeo Jin) struggles to do the same, this implies his reach is broader than any of his minions.

Hanseok uses English as a scare tactic as well. Since it is a language he grew up speaking, he expresses himself in anger with English. The angrier he is, the more English he tends to use. Take the car scene, where he screams “STAY. IN. THE CAR.” After beating the car to a pulp, he says, “Am I dreaming? I’ve never lost twice in a row in my life.” Then, to Choi Myunghee and CEO of Wusang Law Firm Han Seunghyuk (Jo Han Chul) he says, “This isn’t real. What is this?!” He does these things in English to establish the severity of the situation. Han Seunghyuk tries speaking English with him, but he’s not nearly as fluent and goes back to speaking Korean. In this scene, speaking English is a form of power that Hanseok wields.

The use of English also establishes a closeness in stature to Vincenzo. There are only three characters who speak more than one language fluently – Hanseok, Vincenzo, and the manager of Geumga Plaza, Cho Youngwoon (Choi Young Joon). These characters all have one up on the rest of the cast in some capacity (though Cho’s actual role in the story isn’t revealed until much later.) And, since the main conflict is between Hanseok and Vincenzo, the fact that both are fluent in another language establishes them as relatively evenly matched, making for a fantastic rivalry.

RELAXED POSTURE

Posture is important for an actor because it’s one of the primary ways we observe tension in a scene. If characters are standing at attention, it implies that there is a need to assert oneself, whether as subordinate or superior. Alternately, a character who appears relaxed portrays a disinterest with appearing inferior or superior. A shift in posture implies a shift in the dynamics.

Hanseok’s posture throughout the show is very relaxed, which implies a disinterest in exercising prowess over another. This plays a major factor when Hanseok is Junwoo. Appearing relaxed at all times implies that he’s willing to let other characters step all over him (which, as we find out when we learn his identity, is a power play.) It also makes him seem more lackadaisical and awkward, which means people look over him like he’s not even there.

Which, of course, is exactly what he wants.

However, the relaxed posture creates an interesting dynamic when Hanseok is his normal identity. Hanseok rarely stiffens or stands to attention – instead, his body remains relaxed, even when threatening another character. This communicates to the audience that Hanseok’s prowess doesn’t need to be stated by the character himself. If Hanseok were consciously standing upright the whole show, it would mean that he has to assert his power. But people are afraid of him no matter what he does. He has no need to appeal to show how powerful he is.

In fact, most of the posture shifts come from Hanseok bending down to someone shorter. It’s an interesting way of establishing dominance because rather than staying above you, he makes it a chore to come down to your level. He’s subconsciously always above you. The only other time that Hanseok shifts his posture is when the shift in power is disrupted – usually towards Vincenzo and Chayoung, but also towards Han Seo. These are the only times in which he stiffens, usually because he’s trying to calculate the next move. It is rarely, if ever, out of fear. I would argue that Hanseok never telegraphs feeling fear. (In fact, I will argue that, but in a later article.)

EVIL EYES

Ok Taecyeon’s ability to express emotion with his eyes is actually incredible. Most of Hanseok’s character is expressed through his facial expressions, often very subtly – which is interesting considering that the character is very over the top. However, it’s Taecyeon’s eyes that I want to talk about here, because so much of the character is wrapped up in them.

Hanseok and “Junwoo” both artificially widen their eyes – by which I mean, holding them open wider. I really hope that Ok Taecyeon invested in eye drops for the role because he does this so often. But what’s interesting is that Taecyeon communicates something completely different for both Hanseok and Junwoo by using the same tactic. For Junwoo, he portrays a childish quality; for Hanseok, he portrays a deranged quality.

Junwoo’s eyes communicate innocence, especially because they’re often held open for comedic effect. When Junwoo messes up, his eyes are wide. When he acts exaggeratedly, his eyes are wide. It gives him the illusion of a babyface, despite having a jaw that cuts you by looking at it. This is key for the misdirection of the first four episodes, because his face literally telegraphs his manchild status among the other characters.

However, Hanseok’s eyes.

Hoo boy.

Every time Hanseok’s eyes are wide you know something is wrong. He most often does it to get under the skin of another character – like he does with his minions constantly. He pierces Han Seo with his gaze constantly, to the point that Han Seo rarely looks him in the eye. After the reveal, when he does his typical Junwoo-isms like acting childish, he’s almost always doing it to catch another character off guard, and his eyes being open helps with that.

