Writing Analysis
Rejecting the Western Gaze — KPOP the Broadway Musical
The rushed but triumphant second act subverts anti-Asian stereotypes in the first
KPOP follows the manager and artists of RBY Entertainment Company as they prepare in Seoul for their big debut in America (at Circle in the Square in New York City, the stage hosting the actual musical we’re watching). We follow the company’s first and main star, MwE (the iconic Luna, formerly of f(x)), girl group RTMIS (pronounced “Artemis”), and boy group F8. (Ostensibly) helping the artists tell their story is director and documentarian Harry — the only fully White-passing cast member — with the help of an Asian cameraman.
The show cuts between dramatic scenes in the present, flashback scenes of MwE being recruited and trained as RBY’s first artist, and K-pop performances.
The musical opens with Ruby, the manager of RBY Company, rehearsing how to introduce the artists of her company. The cameraman’s point of view is reflected in the screens on stage. Harry stands off in the audience aisle giving cheerful, insistent directions.
But within the first few opening numbers, we see the central conflicts of each group.
- MwE, a well-oiled and reliable machine, “breaks.” She wants to perform her own songs, and not just the same old drabble.
- RTMIS (featuring Min, formerly of Miss A, and Bohyung, formerly of SPICA) is having trouble keeping up with Ruby’s standards; they bow their heads as she barks at them.
- F8 is fantastic, but the boys can’t seem to set aside their beef with Brad, the White-and-Asian (Wasian) black sheep to the “real Korean lads” of the group, led by Jun Hyuk (Kevin Woo, formerly of K-pop boy band U-KISS).
The first act was a slew of anti-Asian and anti-Korean stereotypes
CEO Ruby is both Dragon Lady (inscrutable, ruthless) and Tiger Mom (overly ambitious tyrant) to MwE, the object of her abusive rants and cooing praise. Ruby character is cartoonishly static: intensely crabby, scathing, and manipulative. The choice to code the character as a woman is suspicious in an industry where the top CEOs are almost exclusively men. The gender choice just seems too convenient for pushing the Dragon Lady and Tiger Mom stereotypes.
Juh Hyuk and the other “real Korean lads” are a bunch of bullies who seem to be motivated by race, following the insane “Asians are the most racist” deflection (and projection) that occurs to downplay horrific attacks against Asian people in America and elsewhere in the West. The Korean lads relentlessly pick on Brad for not following tradition, for not being to speak Korean, and for being the flippant, disrespectful newcomer.
Almost as a result of that, Brad gets the most attention (and affection) from Harry, who keeps shouting how he likes this guy for being “relatable,” “less formal,” “accessible,” more “human.” In scenes, Brad gets the most lines and is centered as hero underdog taking on a wall of sneering Korean men who insist on speaking Korean despite the fact that Brad and Harry don’t know Korean. In a typical Western fashion, the one character who has a drop of White blood is centered as the hero of a story situated firmly in Korea and Korean culture, while a whole cast of Korean boys suddenly become bullies and nameless, faceless, replaceable backdrops. In short, it’s a white savior story.
In one of the musical numbers most effective at storytelling, the boys perform a song called “한국 놈들” (“Korean Lads”). The Korean boys pick on Brad on stage through their choreography. They taunt him, saying they’re real Korean lads. Their point at him when they say “넌 나빠" (“You’re bad”), and Brad only ever says “I’m bad,” in English.
Harry loves it all. He pulls Brad aside to interview him. When he asks why he doesn’t seem to fit in, at first Brad suggests it’s because he has a lot of talent. Harry cuts him off and asks why they treat him like “fungus underneath their toes.” After a thoughtful pause, Brad says he’s used to bullying. Instead of turning on his teammates, he recalls when he brought mackeral stew to class and got teased, then went home to tell his mother he hates her. “Why can’t you pack me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” He shares how he’s used to not fitting in as White, Asian, or other. Then he gets a solo song to coo over it.
RTIMS are a bunch of Barbie dolls, having no life, thoughts, or emotions of their own. I don’t recall a single dramatic scene where they have lines beyond apologizing to Ruby as they back up bowing. Their musical numbers seem almost unrelated to the plot and don’t seem to advance any character work (though, to be fair, getting to see K-pop performances was exactly why I was in the audience).
