White: Melody of Death (2011)/ T-ARA Bullying Scandal

There is a legitimately great horror movie that could have been made about the K-pop industry (there could easily be body-horror film about what these girls put themselves through just to be accepted by the industry), but White: Melody of Death is content with being a passable horror movie – it often feels like a cross between Final Destination and The Ring. Indeed, the horror is the least interesting aspect of White; the films more entertaining elements center around the behind-the-scenes drama that plagues many K-pop girl groups.  The movie is more interesting in how it eerily parallels the career of its star, Hahm Eun-jung. Granted, she wasn’t the victim of a vengeful ghost but of unfounded bullying accusations that were propped by up spiteful netizens.  Eun-jung was a member of the popular girl group, T-ara, and a year after White was released, the group would be accused of bullying former member, Ryu Hwayong. This was a scandal that haunted the group for nearly half a decade, nearly derailing their careers in the process.  It is impossible to write about White without bringing up the bullying scandal, because bullying is a central plot point in the film.

It is difficult to understand White without knowledge of the K-pop industry.  I had zero knowledge of K-pop while going into this movie. I just assumed that K-pop model was very similar to teeny bopper model we have in the states. While there are similarities between the two, there are also significant differences. It is important to highlight the audition/trainee process to fully understand character motivations in White.  I should also note that most of the information that I gathered about K-pop comes predominantly from two YouTubers, Luvie Irene and Ploopy 678. Luvie Irene gave a detailed breakdown on the audition/trainee process, while Ploopy 678 gives a detailed account of the bullying scandal. If you are a fan of K-pop, then I suggest you check out their channels.

When it comes to auditions, an applicant usually must go through three to four rounds.
Round 1:  Online audition.  This usually consists of a zoom call where the applicant must do a song and dance for the judge. It could take months before the applicant gets a response. It should be noted that the three major agencies in South Korea are SM Entertainment, YG Entertainment, and JYP Entertainment.

Round 2: Private offline audition.  The applicant must perform in front of a judge in a private setting. Most of these auditions happen in South Korea. Occasionally, they will hold global auditions in a few of the major cities. 

Round 3: Applicant performs in front of more judges, and they choose which song the applicant must perform.  The questions tend to be on the more personal side.

Round 4: They ask even more personal questions and then finalize the contract. An applicant might have to go through more rounds, this usually depends on their age and their nationality (foreign applicants might need to do more rounds)

After the applicant has signed the contract, they are now officially a trainee.  No online training – all foreign trainees must move to South Korea (there were a few exceptions made during COVID).  The trainee stage lasts anywhere between two to four years. In rare cases, it might last longer (again this is usually predicated on the age of the trainee.  For example: Hyoyeon (of SNSD/Girl’s Generations) was eleven when she auditioned and spent six years in the trainee program).  The trainee lives a strictly regimented lifestyle – often their cellphones are confiscated, and they are not allowed to date.  They also live in a dorm with other group members. They must also watch their weight (they must keep it between 40-50 kg). This often means certain group members might starve themselves just to keep their weight within these parameters.  The trainee spends the next few years learning how to sing, dance, and speak foreign languages, and other skills (if you ever listen to K-pop music, you will often find they incorporate English phrases into their songs. T-ara’s extremely catchy song, Roly Poly, includes the phrase “I like-like this. I like-like that”). 

After the training period has ended, the group is given a name and then a televised debut showcase. The record label (and sometimes the group) will choose a member to be the leader. This is usually given to whoever is deemed the most mature of the group or has the most experience.  This is not a permanent position and will often rotate (though, the youngest member usually gets overlooked).

White opens with the Pink Dolls competing against the more popular girl group, Pure, on a television show. The audience is ecstatic over Pure – they have won the competition five consecutive weeks. It is now the Pink Dolls turn to perform and they are greeted with indifference – the audience doesn’t boo them, nor do they cheer them on. They are, in a word, boring!  The Pink Dolls consists of four members (Ah-rang, Je-ni, Sin-ji, and Eun-joo).  Ah-rang is the youngest member of the group.  Je-ni is the lead vocalist. Sin-ji is the rapper and dancer of the group and Eun-joo is the team leader. It becomes apparent that the Pink Dolls are a dysfunctional group – while Eun-joo is the "team leader," the other members are dismissive of her and view her as an “old maid.” It is implied that Eun-joo is in her early twenties, while the other members are in their late teens. One of them even suggests that Eun-joo should quit as it would “lower the group’s age average.”  It is also revealed that, before joining the Pink Dolls, Eun-joo was a backup dance. This is also something that the younger members hold against her – she is not even a “has been” in their eyes, but rather a “never was.”  The movie only vaguely touches on the impact of social media when one of the girls whines about the lack of views on the Pink Doll website.  It appears that their dreams of being K-pop idols are now kaput.

Despite the resentment, the Agency representative wants Eun-joo to step up in the leadership role. She even suggests that Eun-joo should prostitute herself to the group’s wealthy sponsor, the mysterious Mr. Choi, to help further her career.  Indeed, the only reason the Pink Dolls aren’t a complete footnote is that Mr. Choi has poured a lot of money into them; this includes moving them into a new studio to rehearse and record in.  The building burned down a few years ago (and was owned by Mr. Choi’s father) and he has renovated it so the Pink Dolls can work on their second album. It is while cleaning up their rehearsal space that Eun-joo finds a pile of old VHS tapes hidden behind a mirror. One of the tapes is labeled “WHITE” and contains a music video of a girl group performing a song called “White.”  The picture quality is extremely poor, and the lead singer’s face is obscured by a white wig, but the audio has managed to survive.  Eun-joo shows the video to the Agency Rep, who decides that she likes the song and that the Pink Dolls will cover it on their next album.  

Eun-joo’s only real friend is Soon-Ye, who was a K-pop trainee but quit because “my body was hurt and my heart was broken, but nothing worked out.”  Soon-ye now gives music lessons and works behind the scenes in the K-pop industry, she doubles for the Pink Dolls – most notably, she performs all the high notes during their live performance of “White.”  It turns out that while Je-ni is the lead vocalist of the Pink Dolls, she also struggles to hit the high notes.  

The girls’ manager arranges for them to appear on a television showcase (Club Wild Showcase) to debut the song “White.” The audience is, initially, apprehensive when they see that it’s the Pink Dolls performing (“Aren’t they bad?”), but completely change their tune when they hear the song “White.” It is a hit with the audience and the Pink Dolls become an overnight sensation.  Their online fanclub surpasses 20,000 members.  Things appear to be looking up – the girls are going to shoot a music video, appear on the reality show, Survival Challenger, and, best of all, appear on the 200^th episode of hit TV show, Music Fever.  However, misfortune strikes the group as three of the members fall victim to “freak accidents.”  

One of the subplots of White is over which member will be given the main spot (center) on the video for “White.”  This role initially is given to Je-ni, as she is the lead vocalist of the group. While laying down the vocal tracks for the song, Je-ni starts to feel hot and begins to sweat profusely. She initially chalks this up to her hyperhidrosis and drinks a special tonic that helps her with her condition. However, she manages to drink a month’s worth of tonic in a matter of hours.  Eung-joo is ready to leave the studio when she hears Je-ni screaming from the recording booth. She goes to check on her fellow Pink Doll and finds, to her horror, Je-ni hanging from the ceiling, with the microphone cord wrapped around her neck. Je-ni then pukes up the tonic all over the booth window.  The management manages to save her, but she will be out of the commission for a few weeks. 

After this unfortunate mishap, this main spot is given to Ah-rang, because she is the youngest, and cutest, out of the group. Not to mention, she sabotages Sin-ji a chance at the main spot by posting a video that shows Sin-ji was once an understudy to Pure. Ah-rang has also recently had surgery done on her eyelids and is convinced that the reason why her scars won’t heal is because Sin-ji put chemicals in her medicine, and cosmetics. This touches on a harsh reality of the K-pop world; idols will often get plastic surgery so that they can meet the strict beauty standards of the industry.  It is common for idols to get eyelid surgery so that their eyes look bigger. This isn’t even limited to the K-pop world, many Asian stars, to appeal to American audiences, have gotten eyelid surgery to look less Asian.

 Ah-rang and Sin-ji get into a heated argument and Eun-joo must step in and break them up. Ah-rang also accuses Eun-joo of poisoning Je-ni’s tonic to further her own career. It seems like she is joking but later the two other injured group members are convinced of Ah-rang’s theory. It is also interesting that this theory never makes it way online, because you could bet that, in real life, if a fading idol was given the spotlight after three of her group members fell ill, there would be rumors of foul play.  

While shooting the video for “White,” Ah-rang has camera rig strapped on to her and begins to bleed profusely from her eyelids. She loses her balance and falls off the studio stage.  Like Je-ni before her, she will be in the hospital and out of commission for a few weeks.  This just leaves Sin-ji and Eun-joo.