Where it most freaks me out is in the scene where Hanseok beats someone to death with a hockey stick. His eyes are wide the entire time, in a sadistic glee. As he’s threatening Chairman Jang in the same scene, he uses his eyes to completely disarm him. This gets under my skin like nobody’s business, especially paired with the high-pitched cooing he does. Which, of course, is the intent – to make you feel his gaze in your bones.

(Bringing another actor into this, Jake Gylenhaal achieves a similar effect in the movie Nightcrawler. No spoilers. Please watch that movie.)

WRAPPING UP…FOR NOW

It’s amazing how Ok Taecyeon is able to portray the character of Jang Hanseok so perfectly. Taecyeon mentioned that playing Hanseok allowed him to show “a different side” to himself, and while the pretense worries me a bit, I can see that he threw himself into that character. I don’t know what Taecyeon’s process is as an actor, but I would love to find out what he used to get into character.

That said, we can learn a lot from how Ok Taecyeon plays the role of Hanseok about how to portray both comic relief characters and villains. The shared traits not only keep the character consistent, so that he’s recognizable both as Hanseok and Junwoo, but they completely subvert our understanding of the archetypes these characters belong to. The consistency also makes it easier to see what is uniquely Hanseok – that being violence and power.

There is, of course, much more about Ok Taecyeon’s acting that could be unpacked. However, to avoid turning this into a dissertation, I am going to cap it here. We’ll come back to this when I do scene breakdowns later on, but I want to make sure there are at least some surprises!

For now, I say: ci vediamo!

Hwasa’s “Maria” – A Brief Intensive on Shot Composition

on August 5, 2020October 16, 2020 By francesca_ohop

With quarantine going on and not a lot for me to do but do commissions and watch K-Pop videos on repeat, I’ve had time to reconnect K-Pop as a whole. Three recent releases in particular connected with me more than others. One was Hwasa’s “Maria”, another was Sunmi’s “pporappippam”, and the last one was Dreamcatcher’s “R.o.S.E. Blue”. This isn’t a slight at other K-Pop releases that have come out recently, these were just the ones that clicked with something in me personally. Other songs will click with other people on the same level. But this is my blog, so I want to take some time to talk about these in full.

I’ve been a big fan of MAMAMOO’s since 2016, so you can bet I’ve been playing Hwasa’s “Maria” nonstop virtually since it came out. Judging from the fact that the video got 12 million views in less than three weeks, I’m not the only one. The song is an absolute bop, with powerful lyrics and a great melody. Hwasa’s voice and the Latin beat add a dimension of acoustic authenticity to the synthetic sounds within the song. I will jam out to it when I’m doing literally anything. It’s that good.

But as good as the song is, the video itself hearkens to something deep within me. The lyrics of the song are exemplified by visual cues and dynamic scenes. The colors strike a balance between green and red, warm and cold, vibrant and muted. It’s an elegant affair, yet it has elements of grit. There’s florescents and fire for lighting, flickering, even palpating. And, of course, the iconography – the dinner scene, the funeral, the crown, the asylum, the scissors. It’s truly a masterwork.

However, there’s one specific thing about the video I want to review for how brilliant it is, and it’s the shot composition. The framing of the shots themselves is part of why the video works so well. I will break it down into three categories: Dynamic Shots, Negative Space, and Set Design.

DYNAMIC SHOTS

This is an easy one to discuss: there is not a single moment in the video with static framing. The camera is never set on a tripod, shots that would normally be still are done via handheld. The movement may be slow, but it is always – always – moving. This injects energy into every scene, because you always feel like you’re moving alongside Hwasa. Whether or not the camera is pointed at her, you experience everything with her.

In a music video, this is especially important, because the idol is in fact the star of the whole thing. We have to feel engaged with her personally, or else we lose interest once the song is over. But keeping the camera alongside an interesting subject keeps the viewer on their toes and eager to continue watching.

NEGATIVE SPACE

According to Lights Film School, negative space controls the color palette of a shot, simplifies the shot, adds depth, and isolates the audience’s attention. The negative space in “Maria” accomplishes exactly that. Looking at the iconic lighter shot, the background is shrouded in darkness, minus a soft light on Hwasa’s face. Then, hands carrying lighters enter the shot, giving color and illumination via the power of editing.

What makes the shot work is the negative space in the background. You could divide the shot in half – the top half is mostly negative space while the bottom is filled. Hwasa’s face is framed by negative space on either side. The hands all point upwards towards her face, driving the focus towards her. Her hair, eye makeup, and lips are red, while the rest of the shot is gold and black, making sure she’s the focus of your attention.