MwE’s storyline seems to exist exclusively to harp on the “dark side of K-pop,” referring to so-called “slave contracts” where, starting from a young age, recruits are monitored strictly. In the present, MwE writes her own songs and presents them to her boyfriend, Juny. He urges her to present her lovely tunes, “벙어리새” ( “Mute Bird”) and Phoenix (“불사조”). But she can’t seem to even fathom it, saying Ruby wouldn’t allow her. Ruby later confirms this, saying the two saddest words in English are “singer-songwriter.”
In a flashback, we see a young thirteen-year-old MwE being drilled, told he was inadequate, asked how it feels knowing she’s embarrassing her parents. She begs for a break but Ruby and her instructor tell her no.
In perhaps the most haunting part of the musical, MwE performs “Wind-Up Doll” twice. During the first time, her face is strained. She’s clearly barely keeping it together. The resigned despair in her face reflects the disturbing nature of the lyrics: “Watch me wind up,” “Gonna be your wind-up doll.” We’re keenly reminded by her reluctant movements that she’s only thirteen-years old in this flashback, dancing along to a song that dehumanizes and sexualizes her at the same time.
For the second performance, the lights dim and the spotlight snaps on. Music blares. Like some sort of horror movie, MwE’s face lights up, her movements become perky. She performs the song as it would be on stage. Her performance is no different from actual K-pop performances. Her uncanny perfection seems like a deliberate dig at actress Luna’s own past, a way for her to reveal to us what went into every smile she gave us on stage performing as part of SM Entertainment’s girl group f(x).
The show reveals a real issue, an open secret that haunts Koreans and Korean K-pop fans in particular. Yet given the setting — we are watching the musical on Broadway in New York City, and this scene in particular was mostly in English — examining the dark side of K-pop feels less like genuine concern for the artists and more like smug, self-satisfied poo-pooing.
Western media is insistent on tearing down the global phenomenon. Sometimes it feels like we barely got to marvel at how K-pop penetrated cultural barriers and overcame rampant anti-Asian racism — indeed, might be largely responsible for mitigating anti-Asian racism — before international fans and spectators started picking at loose threads, overplaying issues small or large, real or blown out of proportion.
The camera loves this drama, too. Harry keeps zooming in and sending his cameraman back to the dressing room to covertly record tense conversations between MwE and Ruby.
…given the setting …in New York City…in English — examining the dark side of K-pop feels less like genuine concern for the artists and more like smug, self-satisfied poo-pooing.
The second act points the camera back at the White American director instigating conflict
While filming a performance, the “real Korean lads” feel pushed over the edge when they realize the cameraman is only recording Brad. Moreover, the cameraman is so intent on catching Brad’s every move that he completely disregards the other members’ space. He doesn’t move out of their way. They trip over him.
Jun Hyuk cuts off the music and yells at Harry, Brad, and the cameramen in in Korean, telling they he sees what they’re doing. He turns on Brad, then back to his members for support. But for each of his criticisms, the other boys finally voice their dissent. When Jun Hyuk criticizes Brad for not even being able to speak Korean, one of the other boys confesses his Korean isn’t perfect either. When Jun Hyuk says Brad didn’t grow up in Korea, one of the others confesses he’s from Queens — to which another boy says with a smile, “Really? Me, too.” Jun Hyuk keeps going, but the others just want to dance, to sing, to get back to their art. They say they get the point — that Brad has a ways to go. But they point out the real issue: they’re all still hurt by Leo being thrown out, the person Brad replaced.
Finally Jun Hyuk confesses what’s really bothering him: Brad got to cut in line. The rest of them, including Leo, had been training together since they were kids. They sacrificed so much — as hinted by MwE’s own flashbacks. Brad not only got in last-minute, but he gets all the spotlight. It’s so easy for him. In short, Brad was right. They envy him because he has a lot to offer.
Harry interjects. “Can someone translate that?”
Brad turns on Harry. “No. No one has to translate that. Why don’t you learn Korean?”
They realize the cameraman tripping them up was only following instructions from Harry. They turn the camera on him off stage. Harry insists he’s only trying to “humanize” them.
They ask him to get out.
Despite all his insistence he’s only trying to humanize these K-pop stars — these Koreans — Harry ignores one of the most human moments in the musical.