After careful consideration, the management decides that Sin-ji will be given the main spot (because she is the better dancer of the two).  To boast the popularity of the Pink Dolls, the agency has Sin-ji make an appearance on a reality show “Survival Challenge,” which consists of her having to survive a supposedly haunted building.  She manages to find the exit but is then ambushed by overzealous fans waiting for her outside. During the chaos, her hair gets hooked onto a camera crane; she gets swung around a few times before the crane eventually crashes to the ground, with her underneath. She fractures her spine, goes into a coma, and ends up in the same hospital room as her two group members. 

Eun-joo is convinced that the song White is cursed and that her three mates fell victim to a vengeful spirit.  She must figure out a way to the lift this curse before she falls victim to an “unfortunate accident.” With the help of Soon-Ye, she is determined to figure out the source of this curse, and that involves figuring out who the mysterious singer in the video was. 

The first two-thirds of White are effective and get a tremendous boast from its cast. The characters are well defined and it’s easy to sympathize with their frustration (even if, apart from Eun-joo, they are unlikable). The main reason why the girls act so catty towards each other is that their music career has failed to launch; what’s an even bigger slap in the face is that their biggest rival, Pure, was formed in under a month and has already found massive success.  It is significant easier to scapegoat one another instead of trying to figure out where they have gone wrong.  The only reason Eun-joo puts up with her three immature group members is that this is her last chance to achieve her dream. She has spent nearly a decade working toward her goal of becoming an idol, and it’s hard to walk away from this dream, especially when it is within her reach. Eun-joo confides to Soon-Ye that she doesn’t know what to do if the Pink Dolls are a failure. All she knows is the K-pop lifestyle and isn’t qualified to do anything else. Soon-Ye suggests that Eun-joo should quit the Pink Dolls and they can form their own group, the La La Sisters. Eun-joo contemplates it, but she decides to give the Pink Dolls one more chance.

Hahm Eun-jung is well cast as the frustrated Eun-joo. She does her best to put on a brave face despite the dismissive attitude of her Pink Doll co-members. Eun-joo desperately wants to make it in the industry with her soul intact; despite the insistence of her agent, she doesn’t want to use her body to get ahead.  It’s only when her life is on the line that Eun-joo agrees to see Mr. Choi – in exchange for information about the fire that ravaged the studio a decade earlier, she agrees to sleep with Mr. Choi.  This would be a minor point in most movies, but in White, it is apparent that this encounter traumatizes Eun-joo; the movie, thankfully, only hints at the tryst, but there is entirely scene devoted to Eun-joo sobbing uncontrollably while walking back to the studio.  It is at this point she has thrown all integrity out the window and sold her soul to the devil.  Mr. Choi, despite his limited screentime, is the real monster of the movie; his cold indifference to the horror that the girls have gone through is appalling. Eun-joo is just one of many girls he has exploited, and he (along with his sleazy father) has probably ruined the lives of countless girls, taking advantage of their naïve nature.  He is also a coward; when Eun-joo’s live appearance at Music Fever takes a turn for the worse, he immediately runs for the exit. This last point eerily mirrors the way the music industry turned their backs on T-ara during the bullying scandal; they are always looking to take the path of least resistance, even if that means throwing their artists under the bus. Hollywood is another example of this.

The third act is when the move loses its footing; in a curious decision it shifts the focus from Eun-joo to Soon-Ye.  After Eun-joo’s tryst with Mr. Choi, she finds a suicide note in the studio, and identifies who the singer was; an idol named Jang Ye-bin. It is revealed that Jang Ye-bin was bullied by her peers, who resented that she was given the main spot on the White video. They didn’t just throw verbal assaults her way, they also disfigured her face. She committed suicide and burned down the studio in the process.  After this reveal, Eun-joo and Soon-Ye hire a Mudang (female shaman) to perform a Kut ritual on the studio, to cleanse it of evil spirits. They also hold a funeral for Jang Ye-bin.  With everything, apparently, back to normal, Eun-joo is now free to resume her singing career.  She dyes her hair white and is given the stage name of White.  

However, it’s not just her physical appearance and name that has changed, but her attitude as well.  Eun-joo goes from being a humble, likable heroine to being a self-absorbed diva. 

While being interviewed by a journalist she tells three consecutive lies:
1) She downplays her friendship with Soon-Ye by claiming that the latter is merely an “acquaintance.”  The journalist notices Eun-joo talking to Soon-Ye and comments that the two of them appear to be close. Eun-joo immediately shoots that down. 
2) She denies that she was back up dancer, insisting that it is nothing more than a rumor.
3) She takes full credit for writing and doing the choreography for White.

None of these three things make any sense to me. It would be fairly easy to disprove the last two points, and, if anything, it would make for a better publicity to admit to the first two.  By admitting she was close friends with Soon-Ye, it would show that fame hasn’t changed her and that she is still a “down to earth” girl.  Eun-joo certainly has a “girl next door” type of vibe and it would make more sense for her management to exploit that instead of transforming her into a sex kitten. Though, in the American Teeny bopper scene, the female singers usually start off as “girl next door” types and then, once they hit eighteen, are transformed into sex kittens. Practically every girl singer has followed this trajectory, so that last plot point isn’t all that absurd.

By admitting that she was once a backup dancer, it makes her success even more impressive, while also acknowledging her humble origins.  It is the ultimate rags to riches story: Eun-joo went from being a nondescript back up dancer to being the biggest star in the country.  For example, practically everyone knows that Jennifer Lopez started out as a Fly Girl on In Living Color.  Her management understood just how much more relatable that tidbit made her and made sure to bring up as possible.  If Jennifer Lopez could work her way to the top, then you can too, dear viewer.

My main issue with Eun-joo’s change in personality is that it just doesn’t ring true. This is largely due to Hahm Eun-jung’s sweet natured personality; it’s hard to accept her in a diva role, because she, to be blunt, isn’t bitchy enough to pull it off.  I initially believed that Eun-joo had been possessed by Jang Ye-bin because of how abrupt her change in personality was. It kind of makes sense: Jang Ye-bin’s spirit removed all the competition and could now indulge in the fame she desired by using Eun-joo.  It could have made for an interesting plot twist.  Instead, the final act is just content with copying superior horror films like The Ring, Dark Water, and The Grudge.

Like those movies, there is a final twist – it turns out that the original White was not Jang Ye-bin but a backup dancer, who was bullied by Ye-bin and other girls and committed suicide by drinking bleach.  It also revealed that the dancer’s spirit appears in the music video, directly behind Ye-bin.  While attempting to burn the dancer’s suicide note, Ye-bin was startled by the dancer’s ghost, which led to the studio burning down. Soon-Ye desperately tries to call Eun-joo to relay this information but Eun-joo refuses to listen and insists are performing on Music Fever. Needless to say, all hell breaks loose.  This is also a plot point I don’t buy: in the first half, what separated Eun-joo from the other girls (other than her age) was how perceptive she was. When Ah-rang and Sin-ji began to experience the same symptoms as Je-ni (complaining about how hot is, sweating profusely) Eun-joo notices the pattern and realizes it is more than a coincidence. Yet, when she starts to experience those same symptoms while at the Music Fever studio, she shrugs them off; the symptoms come after Soon-Ye’s warning, which means she should be more alert.  She goes from being a sensible heroine to acting like a dumb teenager. 

The handling of the ghost is also more effective in the first two thirds of the movie; the audience is never given a good look at her. The first time we see the ghost, it is sitting in the background, out of focus, behind Je-ni. This is a pretty jarring moment because there is no build up to its appearance; it’s just sitting there staring at Je-ni. In a later scene, it is obscured by a frosted glass window while talking in Eun-joo’s voice. However, in the third act, all subtlety gets tossed out the window and we are given a good look at the vengeful spirit, and it’s underwhelming.  When it confronts Eun-joo, it sticks out its tongue and does the spider walk. Yawn!  That effect was creepy in the nineties, but it was commonplace by 2011.  It would have been more interesting if the filmmakers would have a chosen ambiguous route:  Is there really a ghost or is it simply the Pink Dolls imagination getting the better of them? 

Like I said, it is almost impossible to write about White without bringing up the real-life bullying scandal that derailed T-ara’s career. It serves as a reminder of the darker aspects of celebrity, fandom, and the internet. 