Negative space isn’t always an expanse, though. It’s emptiness, and that can be on a stage as well. And the sets are sparsely populated. Hwasa is often isolated in a frame, with nothing behind her. The asylum set is particularly empty most of the time, and the white, glossy tiles give a feeling of sterility. When offset by naturalistic imagery like rose petals and flames, it establishes a range of emotions that Hwasa is trying to get you to experience.

However, there is also a lack of negative space in many scenes. A lot of shots have monitors or other actors, filling the space. Other shots are extremely close to Hwasa, putting her in claustrophobic framing. This parallels the lyrics about dealing with adversity and loneliness, even in (and especially in) her position as an idol.

SET DESIGN

By far, the most important part of the shot composition is the set design. The set design is what drives the attention towards Hwasa – no matter the scenario, it can’t overwhelm her. In this music video, however, the set design accomplishes the tremendous feat of highlighting Hwasa while still being unique on its own.

While I could go on and on about the asylum and all its monitors, or the beautiful funeral scene with flowers and chairs surrounding Hwasa, or the dinner scene with inedible objects as food, let’s take a different approach. I want to talk geometry. I can hear you scream at me from beyond the screen, “But math isn’t art!” And I am here to tell you no: math and science make up the building blocks of art and life. From Da Vinci’s “Vitruvian Man” explaining the proportions of the human body in geometric terms, to Fibonacci’s “Golden spiral” representing the logarithmic spirals we find in the natural world, to even the patterns you might find in feathers on a wing or leaves on a tree.

The sets in Hwasa’s video are emblematic of various geometric design principles. According to Debbie O’Connor of White River Design in Australia, squares, triangles, and circles give off very specific emotions. To paraphrase, squares represent stability, triangles represent aggression and metaphysical direction, and circles represent unity and harmony. Any of these qualities can be framed in a positive or negative light (stability/monotony, aggression/power, unity/homogeneity) but the point is they can accomplish powerful things as principles of design.

One thing I noticed about Hwasa’s video is that most of the sets, save one, are not shaped as a typical rectangle. Instead, they are shaped as either a very sharp triangle or a circle/oval. There are two prominently featured sets an asylum set and a triangular bathroom. The circle loops all attention towards Hwasa via the curves in the walls and her placement on screen. The triangle creates leading lines that directly point towards Hwasa, making her the center of attention always. Even the hallway subset is mismatched and angular – in spite of the rectangular doorways, the shape of the hallways resembles an abstract polygon as opposed to a simple rectangle.

Keep the mission of the video in mind – it’s meant to communicate how Hwasa deals with adversity and loneliness. In nearly every shot, Hwasa is either center stage or completely alone and isolated. Circles, while generally associated with positive qualities, can be put in a negative context. In Westworld, (Season 2, Episode 4) director Lisa Joy put a character in a circular room filled with spherical objects to show the central character’s monotonous life and spiral into insanity.

In “Maria”, the same effect is achieved. The circle room is an asylum setting – sterile and pure. By contrast, the set with the Mediterranean archways is palatial, with a chandelier. We are meant to view the set as regal, just as we are meant to view idols as royalty (note the crown of nails that appears in the video.) It also has a cathedral-like quality (again, note the crown of nails, which might as well be a crown of thorns.)

The triangular bathroom, meanwhile, is also palatial; however, because of the sharp angles, it’s not serene, it’s unnerving. Hwasa’s hair is matted from the bathtub – which is an unnatural shade of white – and her makeup is smudged. She’s wearing plastic gloves in a bathtub, or more specifically, an area you’d assume she’d be more vulnerable in. The tile is dirty, and the painted paneling mixed with the wallpaper is borderline chaotic. She’s surrounded by velvet rope, like a movie theater, almost like this private place is only here for her to be put on display.

The combination of these elements perfectly showcases the mission of the video. Hwasa lays her psyche bare for us. She wants us to feel the intense emotions that come with her fame: the chaos, the loneliness, the beauty, the pain.

That is, until the end.

There is only one shot in the entire music video that has a rectangular composition. Only one shot where the set pieces form a rectangular frame. Only one shot where the composition is meant to indicate stability, strength, and comfort.

It’s the shot where her bandmates from MAMAMOO come to comfort her.

