What happens when political experimental filmmakers segue into the mainstream with a horror film? You get White, a wacked out mess of a film that is equal parts Ring, Black Swan and Andromedia schemata with the chaotic trajectory of Suicide Club. Such is the new film from South Korean twins Kim Sun and Kim Gok, where my reoccurring thought during the film was, how can a storyline that is so simple get so convoluted?
The Pink Dolls are a four-member girl group with dreams of topping the charts and winning the hearts of the fickle but obsessive teen market. Each girl has her own unique characteristic within the group that they hope to exploit: one is the best singer, one is the best dancer, one is the prettiest, and one is the most mature. When the group hits it big with a rehashed song and dance found on videotape cryptically titled "White," the curse is on! Vengeance takes over the group, like a possessed celebrity from teen idol past, and each one vies for the lead. But one by one they meet with a horrible--yet oddly not fatal--fate that lands them in the hospital and out of the spotlight.
Buried underneath these accidents appears to be a mystery that is waiting to be uncovered. Years ago there was a fire in the studio the group uses that killed a number of people. Even though the film spends considerable time and energy piecing together clues, I never understood the conclusion. Are they haunted by a former idol who committed suicide? Or was she murdered? Or maybe she was just bullied? Regardless, she is dead and she is very angry that the Pink Dolls are famous for a song they didn't create. There are mysterious videos, suicide notes, faulty wiring, suspicious sponsors, maniacal managers, rabid fans and one loyal friend that round out the nonsensical plot.
The Kim Brother's film is perhaps supposed to be a scathing condemnation of the idol system and the flash-in-the-pan fame that goes along with it. Everyone within this very well oiled, highly marketed machine deserves to die, or at least that is the impression you get from White. The superficial glory is stolen from stars in a manner of Se7en gone silly. The singer neurotically defiles her vocal chords by increased strain on hitting the high notes, over and over again. The beauty is stricken with puffy eyes from allergies or poisons from her make-up. The skilled dancer severs her spine in a reality show, but survives. And the last girl standing is trampled by her fans at the height of her stardom in a hilarious montage that pulls practically every J-horror cliché out of the basket.
White is clearly meant to be a horror film, but it produced far more sneers than scares from the audience. In the finale, the girl who wisely quit the racket before it was too late goes into a karaoke room to do a ritual burning of the items from her idol past. As she watches the content of the trashcan burn, the fire alarm goes off and the karaoke machine (gasp!) chooses the accursed song that doomed Pink Dolls. Much of the story comes off as tongue-in-cheek melodrama that may find a cult following ten years down the road, but the clear lack of structure, pacing and logic will bedevil this film to the grave.
The Pink Dolls are a four-member girl group with dreams of topping the charts and winning the hearts of the fickle but obsessive teen market. Each girl has her own unique characteristic within the group that they hope to exploit: one is the best singer, one is the best dancer, one is the prettiest, and one is the most mature. When the group hits it big with a rehashed song and dance found on videotape cryptically titled "White," the curse is on! Vengeance takes over the group, like a possessed celebrity from teen idol past, and each one vies for the lead. But one by one they meet with a horrible--yet oddly not fatal--fate that lands them in the hospital and out of the spotlight.
Buried underneath these accidents appears to be a mystery that is waiting to be uncovered. Years ago there was a fire in the studio the group uses that killed a number of people. Even though the film spends considerable time and energy piecing together clues, I never understood the conclusion. Are they haunted by a former idol who committed suicide? Or was she murdered? Or maybe she was just bullied? Regardless, she is dead and she is very angry that the Pink Dolls are famous for a song they didn't create. There are mysterious videos, suicide notes, faulty wiring, suspicious sponsors, maniacal managers, rabid fans and one loyal friend that round out the nonsensical plot.
The Kim Brother's film is perhaps supposed to be a scathing condemnation of the idol system and the flash-in-the-pan fame that goes along with it. Everyone within this very well oiled, highly marketed machine deserves to die, or at least that is the impression you get from White. The superficial glory is stolen from stars in a manner of Se7en gone silly. The singer neurotically defiles her vocal chords by increased strain on hitting the high notes, over and over again. The beauty is stricken with puffy eyes from allergies or poisons from her make-up. The skilled dancer severs her spine in a reality show, but survives. And the last girl standing is trampled by her fans at the height of her stardom in a hilarious montage that pulls practically every J-horror cliché out of the basket.
White is clearly meant to be a horror film, but it produced far more sneers than scares from the audience. In the finale, the girl who wisely quit the racket before it was too late goes into a karaoke room to do a ritual burning of the items from her idol past. As she watches the content of the trashcan burn, the fire alarm goes off and the karaoke machine (gasp!) chooses the accursed song that doomed Pink Dolls. Much of the story comes off as tongue-in-cheek melodrama that may find a cult following ten years down the road, but the clear lack of structure, pacing and logic will bedevil this film to the grave.
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