Here is a brief outline that leads up to the fateful day in July of 2012: 

2009 – T-ara is formed by MBK Entertainment.  The original pre-debut line up consisted of five members: Jiae, Jiwon, Eunjung, Hyomin, and Jiyeon.  These five trained together for three years under Mnet Media. In June, Jiae and Jiwon announced that they would be leaving T-ara due to “creative differences.” They were replaced by Boram, Soyeon, and Qri three weeks before their debut.  In July, the group was moved from Mnet Media to its subsidiary, Core Contents Media.
 T-ara makes their debut on MBC’s Radio Star talk show.
Their first performance is on Mnet’s  M Countdown on July 30 and is the subject of criticism; people complained it was lip-synched and of the amateur production values.  It was announced afterwards that all their future performances would be performed live.
On November 27, T-ara releases their debut album, Absolute First Album. It features the hit song “Bo Peep Bo Peep.”  The strength of this song helps put T-ara on the map. 
2010- July 16 – it is announced that Ryu Hwa-young will join T-ara, making her the seventh member.
2011 – June 29 – T-ara’s second EP, John Travolta Wannabe, is released.  It features the hit song “Roly-Poly.” It becomes the highest selling single of 2011. The group reaches superstardom. 
November – T-ara releases “Cry Cry,” which peaks at number one on the Billboard Korea K-Pop Hot 100.
T-ara released their third EP, Black Eyes, which charts at number two.
2012- Lee Areum joined T-ara, which expanded the group to eight members. 
June 6 – T-ara releases their first Japanese album, Jewelry Box.  
Shortly afterwards they embark on their first Japanese concert tour, and this is where the drama begins.



The controversy began on July 25^th when Hyomin wrote this cryptic post on Twitter,
“The difference in levels of determination. Let us have more determination. Fighting!!!”
The other members mirrored Hyomin’s sentiments and responded positively to her tweet.
The only one who disagreed was Hwayoung, who replied with,
“Sometimes, even determination is not enough. At times like this, I feel upset, but I trust that it’s a blessing in disguise. God, you know everything, right?”
It was then that Hyoyoung (Hwayoung’s twin sister) chimed in, “My better half is suffering. My heart hurts, no matter what anyone else says. (Hwayoung) you can get through this!”
Hwayoung replied, “I only have you!”
It was after this exchange that had fans scratching their heads. Why were the other members passive-aggressively ganging up on Hwayoung? 
To add fuel to the fire, on July 27^th, T-ara returned from the Japanese tour and the press, and fans, were greeted by the sight of Hwayoung wearing a cast on her left leg and being pushed in a wheelchair.  This made for extremely bad optics – they couldn’t believe T-ara would publicly criticize Hwayoung for being injured. 

This was when the rumors of bullying began to spread across the internet, and online sleuths spend hours scouring the internet to look for evidence that backed their claims. In one famous instance, a video of Eun-jung jokingly shoving a rice cake in Hwayoung’s mouth was interpreted as an attempted murder.  Practically any perceived slights against Hwayoung were interpreted as bullying – netizens often assumed bad intentions where none existed.

On July 30^th, it was announced that Core Contents Media was terminating Hwayoung’s contract, due to differences between her and the staff.
This announcement infuriated the fans and they, naturally assumed, that the company was “blaming the victim” and caving to the demands of the bullies (the other T-ara members).  This led to a major backlash.  The more zealous fans burned their T-ara merchandise.  Less than a week after this scandal broke out over 6,000 people left the official T-ara fan club. Whenever the girls performed on television, they were often greeted with boos, and in some instances, the fans would turn their backs toward the stage while T-ara performed. This scandal haunted T-ara for years and it derailed their singing and acting careers; Eunjung was forced to leave the show, Five Fingers and quit her tenure on the variety show, We Got Married, because of how intense the backlash was. The girls were so demonized in their home country that they devoted most of their time to overseas promotions (China, Vietnam, and Japan).

Flashforward to February 8^th, 2017 – Hwayoung and Hyoyoung appeared on the show, Taxi, and talked about their experience with T-ara. Hwayoung even shed a few tears on camera over the alleged bullying she suffered (even though she initially denied the bullying). The day after the episode aired, a former T-ara staff member came forward and said, “I can’t watch Hyoyoung and Hwayoung play the victim.”  The staff member revealed that the injuries Hwayoung suffered while on the Japanese tour had not been that severe, and, in fact, she had been given the “all clear” by the doctors to perform.  His claims were further backed up by photos taken at the time that showed Hwayoung walking around on her two feet. The wheelchair was nothing more than a PR stunt by Hwayoung to generate sympathy from the media and fans.

Even though Hwayoung had been cleared by the doctors to perform, she put up a fuss and claimed she wasn’t ready to perform. While the other group members spent all day rehearsing for the upcoming concert at the Budokan, Hwayoung rested at the hotel, and got her nails done. This was an especially grueling rehearsal for T-ara and the crew; with Hwayoung out the line up, that meant they had to rearrange the choreography, redistribute Hwayoung’s lines, and adjust the lighting. The girls spent nearly eight hours rehearsing and only got three hours of sleep afterwards. 
This was what prompted Hyomin to write her tweet about “determination,” she was frustrated.  Now, it probably wasn’t the best idea for Hyomin to air T-ara’s dirty laundry online, but given the circumstances, it is easy to understand her frustration. Plus, she didn’t directly call out Hwayoung. If neither Hwayoung nor her sister had responded, you would have assumed Hyomin was addressing the entire group.  Hwayoung did perform one song at the concert, while sitting on a chair. 

Before the group was set to appear at the Music Bank, Hyomin tried to bury the hatchet with Hwayoung, but was rebuffed. Hwayoung’s response to Hyomin was, “There is nothing that I feel bad for, so I have no reason to say I’m sorry.” She then walked out of the Music Bank venue and didn’t come back. This resulted in an awkward performance where Hyomin had to sing Hwayoung’s parts off a cue card.

It was shortly after that other staff members came forward to tell their own Hwayoung Horror Stories.  Hwayoung initially denied these claims, but things took a turn for the worse when threatening text messages sent from Hyoyoung to Areum (the youngest member of T-ara) were leaked to the press.  The twin sisters eventually admitted that most of the claims were true. 
T-ara was finally vindicated.  In biggest irony, the same people who spent nearly half a decade trashing T-ara completely backtracked on their position, and soon after the hashtag #Justice_For_Tara began to trend on Twitter.

 The damage, however, had been done and it was shortly after that Soyeon and Boram terminated their contracts with MBK Entertainment.  T-ara was now a quartet (Eunjung, Hyomin, Jiyeon, and Qri) – Areum left the group in 2013.  In June 14, the group released their ninth EP, What’s My Name.  Even though their reputation had been restored, on January 3, 2018, Hyomin announced that she, Jiyeon, Eunjung, and Qri would not be renewing their contracts with MBK.  This led to legal dispute between the girls and the agency, where MBK tried to register a trademark for the name T-ara. The four members responded by filing documentation that rejected MBK’s claims. On January 8, 2019 the KIPRIS (Korean Intellectual Property Rights Information Service) rejected MBK Entertainments trademark application, which meant that the remaining members could continue to tour as T-ara.
While the scandal derailed the girls’ careers, it didn’t destroy them. In 2021, after a four-year hiatus, T-ara reunited and released a new single album Re:Tara.  Though, not all the members of T-ara would have a happy ending; while writing this review (March 27, 2024) it was reported that Areum was hospitalized after trying to commit suicide; between the bullying scandal and an (allegedly) abusive marriage, she has had quite a rough journey.  

The T-ara bullying should be a valuable lesson about waiting for all the facts to come out before jumping to conclusions. Groups like a T-ara will always be the subject of rumors; there are always going to be netizens who are gunning for groups like T-ara and will use these rumors as ammo against them.  Unfortunately, for T-ara, so many people took the bait and immediately declared these girls guilty, even though there was little evidence to back these claims. The irony is that detractors were engaging in the very activity they claimed to despise, bullying. The last decade had been never-ending nightmare for T-ara (from being hated by the fans and media to having to fight MBK for their name) yet, through it all, they continued to get up on stage and perform. It would have been perfectly understandable if they had thrown up their hands in frustration and quit, but they choose to stand their ground and, eventually, were vindicated. You may not like their music, but you have to respect their strength and courage. 

It was also mistake by management to add two additional members to T-ara. They were a solid six-member group, and the addition of two members (Hwayoung and Areum) was a time bomb waiting to go off. The six members had developed a repartee with each other, and the addition of two members threw off the chemistry. My theory is the reasoning behind this move is that management wanted to imitate Girl's Generation (SNSD), who at the time had nine members. Except, in the case of Girl Generation, the nine members had been there from the beginning (there had been no turnover) and had great chemistry with each other. It must have been extremely awkward for Hwayoung and Areum to join an already established group (the only member who was close to their age was Jiyeon).  In Hwayoung’s case, she was not a popular member and often got very little screentime – she was, basically, a glorified back up dancer. That does explain why she pulled the stunt with the wheelchair - to bask in the attention she desperately desired. 

I don't want to fully demonize Hwayoung, because I really don't know her full side of the story. There are videos and articles that label her as a villain, however that would imply that she was some genius mastermind who planned this backlash. I don't think she is villain, more than likely she was an angsty, immature teenager who, on a whim, pulled a PR stunt to gain sympathy. She couldn't have foreseen the consequences of her actions. What started out as a PR stunt quickly morphed into an unstoppable Frankenstein Monster that rampaged across the internet. Netizens choose to believe these rumors (despite the lack of evidence) because it was a chance to knock T-ara off their pedestal. If there is one thing the public likes more than a success story, it is watching a celebrity fall from grace.