While “Maria” deals with heavy concepts, it doesn’t end in sadness or misery, but in joy. It ends in a serene composition, where her friends are framed visually by a brightly lit environment. It communicates to us that in spite of the trials that Hwasa faces, she’s surrounded by people who love her. It doesn’t erase the burdens, but it provides reprieve.

When making a movie or analyzing a movie, you have to keep in mind how pieces play into a greater whole. If there is a theme central to a story, every shot should enhance that theme, whether to exemplify or subvert it. “Maria” accomplishes this in every possible way. The whole of Hwasa’s work is, needless to say, positively breathtaking. The rawness, the vulnerability, and the creativity – these are the pieces that make up the future of K-Pop.

The Neverland Project – Episode 5 “Delirium” Breakdown

on April 7, 2020April 7, 2020 By francesca_ohop

Trigger warning: this episode talks about heavy themes, including suicide and abuse. If you are in need of immediate help, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

The fifth episode of my fan series Neverland is finally done. I wanted to get into some of the side plots at this stage, plots I’d hinted about for a while but hadn’t actually covered in detail. In this case, it was Jungkook and Suga’s story – it’s one of the few stories that we actually get detailed scenes of, and can form a narrative around.

It’s pretty straightforward what happens between the two of them as far as the videos are concerned; however, there are so many scenes that are scattered around that refer to the plot, it was hard to make decisions about them. I ended up having to cut a shot I desperately wanted to keep, one that was at the end of the Run MV. But that’s what editing is about, trying to decide what best suits your story.

The title of the episode, “Delirium”, comes from a dystopian book series of the same name. The series, written by Lauren Oliver, was about a world in the not too distant future where love is deemed dangerous and illegal. To prevent people from falling in love, or even experience parental or friendly love, a procedure is done to get rid of the capacity for those emotions. It’s all about the beauty and danger of love, and it’s an excellent read if you have a chance. Back to Neverland, love is the primary theme of the episode – specifically, the risk of pushing people away.

The episode starts with one of the hyper-saturated sequences (so presumably a dream or other version of reality) where Jungkook is on a train. He flashes back to a memory of himself sitting on the floor, seeing the other members partying around him, but when the camera pulls back, no one is there, and the colors are sapped from the world. You may notice, as per usual, Jin is glitching black-and-white, but someone else also seems to be suffering the same affliction…

We then get flashback glimpses of a scene between Jungkook and Suga (indicated by subtle changes in the color grading, as well as Jungkook’s hair because I am unfortunately limited in my editing prowess) where we see just what kind of a relationship they have.

It’s not 100% clear what kind of love Jungkook and Suga have, be it agape or philia or pragma or what have you. Nevertheless, it’s clear that there is love between the two in this story, so when editing I tried to capture that as much as possible. The scene in question is when Suga has been drinking and starts destroying everything in the little apartment they’re in. Jungkook physically tries to hold him back, but Suga pushes him away and into the ground.

Interspersed between these clips is Jungkook walking alone outside, when he accidentally runs into someone. The guy picks a fight wit him, pushing Jungkook around in a very similar fashion to Suga. I want to compliment Jungkook for his acting in the original music video because wow the pain in his face feels so genuine! I was genuinely impressed seeing this in the original “I Need U” music video and I’m impressed to this day.

Anyway, Jungkook eventually collapses on the ground. In the saturated dream sequences, we see him running through a darkened train, which opens out in front of a motel with the name Omelas. (Please see my article on Episode 1 for an explanation of the reference; the short version is that Omelas is a sort of paradise.) As soon as Jungkook runs towards it, we catch a glimpse at reality, where he finds himself looking straight into an oncoming car.

Suga’s story, meanwhile, is very solitary and lonely. He breaks into a music store and plays on a piano, but falters partway. Then he hears a whistle – the same whistle repeatedly associated with Jungkook. He goes to follow it, and sees a coming, so he jumps out of the way. Based on the context clues, this is the same car that Jungkook saw. He runs towards the crash, blood staining the ground, and the music store has been destroyed. He still hears the whistle, but it’s far away and hollow. The flames that engulf the piano turn black and white, while the rest of the world is still in color.

In the final scene, Suga is in bed, playing with his lighter. Eventually he pours gasoline around himself and lights the room on fire, bearing one last pained expression. Meanwhile, Jungkook, in his black-and-white world, puts together a letter and looks ahead, wings spreading in his shadows, and his world starts to turn color again.