Cast: Hahm Eun-jung (Eun-joo), Hwang Woo-seul-hye (Soon-Ye), Maydoni (Sin-ji), Choi Ah-ra (Ah-rang), Jin Se-yeon (Je-ni), Byun Jung-soo (Agency representative), Kin Young-min (Lee Tae-Young), Kim Ki-bang (Manager), Yoo Mo-ri (Jang Ye-bin), Kim Soo-Hyun (White), Lee Jun-ho (Music  Fever host).

Directors: Kim Gok, Kim Sun
Writers: Kim Sun, Kim Gok
Running Time: 106 min.

Joysticks (1983)

Joysticks is the type of movie that will make have you asking: Is this the worst movie ever? It’s also a movie that modern audiences would label “problematic,” and rightfully so. While I tend to think that criticism of movies promoting “rape culture” can be overblown at times, it’s not entirely unfounded, and a movie like Joysticks completely validates such criticism.  It’s hard to talk about this movie without placing it in the context of the era it was made. In 1978, Animal House was a huge hit at the box office and, consequently, this resulted in endless rip-offs.  Flash forward to 1982 and Pac-Man was all the rage in the video game world. This is when a producer came up with the idea to combine the two. “People LOVED Animal House and they love Pac-Man, if I can combine the two, I will have a huge hit on my head.” The result was Joysticks – an extremely unwatchable sex comedy that serves two functions: 1) to display as much gratuitous nudity as possible and 2) to act as one long commercial for the upcoming video game, Super Pac-Man.  In the film’s climax the movie’s hero, Jefferson Bailey, challenges one of the baddies, King Vidiot, to a game of Super Pac-Man; the winner will gain control of the arcade.

The “plot” to Joysticks is simple: a greedy businessman, Joseph Rutter, wants to shut down the local arcade because he thinks it is a bad influence on the youth. The owner of arcade, Jefferson Bailey, thwarts Rutter’s attempts at every turn and eventually saves the day when he beats Rutter’s lackey, King Vidiot, in a game of Super Pac-Man. There are many things wrong with Joysticks, but probably the most glaring flaw is that the villains are significantly more likable than the “heroes.” This is largely because the villains are played by superior actors (Joe Don Baker, Jon Gries, John Diehl, and John Volstad). We are supposed to boo Joseph Rutter when he wants to shut down the arcade but given how the arcade is operated you begin to think that maybe he has a point. This is the same flaw I find with Animal House; when I was younger, I completely sided with Delta House. They were fun loving guys who had two goals in life: to party and get laid. Yet, watching the movie in my forties, I find that I related more to Dean Wormer. He was totally justified in wanting to kick these guys off campus; they not only failed in their studies, but they also took advantage of women. Dean Wormer is the real hero of Animal House and Delta House are the villains.

The performances by the lead actors range from mediocre to terrible:  Scott McGinnis is passable in the role of Jefferson Bailey, but he lacks charisma. Jefferson Baily is, of course, homage to James Stewart’s two most famous roles, Jefferson Smith and George Bailey; except that those two characters were actually likable and were  fighting actual corruption.  Leif Green is obnoxious as the nerdy Eugene Groebe. This is the kind of role that Eddie Deezen used to play to perfection and Leif Green is no Eddie Deezen. The worst of the lot is Jim Greenleaf as McDorfus, who seems content with doing a bad John Belushi imitation.

 It also doesn’t help that our “heroes,” Jefferson Bailey, Eugene Groebe, and McDorfus have highly dubious morals. There is an actual scene where Eugene and McDorfus sneak into Rutter’s house, find Mrs. Rutter sleeping in her bed, and McDorfus urges Eugene to rape her. The movie tries to let these two off the hook by making Mrs. Rutter a nymphomaniac, who has a thing for younger men, but it doesn’t make the scene any less disturbing. In another “hilarious” scene, Bailey manages to convince two nubile women to play a game of strip Pac-Man. The two girls are wearing nothing but their panties; it’s then that Eugene and McDorfus (at the behest of Jefferson) stage a fake fire, this freaks out the two woman and they run out into the arcade in their nude state. It’s at this very moment that Rutter walks into the arcade, and Bailey takes a photo of the two topless women standing next to Rutter.  The reason for this prank is earlier in the movie, in order to get into a sorority, the women must take a photo of a nerd in his underwear and they manage to persuade Eugene to take off his pants. While it could be argued these women get their just deserts, they are far more humiliated than Eugene was – he was still fully clothed and was wearing a pair of boxers.  Later, Jefferson Bailey throws a private party at the arcade and the only way women are allowed to enter is if they are dressed in the nighties.  Again, how exactly is Rutter the bad guy in this scenario? I also found it curious that there wasn’t a single child at this arcade, all the patrons appear to be in their twenties.

The compromising photo of Rutter with the two naked girls proves to be a pivotal plot point later in the film; Jefferson tries to use it to discredit Rutter. The two sides are pleading their case at a townhall meeting and, just when it looks like Rutter is winning over the crowd, Jefferson unveils the photo of Rutter and the girls. I find this idiotic for two reasons.
1) While the photo shows Rutter in a compromising position; it’s also an extremely bad look for the arcade. There are two naked women running amok in a private business, which would only amplify the fears many parents might have about the place.
2) It never occurs to Rutter to find the two girls and have them testify on his behalf.  They could easily explain the photo, clear Rutter’s name, and incriminate Jefferson Bailey.  It is also curious that these two women are prominent in the movie’s first half hour and then completely disappear from the movie after their humiliation ritual.  This often a fate the befell a lot of females in 1980s sex comedies; after they showed their tits, they no longer served a purpose and would be completely forgotten about. 

It's only in the last twenty minutes that movie decides to give Jefferson Bailey a character arc: it is revealed that he doesn’t play video games because whenever he looks at the screen of an arcade game, he is reminded of time when his girlfriend’s father walked in on them having sex.  Whenever he looks at the screen, he sees his girlfriend’s father sneering at him. Though, this revelation contradicts the scene earlier in the movie when he plays strip Pac Man with the two women. He later overcomes this fear when he beats King Vidiot in Super Pac-Man contest.  This is the kind of plot point that, if done right, could have been very funny, but the movie oddly plays it completely straight. 

While Joysticks is a terrible movie, there are a few bright spots: Jon Gries is funny as the punk rocker, King Vidiot. In fact, he is a way more relatable character than Jefferson Bailey – the only reason he sides with Rudder is because Jefferson kicks him out of the arcade for no real reason.  Corine Bohrer gives a lively performance as Rutter’s ditzy daughter, Patsy.  It also implied that she has a crush on Jefferson, but the movie never pays it off. At the film’s climax, Jefferson is reunited with his girlfriend, and we get a quick shot of Patsy with a jealous look on her face, and then she disappears.  

Joe Don Baker seems to be giving it his all, despite the material he is given. There is one scene that made me laugh: while pleading their cases to the town hall committee, Rutter and Jefferson paint two very different pictures of the arcade. In Rutter’s version, the arcade is hell on earth where Jefferson pimps out girls or has them mud wrestling in the nude. In Jefferson’s version, the arcade is depicted as being heaven on Earth: everyone dresses in white, drinks milk, and he teaches children how to read. This is the closest Joysticks comes to being witty, the rest of it is a complete waste of time.

Cast: Joe Don Baker (Joseph Rutter), Scott McGinnis (Jefferson Bailey), Jon Gries (King Vidiot), Leif Green (Eugene Groebe), Jim Greenleaf (McDorfus), Corinne Bohrer (Patsy Rutter), John Diehl (Arnie), John Voldstad (Max), Morgan Lofting (Mrs. Rutter), Kym Malin (Lola), Kim G. Michel (Alva), Jacquilin Cole (Alexis Wheeler), Logan Ramsey (Mayor Neville), Reid Cruickshanks (Coach Straight), Justine Lenore (Nurse Tubitt).

Director: Greydon Clark
Writers: Al Gomez, Mickey Epps, Curtis Burch
Running Time: 83 minutes

13 Steps of Maki: The Young Aristocrats (1975)

 

If you ever listened to modern day YouTubers and bloggers, you would think that the Girl Boss Film is a modern-day phenomenon.  Indeed, many online influencers genuinely believe that there were no strong female characters prior to 2016.   Of course, anyone who has watched 70s Hong Kong and Japanese Cinema know that those films featured a whole variety of Girl Bosses. The Japanese studio, Toei, had quite an impressive stable of kickass females, most notably:  Meiko Kaji (Female Prisoner Scorpion), Reiko Ike (Sex and Fury, Queen Bee’s Challenge), Miki Sugimoto (Girl Boss Revenge: Sukeban) and the star of today’s review, Etsuko Shihomi.

In my review for the Female Prisoner Scorpion, I claimed that Meiko Kaji was the female equivalent to Clint Eastwood. Etsuko Shihomi is more on par with Bruce Lee than she is with Clint Eastwood.  In the Female Prisoner Scorpion series, Nami was a woman of a few words and always kept her cool, regardless of the situation. She was cold and a calculating woman, who was always waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.  In 13 Steps of Maki, the title character is the exact opposite of Maki; she wears her emotions on her sleeves and has a warm, inviting personality.  Nami operated in a stealth-like manner when it was time to take out her opponents, while Maki prefers a blunter approach – she is confident that her fighting abilities will win the day, no matter what the odds are. 

Maki is the leader of a girl gang, The Wildcats. When they are not practicing karate, they roam the streets and take out the trash. In the movie’s opening scene, two women are tied to a train track by a girl gang.  It looks like their goose is cooked until Maki shows up.  Maki makes mincemeat out of the women gang members but is then ambushed by the male members of the gang. However, they prove to no match for Maki’s superior fighting skills (she was trained by Sonny Chiba, after all).   Unfortunately for Maki and her gang, they run afoul of the Yakuza. 

What initially starts off as a cat fight between Maki and rich bitch, Takako, evolves into a full out war.  They first encounter Takako on the road; Maki and the Wildcats are joying riding in a jeep and are cut off by Takako, and her boyfriend, in their Trans Am. The Wildcats swear to get even.  They get their revenge by tracking Takako down on the beach, stripping off her clothes, and burying her up to her neck in the sand.  It turns out that Takako is the daughter of Taizo Ebihara, a prominent businessman, who also has ties to the Yakuza.  Takako then strikes back by asking the Yakuza boss, Daimon, to help with her revenge. Daimon’s goons kidnap the Wildcats, strip them nude, and tie them up to a merry-go-round.  When Maki arrives to save them, Takako is standing on a rollercoaster track, laughing her ass off.  Of course, this only further infuriates Maki, and she responds by kidnapping Takako and forcing her to get a tattoo on her back shoulder (this marks Takako and prevents her from marrying into a respectable family). 

What began as a catfight turns into a full out war; Daimon’s men kidnap the Wildcats, shoot them up with drugs, and force them into prostitution. Maki breaks into Daimon’s headquarters to save the girls but, instead, runs into Daimon’s bodyguard, Eto.  He challenges Maki to a fight and if she beats him, he will tell her where the Wildcats are. It’s while the two are fighting that Daimon calls the cops and Maki is dragged away to a women’s juvenile hall.  This does not sit well with Eto, who was promised he would be allowed to beat Maki in a fair fight – he might be a low life, but he is an honest lowlife.

Etsuko Shihomi makes for a credible, and fun, heroine. She manages to inject warmth and even humor into what could have easily been a dour, one-dimensional character.  My favorite scene in the movie is when Maki visits her uncle, because it gives us a glimpse at her lighter side – this is the one scene where she can drop the tough girl routine and have a normal conversation with a family member. Her uncle does scold her for her fighting, but it in a loving manner.  Also, it is usually Maki who is scolding the Wildcats for their reckless behavior; so, in some ways, it must be a relief to be on the receiving end of that equation. There are not too many people who would have the guts to criticize Maki. There is also nice moment where the two of them share a bottle of saki; her uncle enjoys it, but Maki can’t stand the stuff and makes a sour face after tasting it.  It is a minor moment, but it does a lot to humanize the character. 

Shihomi's acting can be a bit inconsistent at times (this isn’t too surprising as she was still a teenager when she made this movie) but she really throws herself into the action scenes. This movie was made in era when filmmakers had a total disregard for the actors’ safety, which means that Shihomi did most of her own stunts.  She does incredibly well in the non-dialogue scenes – she is especially good with body language. She doesn't need to know to speak, because we can tell how Maki is feeling by her posture and the ferocity in her eyes. She would have been a terrific silent actress.

However, while Maki is a compelling protagonist, the most interesting character is Takako. She begins the movie antagonistic towards Maki but by the movie’s end she turns into an ally.  When she sees the Wildcats in their drugged out, whored out state – she is appalled. Sure, she wanted to teach them a lesson, but this is going too far. Later, when she goes to Eto for advice, she tells him, “I’m scared of all the things I’ve done.”  The only advice Eto gives to Takako is that she needs to help free the Wildcats, and he offers to help.  That plan quickly gets tossed out the window when they are ambushed by Daimon’s men. Eto is greatly outnumbered, but he does manage to save Takako from being raped by Daimon.  He buys her enough time so she can escape and contact Maki.

Takako visits Maki in the girl’s juvenile hall and not only volunteers to testify on Maki’s behalf but offers to pay her way out of jail, as well. Maki is too stubborn to accept Takako’s generous offer and is determined to get out of jail her own way. It’s only when Takako informs her of the fate that has befallen the Wildcats that Maki is stirred into action. Later, Takako helps a beaten-up Eto escape from his prison cell (in the basement of Daimon’s headquarters) by dropping her hair pin on the floor next to him, so he can pick the lock. The final straw for Takako is when Daimon has her father murdered. Daimon wants to become an official partner in Ebihara’s restaurants and wants to marry Takako, but Ebihara shoots down both suggestions.  This doesn’t sit well with Daimon, and he has Ebihara murdered in a car explosion. 

 Unfortunately, Takako’s payoff is underwhelming: the filmmakers lead you to believe that she is going to murder Daimon; she has agreed to marry him as a pretense to get him alone, so she can kill him with the knife she has packed in her suitcase. Instead, Takako gets sidelined at the end (she ends up killing the woman who betrayed her father) and it is Maki that kills Daimon.  It would have been, emotionally, a much more satisfying ending if Takako killed Daimon; not to mention it would have completed her character arc. The film also sets up a potential romance between Eto and Takako – they are both troubled characters who want to atone for their past sins.  This subplot gets quickly abandoned as the rest of the movie is more focused on Maki’s escape from the juvenile hall and revenge.  I was surprised to learn that the actress Misa Ohara only has two acting credits (according to IMDB) because she gives an effective performance as the guilt-ridden Takako. It’s the best performance in the movie.

Eto is another interesting character.  He is initially antagonistic towards Maki, but he always treats her with respect and behaves in an honorable manner. In the beginning of the movie, the Wildcats encounter a naked woman running through the streets and take her under their wing.  It is revealed that the woman is Momoe, a stripper who dances at a club owned by the Daimon Group. Maki and friends confront the owner of the strip club, and all out brawl breaks out. It begins in the green room and eventually spills out onto the catwalk. The men in the audience believe this is part of the act and cheer on enthusiastically. This angers Daimon and he sends his goons to bring the stripper back. They confront the Wildcats in an empty swimming pool (where the Wildcats are training) and Eto, wanting to avoid a bloodbath) suggests that Maki and he fight it out – whoever wins will get Momoe. However, when Daimon’s goons go behind his back and try to grab Momoe, Eto is appalled, gives the offenders a good slap down, apologizes to Maki and tells her to take Momoe. Later, when Takako asks Eto to help get her revenge on the Wildcats, he declines and tells her he doesn’t want to get involved in a catfight.  It also interesting to note that Eto is only person who beats Maki in a fair fight; before their fight is broke up by the police, Eto is clearly winning.  Tatsuya Nanjo brings a great physicality to the role of Eto; you genuinely believe he could take on an entire army. There is a tragic element to his performance; to atone for his violent past, Eto has vowed never to live a normal life.  He could potentially have a happy future with either Maki, or Takako, but he just won’t allow himself to let go.

It often feels like 13 Steps of Maki is the middle chapter in a trilogy; it is set up early on that Maki has a long-lost brother and the only time we see him is in a flashback (this allowed the filmmakers to shoehorn in a cameo by Sonny Chiba). It was Maki’s brother who taught her to fight and the way he is set up, you are expecting him to make an appearance at the end to help his beleaguered sister. It doesn’t happen. In fact, after Chiba’s cameo, the long-lost brother subplot is discarded. The fates of the Wildcats and Takako are left ambiguous – the last time the Wildcats are shown, they are still drugged out of their minds while engaging in acts of prostitution.  The last time we see Takako, she is standing on the stairway, traumatized by the aftermath of the bloodbath caused by Maki.  My initially thought was that the movie would end with Takako joining the Wildcats (and then the follow up film could center around Maki and Takako whipping the Wildcats back into shape), instead it ends with Maki, in tears, running on the beach.  The movie ends so abruptly that it leaves you asking questions.  