In this story, Jungkook and Suga are meant to symbolize innocence and experience, or rather innocence and self-destruction. Jungkook tries to be there for Suga while he becomes violent and self-destructive, and stays that way until the end. He takes beatings, he barely fights back, because he wants to see good in Suga. Suga is on the opposite end – he symbolizes self destruction. Even with Jungkook around, he’s a tornado of conflict, causing havoc wherever he can. The moment Jungkook is gone, he spirals out of control, and can’t handle it. He makes active choices, but they end up causing pain for others and himself.

The relationship between these two characters, from the glimpses we get in the music videos, is like a Shakespearean tragedy. They love each other, but it ends up being painful. One constantly shows his love, but he never gets through to the other, who shows his love too late. The essence of Neverland is meant to be bittersweet, and in this episode, we get the bitter.

The Neverland Project – Episodes 3 and 4 Breakdown

on April 4, 2020April 4, 2020 By francesca_ohop 1 Comment

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE

Sorry about the delay on this article. I’m bundling episodes 3 and 4 together because these in particular follow a continuous story, because they pull a lot from BTS’s “Prologue” video, which has a fairly consistent narrative arc. To avoid rehashing the story and to leave certain things open to interpretation, I won’t be covering the story itself, just particular choices I made while editing this.

Starting with “Death in the Afternoon,” the title doesn’t actually reference a death that occurs in the episode, because no such death occurs. I have been maintaining a convention of using literary references to address plot points. “Death in the Afternoon” is a reference to a book by Ernest Hemingway, where he talks about Spanish bullfighting. However, Death in the Afternoon is also a cocktail, made up of champagne and absinthe, and invented by Hemingway. Absinthe is a highly alcoholic spirit, often associated with hallucinations (though this is not substantiated by scientific research.)

We actually see Namjoon drinking absinthe in “Blood Sweat and Tears” – absinthe is often vibrant green, and served with a sugar cube. Typically, you pour water over the sugar cube to dilute the absinthe and mix the sugar in. However, Namjoon lights the sugar cube on fire to melt it and we never see the water. This likely means that Namjoon did not dilute it and is drinking it effectively raw. This is not the first or last reference to mind altering substances in these music videos.

The second episode is called “Crossing the Water,” which comes from a poem by Sylvia Plath. Sylvia Plath was a brilliant poet who committed suicide in 1963. There is a line from this poem: “This is the silence of astounded souls.” As you’ve probably noticed, much of Neverland is done without dialogue, but in some moments there is almost complete silence. These are moments to reflect on what the story might entail.

Building on the idea of hallucination and alteration of the mind, there’s a scene in the middle of the episode that acts like a montage, set to “Run”. There are moments that occur squarely in reality, signified with a camera filter (we see Jin running around with a camera several times.) But then there are foggy, vibrant sequences, where characters are partying. It’s not so much that the scenes are not reality, but they’re not the same – it’s a perception of reality.

I also focused heavily on Jungkook and Jimin. This is because, as you’ll see in other episodes, they are often victims of circumstances caused by others. I hinted at this through a number of things – the blindfold sequence with Jimin, and Jungkook on the swing and drinking absinthe from his finger (and eventually flying.) Namjoon and V also get some screen time in this sequence, as Namjoon’s character falls into escapism and V is shrouded and self-isolated.

Building on the theme of perception, Jin is constantly flickering in and out of black and white. I have mentioned in other articles I use color as a means to tell story and say something about a character. Jin exists on a plane of existence separate from the others, as signified by the grayscale environments he’s seen in. But when he’s around the others, he flickers in and out, like a broken TV. This shows maybe he doesn’t see himself as being on a different plane, even though he is.

There are numerous moments where the colors attributed to Jin change in order to indicate an alteration of perception. In the museum scene, the painting and world around Jin turns black and white. When Jin is “summoned” to see the other members again in the normal plane, Jin’s black-and-white world turns vibrant and he begins to glitch out. He stays entirely black and white at night, and generally stays colorful at the beach. And when V knocks down his house of cards, once he sees the vision of V underwater, the people around him change into black and white as well.

The main plot point throughout this arc, however, is V coping with the death of his father in the previous episode. We start with him crying on the phone to someone, then move to him meeting his friends. They have fun for a while, and in another dream sequence, V sees a puppy, signifying his hope. But a cage falls around him, and the puppy leaves – he becomes someone without hope.

At the end of the video, V is on top of a tower by the beach. He looks towards his friends, then just before he jumps off, he enters the same plane as Jin – he turns black and white as well. As the video fades out, the colors become vibrant again.