The second half of the movie is your standard “women behind bars” movie; the warden is in cahoots with Daimon and puts her in the same cell with gang members that have a grudge against her.  There is a hierarchy in the system: the girls get their orders from an inmate known as “The Boss”, who gets her orders from the warden, who, in turn, gets his order from Daimon. There are a couple attempts on Maki’s life – the most colorful one is a woman tries to strangle Maki with her long hair.  The Boss eventually challenges Maki to a duel, and Maki thoroughly beats her. This wins her the respect of The Boss and the other inmates, and they help Maki escape (by forming a human pyramid so Maki can crawl over the wall).  It checks all the boxes of the “Woman Behind Bars” genre: a corrupt warden, female nudity, a torture scene, over the top violence, and an escape; though, it avoids the gratuitous lesbian sex scene. It is not groundbreaking, but it is well done.

Etsuko Shihomi was a busy actress from the 70s to the mid-80s, but then retired from acting in 1986.  Sonny Chiba co-starred in a good chunk of those movies (it’s not surprising, considering he was kind of mentor towards her).   It was also around the time of 13 Steps of Maki that Shihomi starred in the Sister Street Fighter series. While those movies are entertaining, they’re not as swiftly paced as 13 Steps of Maki.

13 Steps of Maki is a flawed movie, but it also incredibly entertaining. It moves at a fast pace and never wears out its welcome (it’s only 78 minutes long). It’s full of surprises and has an energetic young cast. It is way better than most modern Hollywood action movies, because, unlike most modern actors, Shihomi actually studied martial arts. Compare Shihomi’s fight scenes to Daisy Ridley’s in the Disney Star Wars trilogy, and you will notice a huge disparity between the two of them: Shihomi looks like a genuine warrior while Ridley looks awkward swinging around her lightsaber.

Cast: Etsuko Shihomi (Maki Hyuga), Misa Ohara (Takako Ebihara), Hiroshi Nawa (Ryunosuke Daimon), Tatsuya Nanjo (Tetsuya Eto), Hiroshi Kondo (Taizo Ebihara), Shin’ichi (Sonny) Chiba (Kenichi Hyuga), Koji Fujiyama (Kuwata), Hideo Murota (Warden Akae), Meika Seri (Okyo Kushimaki).

Director: Makoto Naito
Writers: Ikki Kajiwara (comic), Masaaki Sato (comic), Takeo Kaneko (screenplay), Makoto Naito (screenplay).
Running Time: 78 minutes.

An Invitation From Ghost Theater (2015)

Series Directors: Futoshi Sato, Ryuta Miyake, Hideo Nakata, Hirohisa Sasaki, Go Kinomoto.
Series cast:  Yuika Shima, Yui Yokoyama, Nana Okada, Matsuri Hashimoto, Anne Iriyama, Misato Morita,
Rena Kato, Seira Maeda, Nao Furuhata, Kaori Shiina, Ikumi Nakano, Yui Oguri, Rie Kitahara, Yoko Okamura, Kokora Morita, Mion Mukaichi, Juri Takahashi, Makiko Watanabe, Yuria Kizaki, Kaito Takamura,  Haruka Shimazaki, Riho Takada, Rin Asuka, Rika Adachi, Keira Machida, Sawa Nimura, Toshihito Kokubo,  Mantaro Koichi, Hisako Ohkata, Motoki Ochiai, Anri Mihama.

In my Female Prisoner Scorpion review I talked about how I had been a Japanese Cinema kick, so out of curiosity I decided to check out a few Japanese TV series, most notably Ultra-Man, and the subject of today’s review, An Invitation from Ghost Theater, a horror anthology series.  An Invitation from Ghost Theater (Gekijorei karano Syotaijo) is ten episodes long, and each episodes features a young female protagonist who has an encounter with the supernatural (which usually doesn’t end well).  It should be noted that most of the main actresses were former members of the Japanese girl group AKB48.

Like most anthology series, Ghost Theater is a mixed bag – the stories range from irritating [most notably the 4^th entry, The Rotten (Fuhai)] to mediocre [the first episode, Burial (Maiso)] to effective [Auditory Hallucination (Gentyo), The Return (Kaiki), The Yearning (Syokei), and Eternity (Eien)].
The second half of the season is far more effective than the first. Ghost Theater often plays like a Japanese version of Alfred Hitchcock Presents; each episode opens with an introduction by actor Montaro Koichi and the ends with him wrapping up the story. The acting is all over the place, as well; this isn’t too surprising considering that many of these actresses were in their teens and still wet behind the ears. It doesn’t help that the characters are, for the most part, underwritten – each episode is about twenty-four minutes long, which means most of the focus is on setting up the horror.  It also doesn’t help that too often the characters make the dumbest decision; a lot of the misery they suffer could have easily been avoided if they exercised the most basic common sense. The better episodes tend to be the ones with some character development. 

My favorite episode of the series was Auditory Hallucination (Gentyo); it stars Rie Kitahara as pop singer, Aya Usami, who is promoting her upcoming album on a radio show.  As in the interview progresses, she begins to hear noises coming from headphones, which the producers initially chalk up to technical difficulties, but then she hears a car crash coming from her headphone and then a ghostly voice that keeps saying “I’m coming for you.”  The episode eventually ends with her being stalked throughout the radio station by the ghost of a former colleague (or is she?).  Rie Kitahara was a pop singer in real life, so she is effectively cast in the lead role. Her character Aya has such a pleasant demeanor that, at first, it is a mystery as to why she is being stalked by a ghost. If there is one gripe I have with the episode; I think it would have been more effective had it been more ambiguous – she Aya really being haunted by a ghost, or it is all in her head; a manifestation of a guilty conscience.  This episode effectively rachets up the tension; Aya initially chalks up the car crash and ghostly voice as a prank, but as they intensify, she begins to slowly lose all grip on reality.

The Rotten is the lowlight of the series. Rena Kato stars as a popular girl, Suzuka (who is also a teen model) who is being followed around by the school dweeb, Natsumi (Seira Maeda). The two of them used to be friends, but Suzuka would rather forget about that.  In a grisly turn of events, Suzuka accidentally kills Natsumi, and things take a turn for the worse when Natsumi comes back as a zombie.  This episode is largely played for laughs; there is even a scene where Suzuka gives the decaying Natsumi a makeover. The problem is the acting far more grating than funny; it is also hard to sympathize with Natsumi because she comes off as creepy. We’re supposed to think Suzuka is cold for brushing off her childhood friend, but given Natsumi’s behavior, maybe she was justified in cutting all ties. 

The most famous name involved with the series is the horror director Hideo Nakata.  He directed the first episode (Burial) and the final episode (Eternal). The first episode is a forgettable entry where the characters make the dumbest decisions imaginable, and blatantly steals the ending to The Vanishing.  Eternal is a creepy episode about a young housekeeper who finds herself the object of affection of an evil boy. It’s an episode that does a great job of building sympathy for the main character, Yuri (Yuria Kizaki) – she’s in a passionless relationship with her boyfriend, who is more interested in playing games on his phone than having a conversation with his girlfriend. When she tries to get intimate with him, he rebukes her (he complains that she is too sweaty).  Therefore, it’s not too surprising she is touched by the warm welcome she is giving by Shota and his grandmother.  When Shota asks Yuri to marry him, she initially chalks it up to a child’s crush.  As the episode progresses, Shota becomes increasingly more possessive and sinister. This episode epitomizes the phrase, "No good deed goes unpunished."  It’s an effective thriller and right up there with Nakata’s better work.

These two episodes also perfectly sum up Nakata’s career; he directed a couple of genuine classics (The Ring, Dark Water) but most of his filmography is forgettable (Sadako, The Ring Two, and a few laughable erotic thrillers, like The Woman Who Keeps a Murderer).  After the success of The Ring and Dark Water, he went into full cruise control mode (hoping his name would be enough to sell the movie). It’s a shame because he had great potential as a filmmaker. 

An Invitation from Ghost Theater is such an obscure show that it was difficult to find material surrounding this show; most of my information came from the blog, Children of Sadako. This is rather a shame, because while the show is a mixed bag it is still worth checking out; especially for the final four episodes. If you ever have a free afternoon, I recommend you check it out. 

Female Prisoner Scorpion Quadrilogy (1972-1973)

(WARNING: This review contains spoilers) I have recently been on a Japanese Cinema kick – it started after seeing Godzilla Minus One in the theatres and is still going strong two months later. I have watched The Gamera series; A bunch of Ishiro Honda films (The H-Man, Matango, Battle In Outer Space, Atragon), The Bloodthirsty trilogy (The Vampire Doll, Lake of Dracula, Evil of Dracula), The Ring series, Dark Water, Lady Snowblood, and the subject of today’s review, the Female Prisoner Scorpion Quadrilogy. Throughout the 70s (and even into the 80s), “women behind bars” was a popular subgenre of movies that was produced predominantly by B studios. These movies are a prime example of exploitation cinema (Japan has a specific name for this genre of film, Pink): they often featured lots of female nudity, violence, gratuitous sex scenes, and the occasional lesbian scene thrown in for good measure. It isn’t too surprising that Toei (Japan’s equivalent to American International Pictures) eventually got into the act. In 1972 and 1973, Toei produced the Female Prisoner Scorpion Quadrilogy; which follows the exploits of the unflappable convict Nami Matsushima (AKA: The Scorpion). These four movies basically follow the formula of your average “women behind bars” film, but what separates these four films from the rest is the often-surrealistic direction and the star of the series, Meiko Kaji.