As I’ve mentioned before, I intend to leave much of Neverland to interpretation for my viewers and readers. Do I have clear ideas of where I want it to go? Yes. But the thing about film, particularly fan films made out of existing material, is there’s fun in ambiguity. The symbols I pick mean something to me that could resonate differently for others. If you have your own theories or ideas of what the story says, you are welcome to comment, be it on this article or the videos. I hope that you are able to find your own meaning in this story, particularly as it unfolds in the coming installments.

K-Pop and Sci-Fi – A Complete Deconstruction

on February 5, 2020November 16, 2020 By francesca_ohop

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS ARTICLE DISCUSSES THEMES OF DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE.

Science fiction and K-Pop have a long and storied history. From the likes of Lee Jung Hyun’s “Wa” to the stylings of bands like BIGBANG in the early 2010s, science fiction has been used as both a stylistic and a symbolic element in many music videos. This stems from a number of cultural and social contexts that, while prevalent in other countries, are particularly prominent in South Korea. But, what’s fascinating about K-Pop is how varied the aesthetics of the sci-fi are, while still retaining many of the same themes.

For cultural context, it’s pretty easy to see the correlation between dystopian sci-fi and South Korea’s relationship with it’s northern neighbor. Dystopian themes in fiction often are reactionary towards events that are occurring in a certain time period. And South Korea’s been in a dire political situation for over 60 years. Even before that, Korea hasn’t known peace, having to deal with Japanese imperialism long before the conflict with the North. It’s no wonder that there’s always been a large amount of K-Pop videos that deal with dystopia – while I don’t read everything as explicit political commentary about the relationship between the North and South, I do think that it’s stemming from a very real place in the cultural psyche.

Now is when I state the obligatory: this is not a political essay. I have no intent of telling you what you should and shouldn’t believe. Capitalism versus socialism versus libertarianism, that’s not the issue I am putting at stake here. What I am trying to say is that there are certain aspects of the world that contribute to why K-Pop is the way it is, and what its music videos communicate in context. I know many film critics like to bring anything and everything back to politics, but as an artist that has never been my angle. I do think, however, science fiction has inherently political connotations, and therefore I desire to put it in context.

However, there are more layers to K-Pop’s use of sci fi. One is the cultural context of suicide and depression in the country – Korea has the 10th highest overall suicide rate in the world, according to the World Health Organization. Depression is not well treated, and age discrimination as well as socio-economic discrimination largely contribute to this. As a result, you get visual representations of this stress in media. In K-Pop, what we see is a lot of normal people placed into highly emotional and stressful situations, and often times succumbing to whatever situation they’re in. Science fiction, much like horror, takes that to a natural extreme, wherein the circumstance often leads to demise of some sort.

Lastly, there is a particular irony that arises from science fiction used in an idol setting. I have found in my six years of listening to K-Pop that the genre is incredibly self-aware, in spite of its treatment towards idols. The institution knows that it puts these people – often young kids, through horrible processes in order to create an easily accessible product. However, it does so by intimately incorporating us, the fans, into their lives – something which other sects of the music industry haven’t figured out yet. While this does give idols a connection with their fans, which I view as inherently positive, it does put the idols in a perilous position of feeling like their own actions aren’t really their own.

Art imitates life at the best of times. K-Pop, especially in the last ten years, has given us a lens into the lives of idols, both in a positive and negative way. Sci-fi in K-Pop largely orients us in the negative aspects of their lives, but at its best, it orients us in both, and shows us the discrepancy between the two. We get both the elation of glamour and the fear of failure, all in one. When most of the world separates the two, showing elegance as a byproduct of capitalist oppression, K-Pop uses it to communicate something else – the issue of fame.

While K-Pop’s use of sci-fi tends to blend these elements in certain ways, it’s not necessary for videos to use all three at any given time. Let’s look at an example: Brown Eyed Girls’ “Sixth Sense”. This is one of my favorite K-Pop videos, in part because of nostalgia. This was one of the first K-Pop videos I ever saw, when I was fifteen. Brown Eyed Girls was one of the first groups I ever “stanned”. While I do not consider myself a true stan of any group anymore, I have a special place in my heart for Brown Eyed Girls. If I ever met Ga-In in person, I would probably die on the spot from a heart attack, my life’s purpose complete.

Anywho, “Sixth Sense” combines the elements of politics and the idol industry without including the themes of depression and anxiety, at least not overtly. The video mainly revolves around a protest, where an authoritarian regime is gearing up to attack unarmed protesters. These unarmed protesters, in true K-Pop fashion, protest through dance. Peppered through the video are vignettes with each of the four members. Ga-In is sitting in a chair, wearing a military jacket and having her wrists bound. Narsha is in a pen of some sort, surrounded by cameras and lights, walking around on all fours. Jea Kim is lying in a pool, being rained on, also with tied wrists. And Miryo is chained in front of some microphones.

Immediately we get a sense of some sort of mythos that we don’t know the details of. Judging from the visual context, all four of them are prisoners of this regime, and judging from the fact that the military force is entirely male and Narsha is sexualized as a pet, there are themes of exploitation of women. However, the mass synchronicity of this military is very visually reminiscent of videos of North Korean soldiers. The clothing is also fairly contemporary; the only thing that seems particularly futuristic is Miryo’s red coat and thats only because it’s leather.

Let’s go back to the idol elements though. The sexual exploitation of women in entertainment as a whole appears to be what’s on blast here, judging from how all the women are imprisoned. Narsha’s character is interesting because she’s hyper-sexualized, but seems to be torn between enjoying the attention, from how she doesn’t ever reject the cameras and lights, and being autonomous, from joining the protest ultimately.

There’s also Miryo’s role as being the spokesperson and rapper. Rap is often where the anger and resentment in a song comes out, but also is one of the most easily accessible modes of musical storytelling. As the rap speeds up, so too does her discontent increase, until she rips out of her chains. I parallel this imagery to idol culture because she is literally forced to be a spokesperson in this scene. She’s forced to speak for this regime presumably – she isn’t speaking for the revolution, that’s for the dance part. She’s speaking for the people who oppress her. That’s not unlike an idol who is being put onstage by a record company that doesn’t care about them. I am not making any accusations towards any company in particular, I am dressing a systematic issue.

“Sixth Sense” is an excellent video for its use of politics and its commentary on idol culture. But let’s go in the opposite direction – something with very few political connotations, but one that covers anxiety, depression, and tragedy.

VIXX’s “Error”, when it came out, got me so hyped I started pacing around the room to calm down. But I couldn’t help it. My teenage heart was freaking out. The visuals were so powerful, the story was so communicative, and the music – my god, the music. VIXX never fails to deliver on the vocals.

The story is Frankenstein meets Romeo and Juliet. Hongbin, the visual of the band – and one of several members who are professional actors – is some sort of robot tech. He has a girlfriend (played by Heo Youngji from girl group Kara) who dies from some untreatable illness. In his grief, he…well, it’s unclear. I think he turned himself into a robot and removed his heart so that he could cope. The bit that’s not clear to me is if he was a robot in the first place, I have always assumed not.

Anyway, after surgically removing his grief, Hongbin decides to rebuild his girlfriend as a robot, since that’s clearly his area of expertise. He creates the body but there’s malfunction, so he fixes her dispassionately. His expressions fascinate me in these scenes because there’s clear internal struggle, but his reactions are incredibly subdued. When he looks at Youngji, he doesn’t look at her with desire or sadness, simply determination and wonder. It isn’t until he gives Youngji her memories back he actually emotes, and even then it’s subdued.

Eventually, some suited authorities find Hongbin and Youngji and see that Youngji was an illegally created robot, so they plan to take her away, presumably to either reprogram or decommission her. Hongbin pushes the suits away and runs to the building chamber, where he and Youngji share a look of resignation. He kisses her on the forehead, and they walk towards the operating table, to which my teenaged brain practically screamed “OH MY GOD THEY’RE GOING TO DIE.”

And they do. The machine above them dismantles them as Hongbin cries silently. Youngji closes her eyes right as the machine goes to deliver the final blow, but Hongbin just sits and watches. All that’s left is a heart, which sputters and dies. I don’t really know whose heart it is, but I don’t think it matters.

Grief plays a huge role in the video, particularly the stage of Bargaining, whereby the person grieving decides “maybe if I do XYZ I’ll be happy and the pain will go away.” I have found, at least in my personal journey with mental illness, that Bargaining has played a huge role, because I and people I know have avoided getting help because they think it’s a sign of weakness. While making a robot of your dead girlfriend and giving it her memories isn’t exactly orthodox, I do think that the sentiment holds. There is no magic to make depression or grief go away, only ways to cope with it.