 Nami Matsushima is the female counterpart to Clint Eastwood’s “The Man with No Name” character; they only speak when absolutely necessary (in the second entry, Jailhouse 41, Matsu has only two lines of dialogue). In Nami’s case, you always sense she is sizing up the people around her, trying to determine if they can be trusted, or looking for a potential weakness she can exploit. She patiently waits for the ideal moment to strike and when she does, it’s usually in a stealth-like manner. After she breaks out of prison, she stalks the streets of Tokyo in a black trench coat and black sunhat (looking like death incarnate) and picks off her unsuspecting prey one by one.

There are two notable differences between Nami and “The Man With No Name”: In the first movie, we are shown Nami’s backstory while “The Man with No Name” remains a completely mystery. Occasionally, Nami will let her mask slip and we see her more vulnerable side. She will occasionally cry (though usually when no one else is around, Nami would never give her enemies the satisfaction of seeing her tear up). In the fourth film, she becomes romantically involved with would be anarchist, Kudo. “The Man With No Name” is an asexual character; he is not the least bit interested in sex.

Nami, on the other hand, has no qualms about using sex for own benefit. In the first film, the sadistic warden puts Kito (an undercover cop) into solitary confinement with Nami to spy on her. Nami is immediately wise to this ruse but also senses that Kito is attracted to her and seduces the naïve Kito. She works up Kito to the point of arousal and then pulls away; this leaves Kito begging Matsu for more, but she is denied the pleasure. The next day when Kito is reporting to the warden, she keeps begging him to put her back in solitary confinement; the warden puts two and two together, strips down Kito, sees that her body is covered with lipstick, and promptly dismisses the hysterical officer. This scene has two functions: its main function, of course, is to titillate the audience – Kito is completely stripped naked by Nami, and the camera lingers on her nude body for quite some time. However, it also gives us an insight into Nami’s character – she discovers Kito’s weakness and uses it to discredit her. This scene also contributes to the movie’s surreal quality – the idea that Kito would have lipstick all her body is ludicrous. For starters, it is unlikely the prison would allow Nami to wear lipstick, especially if she was in solitary confinement. This is less about realism and more about visually depicting Kito's state of mind - she  is so obsessed with Nami that, instead of washing the lipstick off, she decides to leave it on her body as a memento of their short-lived fling. 

 Nami can often be reckless when it comes to her revenge, and it often results in collateral damage. In 701’s Grudge Song, Kudo and Nami break into the apartment of their common enemy, Detective Kodoma, and bound and gag his pregnant wife. They are hoping to ambush the detective, but when he fails to show up, they try to strong arm information out of her, and she ends up falling to her death as result of their carelessness.

In the second film, Jailhouse 41, Nami and six other inmates escape from prison and end up hijacking a bus full of sightseers. Nami holds the driver at knifepoint, while her fellow inmates start terrorizing the passengers on the bus. At first, their wrath is justified, as they are initially taunting three men who are responsible for rape and murder of Rose, the youngest member of the gang, but then they target two women on the bus (who had nothing to with Rose’s death) by stripping of their clothes and forcing them to dance. The most sadistic member of the gang, Oba, sticks her shotgun into an old man’s crotch and forces him to shout “Banzai!” It’s pretty evident that Nami is disgusted by their actions but also doesn’t want to get involved (mainly because she is outnumbered). Oba and the gang betray Nami when, after they come across a barricade, throw Nami off the bus to create a distraction. Later, the bus is cornered by law enforcement, and the warden sends Nami into to check out the scene. She exchanges a few words with Oba and then walks back to the warden. When he asks her how the hostages are doing, she lies and says they are all dead. The police open fire on the bus and end up killing the inmates (except Oba who is mortally wounded) but it’s also likely that a few of the passengers were killed as well. Nami is so hell bent on getting revenge on her betrayers (and making the police look foolish) that she is willing to risk the lives of innocent civilians. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. 

The best thing that Quadrilogy has going for it is Meiko Kaji in the title role. Kaji is an extremely interesting actress; she is striking beautiful, to be sure, but she has a total command of the screen. In comparison, I recently watched the B-movie, OneChanbara: Bikini Samurai Squad, and while the lead actress in that movie, Eri Otoguri, is also extremely attractive (she looks great in a bikini) she completely lacks the screen presence that Kaji displays here. Meiko Kaji is one of those rare actresses who can say a lot by doing very little: there is a moment in the fourth film, 701’s Grudge Song, where Kudo is talking to Nami and she flashes him a tiny smile; it is very subtle, but it speaks volumes about Nami’s state of mind – she is cautiously optimistic. She also brings a great deal of intensity to the role; when Nami dons the black trench coat and sunhat, you know she means business and no one is going to stand in her way.

In Beast Stable, we get a better look at Nami’s more sensitive side – there is a scene where she has an emotional breakdown and starts to cry (again, no one is around to witness it). Nami has been caught by the yakuza and is trapped in a cage with ravens. This isn’t what causes the breakdown rather, it’s the sight of the prostitute, Shinobu, who is lying on the floor next to Nami. Shinobu was six months pregnant and was forced to get an abortion by her madame, Katsu. Katsu indifferently tosses the distraught Shinobu in the same room as Nami. The sight of Shinobu crying out in pain while still covered in blood is too much for Nami and she can't hold back her tears. However, she quickly recovers and forms a plan to get out of her makeshift prison. 

 It would a be easy to dismiss Kaji as a one note actress (it was during this time she played a similar character in Lady Snowblood) but prior to Female Prisoner Scorpion series, she starred in the Stray Cat Rock series, and she often played characters who the polar opposite of Nima Matsushima; in Wild Jumbo, she plays the delinquent C-ko, and not only does her character say a lot, but she manages to inject humor into her performance. It is my opinion that Meiko Kaji could have been an international star if she had sought it out. I could totally see Meiko Kaji teaming up with Clint Eastwood in a western; two drifters who reluctantly team up to take out a common enemy. Oh well!!! Thankfully, Meiko Kaji has not been lost to history; she has become a cult actress, and The Female Prisoner Scorpion series and Lady Snowblood were two of the main inspirations for Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill movies. On top of being a great actress, she was also an accomplished singer (she sings the theme song in all four Female Prisoner Scorpion movies, as well as theme song to Lady Snowblood; both of which appears on the Kill Bill soundtrack). 

 The other thing that distinguishes the Female Prisoner Scorpion (at the least the first three films) is its surreal approach to the material. The first three movies were directed by Shunya Ito, and he definitely has an imaginative style. #701’s Grudge Song was directed by Yasuharu Hasebe and it’s the weakest out of the series because it is the most routine. 

 The first indication that this is not going to be your average “Woman behind Bars” movie is the flashback in the first movie. In a more conventional movie, the flashback would be signified with the use of a cloudy filter and distorted images, but director Ito opts for a more surrealistic approach – there is no clear transition between scenes but rather they seem to bleed into one another. For instance, the flashback begins with Nami and her then boyfriend, Detective Sugimi, making love in spacious, empty room. The camera then pans up to the back wall of the room and then silhouettes of people sitting at tables appear on the wall, then the lights go up and we are in a nightclub. Nami has been sent by Sugimi to spy on a drug smuggling ring, but her cover is blown, and she is raped by a several drug dealers. It’s only after she is raped that Sugimi arrives on the scene and makes the arrest; he gloats over his arrest while ignoring Nami’s current state. However, it turns out that this whole bust was just a pretext to obtain a bribe from the yakuza. He sold Nami out to a pack of wolves. We also get a rather clever transition from the nightclub to the office of the yakuza boss; Sugimi busts opens a safe that contains the drugs and then the back wall does a 360 spin and next thing know, Sugimi is standing next to the desk of the yakuza boss, counting his bribe money. Through the entirety of this scene, Nami is lying in the foreground of the shot.  

In the next scene, Nami tries to kill Sugimi outside police quarters, in broad daylight, she is still wearing the torn-up dress that she was raped in. Remember, this is a flashback told from Nami’s point of view, so it’s not an accurate telling of what happened, but rather represents Nami’s state of mind – after being raped, Nami feels exposed to the world. 

 Later, there is a fight scene between Nami and fellow inmate, Masaki. However, the lighting, staging and make up of this scene seems more fitting for a horror movie than an action film. The character of Masaki is made up like The Bride of Frankenstein and seems to glide across the room (it’s a scene that anticipates Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead trilogy). The scene ends when Masaki accidentally stabs the warden in eye with a shard of glasses (she is aiming for Nami, who ducks out of the way at the last second). This, naturally, enrages the warden and he strangles Masaki to death.