Obviously, Hongbin’s character does not cope with this loss, and ends up dying with Youngji. But there is a note of happiness in his resignation, because he got to spend a few more minutes with Youngji and come to terms with her death. He had to realize that she was not really alive, and that they both had to stop this charade. But the tragedy is: in accepting Youngji’s death, he dies too. It’s easy to experience a loss and think that the world will end because of this loss. He doesn’t even give himself a chance to start over. That’s heartbreaking.

This story couldn’t really work in fantasy. Yes you could have an Orpheus and Eurydice style resurrection, where one mistake sends the loved one back into the abyss. You could also have something like the Resurrection Stone in Harry Potter, where even though you bring back the dead, they don’t really belong in our world anymore. However, both of these have external consequences, wherein the universe is somehow thrown out of balance for your actions.

The reason “Error” is powerful is because you have a completely internalized struggle externalized through science fiction. Yes, the authorities do get involved. However, the authorities are not the ones who see the emotional core of his actions, nor do they necessarily hold him accountable. They just want the body back. In this way, the authorities are not the governing body of justice, it’s only Hongbin who experiences the consequences of his own actions. He’s the one who gives up his humanity. He’s the one who creates the metal body. And he’s the one who ultimately suffers. The only person thrown out of balance is himself.

Science fiction and horror allow for the externalization of the internal, something most genres don’t get to depict in the same way. Science fiction works best when it’s the creations of humans that turn against them, whether systematic like in “Sixth Sense” or literal like in “Error”. This is humans creating a situation because of some sort of need, that they then must experience the consequences of. Horror too works best when it’s based on internal struggles. Look no further than the works of Junji Ito for that – while the manga artist creates fantastical situations, the more terrifying elements are what occur when humans get involved in such circumstances. It’s the humans that tend to be more terrifying.

I’d like to look at one more example for thematic understanding of sci-fi in K-Pop: BIGBANG’s “Monster”. As I’ve said before, I generally avoid talking about BIGBANG on my blog because of Burning Sun. However, there’s no way I can’t talk about this video in this context.

BIGBANG’s “Monster”, like “Sixth Sense”, doesn’t have an explicit story – it’s mostly just the five members of BIGBANG trying to escape a science facility. They are, evidently, the world’s most glamorous experiments. They are adorned with bizarre costumes that look almost humorous in how extra they are, however when shadows creep into the frame, we see their eyes and faces morph. Sometimes their eyes glow. Sometimes they have cuts across them. Sometimes they have black tattoos. At one point, Daesung’s eyes are glowing gold, but his reflection has the black markings appearing all over. They transform in a number of overt and subtle ways.

What makes the video so poignant, however, is the ending. When G-Dragon finally escapes, there’s nothing outside. Just ash. A city is on the horizon, but with the ash falling like snow, how can we even be sure there are people there? Visually this, to me, is indicative of a sensitivity in South Korea to aerial warfare and its consequences – the idea that everything you know and love can be wiped out in a second.

In terms of where the themes of depression come up, “Monster” is lyrically a song about someone who undergoes a transformation that makes them seemingly unrecognizable to their loved ones. When applied to this setting it means that they have undergone so many experiments that their loved ones don’t see them in the same way. This is hits me hard because mental illness causes such a transformation, one that can be seen but not easily quantified. During that time where it’s not articulated by the person who is struggling, when they can’t put their finger on what’s wrong – that’s when the most damage is done.

Simply replace experiments with training, and you get an extremely dark self portrait. And yes, I say self – G-Dragon was one of the writers of the song. It also explains the elaborate outfits and “hidden self” imagery – we view idols in a public forum and put pressure on them to reach a personality ideal they can never reach.

I go into more detail in my article on Twice’s “Likey”, but my personal belief is that we need to stop treating idols as objects and more as people. “Monster” is a video that visualizes the struggle these idols go through in a very interesting way, by depicting the singers as prisoners. It’s a great storytelling technique, but it could easily fall under the radar under the VFX and fun costumes.

That’s the risk K-Pop idols run when they make a science fiction themed video. It’s easy to get caught up in how glamorous something is and how beautiful it is, and miss the emotion behind it. And the emotion is very, very real. It is possible to watch these videos and enjoy them on that surface level. I certainly do enjoy that. But when you put a video in context, it makes me appreciate it that much more. And that’s what I’m here to do, help you appreciate K-Pop for what it is: a beautiful yet terrifying niche genre of filmmaking.