The second film, Jailhouse 41, has a scene where each of the inmates' backstory is explained to the audience, but it is done through song rather than dialogue. An offscreen voice, accompanied by a biwa, sings in detail how each woman wound up in prison. This scene begins with a long shot; the seven women are sitting middle of the frame, in front of black background, while an old woman appears to hover over them in the background. They are sitting in front of a fire - this scene has very mystical quality to it. It is also done in a minimalistic manner – when each individual woman's story being told, she is sitting in front of black background and the camera slowly zooms in on her. 

The third film, Beast Stable, has another scene that is straight out of a horror movie – at the beginning of the movie, Nami manages to escape a police officer who has handcuffed her by hacking off his arm. While she is free, she is still handcuffed to a severed arm. After the prostitute Yuki has finished with a client, she hears noises coming from the cemetery and noticed Nami crouched behind a headstone, biting on the severed arm to free herself from the handcuffs. It is a credit to the filmmakers and Meiko Kajis performance that Nami looks ghoulish in this scene – she could easily be an extra from Night of the Living Dead.

The closest thing we get to surrealism in the fourth movie is the final confrontation between Nami and Detective Kodoma; he has broken out of prison so he can hang her on his own makeshift galley. The set (intentionally) looks fake, with a fake sky filled with fake grey clouds. However, the climax to this scene is poorly staged – Detective Kodoma puts Nami’s neck in the noose and kicks the chair out from under her; she manages to jump and grab onto the top beam of the galley, freeing herself in the process, Kodama fires a few shots at her with his gun but somehow misses, he stumbles on the trap door, his neck goes through the noose in the process, and he accidentally hangs himself. This scene happens so fast, and is accomplished with rapid cuts, that it is hard to figure out what happened. It’s rather anti-climactic.

While I have many positive things to say about the Female Prisoner Scorpion trappings, it isn’t exempt from the sleazy trappings that frequently popped in exploitation movies. It suffers from the attitude that was prevalent in grindhouse films – there is no such thing as bad nudity. In #701’s Grudge Song, there is a rather gratuitous rape scene. Detective Kodoma and the female warden express concern that Prison Guard Daiman is too soft on the prisoners and have her raped by a few police officers to shape her up - Kodoma blackmails her into going along with his plan for revenge. The problem with this scene is that it comes immediately after Daiman is seen taunting Nami as she scrubs the steps on the galley; Nami’s treatment of prisoner Akiko has turned Daiman against Nami. It’s more than likely Daiman would have gone along with his scheme without the rape. It has no bearing on the plot; it’s just an excuse to show an attractive woman naked. Beast Stable is probably the sleaziest film in the bunch (yet is still more entertaining than #701’s Grudge Song); in it Nami forms a friendship with the prostitute Yuki, who is also in an incestuous relationship with her mentally challenged brother. We get multiple sex scenes between the two and they are, appropriately, creepy. Yuki willingly offers up her body to brother as way of keeping him in check, she gets no pleasure from it – she just lies on floor still while his brother has his way with her. It should also note that I watched Beast Stable on the same night as Shogun’s Joy of Torture; another Toei movie that features a story of incest. What the hell, Toei? It should also be pointed out that Yuki is played by Yayoi Watanabe, who appears in three of the Female Prison Scorpion movies (she plays a different role in each film).  As Yuki, she gives a very effective performance; in her hands, Yuki comes across as a tragic heroine than a lowly prostitute.  

 Another interesting theme that pops up throughout the series is that the female prisoners are often as cruel and sadistic as the prisoner guards; in the first film, Katagiri, at the request of Sugimi, agrees to kill Nami in exchange for her freedom. However, she isn't foolish enough to take Nami on by herself, instead she turns the entire prison against Nami (by implying she is working with the guards). The women gang up on Nami, tie her up, hanging her up on the ceiling, and take turns beating up on her. It's only after Katagiri attempts to burn them all alive that they realize they have duped and turn on Katagiri. In the sequel, the six prisoner who escape with Nami torment an entire bus of sightseers and then betray Nami by throwing her to the police.

 Yet, there often moments of humanity scattered throughout the series. In Jailhouse 41, the escapee Rose is urinating by a lake and is spotted by two young boys. The two boys, with their juvenile minds, find sight of woman urinating hilarious, and Rose, taking no offense to the boy's amusement, laughs along with them and then exchanges a few pleasant words with them. Sadly, it's after this pleasant encounter that she runs into three slimy businessmen who raped and murder her. In Beast Stable Nami develops a bond with the Yuki; she is appalled by Yuki's incestuous relationship her brother, but she senses a kindred spirit - they both have been hurt by the people they loved. Later, when Nami is on the run and hiding in the sewers, Yuki finds her and gives her food and clean water to drink.

 Other than the sleazy visuals, the writing is heavily flawed – too much of Nami’s success is predicated on her enemies making dumb decisions. Detective Kodama, not content with the State hanging Nami, breaks her out of prison so he can enact his own personal revenge. If he had allowed the State to do their job, he would still be alive. In the first film, Sugimi has Nami cornered in the elevator, but rather than kill her decides to kiss her; she takes advantage of this opportunity by biting deeply into his lower lip, which results in copious amounts of blood squirting out.

 In #701’s Grudge Song, the romance between Nami and Kudo is forced; it’s hard to believe that someone as levelheaded as Nami would fall for an unhinged lunatic like Kudo. Hell, even their love scene is passionless; it feels like the filmmakers just wanted to get it out of the way and rushed through it.

Though, there is a great payoff to this relationship: the police capture Kudo and after hours of torture, finally get him to break once they bring out his mother; she shames him into revealing Nami’s location. This is second time that she has been betrayed by a man she has loved and after she disposes of Kudoma she goes after Kudo. She confronts him at the strip club he works at (he is a lighting technician). He is happy to see her and gives her a hug; while she is in his embrace, she stabs him with a knife. However, Kudo doesn’t begrudge Nami for this; he was fully anticipating it and dies peacefully.

 The Female Prisoner Scorpion movies are by no means cinematic masterpieces, but they are worth seeing for their compelling lead actress, Meiko Kaji, and their often-surrealistic visuals. If you are a fan of exploitation cinema and surrealism, then these films are probably up your alley. If you are the type of person whose cup of tea is Maid in Manhattan or Titanic, then say clear away.

 Credits 

Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (1972) Cast: Meiko Kaji (Nami Matsushima/Scorpion), Rie Yokoyama (Katagiri), Yayoi Watanabe (Yukiko Kida), Yoko Mihara (Masaki), Akemi Negishi (Otsuka), Keiko Kuni (Nemoto), Yumiko Katayama (Kito), Emi Jo (Morikawa), Isao Natsuyagi (Tsugio Sugimi), Fumio Watanabe (Warden Goda). Director: Shunya Ito Writers: Fumio Konami, Hiro Matsuda Running Time: 87 minutes

 Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41 (1972) Cast: Meiko Kaji (Nami Matsushima/Scorpion), Fumio Watanabe (Warden Goda), Kayoko Shiraishi (Oba), Yukie Kagawa (Tomiko Yasuki), Eiko Yanami (Harue), Hiroko Isayama (Asaka Noda), Kuniko Ishii (Rose Miyako), Yuki Aresa (Kimiyo Oikawa), Hideo Murota (Okizaki), Fudeko Tanaka (The Old Woman). Director: Shunya Ito Writers: Shunya Ito, Fumio Konami, Hiro Matsuda. Running Time: 90 minutes 

 Female Prisoner Scorpion: Beast Stable (1973) Cast: Meiko Kaji (Nami Matsushima/Scorpion), Yayoi Watanabe (Yuki), Mikio Narita (Detective Kondo), Reisen Lee (Katsu), Koji Nanbara (Sameshima), Takashi Fujika (Tanida), Tomoko Mayama (Shinobu). Director: Shunya Ito Writer: Hiro Matsuda Running Time: 87 minutes 

 Female Prisoner Scorpion: 701’s Grudge Song (1973) Cast: Meiko Kaji (Nami Matushima/ Scorpion), Masakazu Tamura (Teruo Kudo), Toshiyuki Hosokawa (Takeshia Kodoma), Yumi Kanei (Kinuyo Kodoma), Hiroshi Tsukata (Detective Hirose), Yayoi Watanabe (Midori), Sanae Nakahara (Akiko), Kaoru Kusuda (Prison director Nakasone), Akemi Negishi (Prison Guard Minamimura), Akiko Mori (Chief Guard Daimon), Junko Ando (Prison Guard Mazaki). Director: Yasuharu Hasebe Writers: Yasuharu Hasebe, Fumio Konami, Hiro Matsuda Running Time: 89 minutes.