In the second act, RTIMS finally gets to speak. We catch the girls slouching during a rare moment of respite while Ruby and Luna run off to the back to fight again. The girls of RTIMS quarrel amongst themselves. One of them really wants to keep practicing. The others are mostly checked out. They’re feeling dejected, checked-out, and just plain exhausted.
But the first girl reminds them that despite the difficulties, she’s here for a reason. The girls start sharing: one wanted to inspire her sister. One wanted to inspire other girls like her. One felt inspired, empowered when she was on stage. One felt like the world didn’t make sense until she found music.
One starts singing, and the others join. Slowly, they run the lines over and over, progressing incrementally as they give each other notes in a collaborative fashion. Together, they build something beautiful.
Harry hasn’t given up. He sends the cameraman backstage to covertly record the drama between MwE and Ruby. When the cameraman sneezes, Ruby and MwE realize their being recorded and chase him out, all the way out to the stage. They glare up at Harry standing amongst the audience. Finally, they realize he’s instigating their problems, going so far as to violate their privacy to catch dramatic moments. Ruby fires him.
But Harry can’t leave without saying the last word: “I would have made you human.” Harry’s character speaks to how even as the West seems fascinated by K-pop, the artists are often seen as machines, unrelatable, and inhuman. Instead of being applauded for their hard work, they seem to be scoffed at for working too hard. Instead of staying open to a new style of lyrics, music, dance, and costume, Western media and mainstream audiences seem to cringe at cheesy lyrics, shake their heads at dramatic EDM or ballads, sneer at saccharine dance moves, and scoff at tacky costumes. K-pop is something to be exploited for views and clicks, not to be integrated into civilized, superior Western, American society. This is to say nothing of the international K-pop fans who have often faced the brunt of Western scorn and straight up racism along with their K-pop stars.
Bye, Harry.
MwE and Ruby have a heart-to-heart where Ruby confesses she only pushes MwE because she believes in her. Given such little character development up until now, it’s a bit hard to believe her sincerity — if you don’t have Asian parents. But a lot of the audience might recognize how criticism is considered a love language by certain parents. How pushing you is a sign of faith in your abilities, as well as a way to help you develop armor to deal with the real world. Still, it feels like too little too late. Though, they do end up in New York.
Finally, RBY Entertainment Company ends up in the Circle in the Square, Manhattan New York. Ruby takes the stage to say they’re trying something very special tonight — no cameras. We finally get to see the artists not through a Western lens, but up close and personal, for who they are.
She talks about a new artist , one she really believes in — then introduces MwE by her Korean name. MwE sings her heartfelt song, “Phoenix” (불사조). RTMIS perform their triumphant girl-power anthem “Supergoddess” (슈퍼가디스), complete with choreography that evokes drawing a bow and releasing. They also perform the effervescent “Gin & Tonic” (진 앤 토닉) more reminiscent of TWICE’s feel-good aesthetic. F8 take the stage with their crooning “Meant 2 B,” reminding everyone— as Jun Hyuk, Brad, and the others share meaningful glances — that we’re all meant to be together, celebrating our differences. Then they perform “흔들어” (Shake It), a dance tune a la SuperM which legitimately got the crowd dancing. Finally, they all come together to perform “Blast Off” (발사).
Final impressions
The anti-Asian and anti-Korean stereotypes came off a bit too strong in the first act to the point where I almost considered leaving. I’m glad I stayed and gave the musical a chance to subvert my expectations and imagine a more triumphant future for K-pop in the West, trusting audiences to remove that intermediate lens and see K-pop for themselves. At the same time, some of the issues mentioned in the musical — dark side, clique-ey-ness — are legitimate and worth airing, but the musical warned us that not everything is what it seems. There’s more to meets the eye — sometimes divisions might be driven by legitimate hurt, even if they appear along demographic lines. Sometimes all the suffering isn’t completely pointless.
I do think a lot of the subversion happens late in the musical and therefore feels rushed. It seems like a major area of improvement is the sheer number of musical acts: they’re all great — as songs. But they don’t do nearly enough for storytelling save for a few examples I shared above. If the musical could find a way to remove songs to work on the character development, replace them with more story-oriented songs, or perhaps make clearer connections between the book (non-musical script) and the lyrics (musical scripts), that would help the musical feel more cohesive.
Overall, I really enjoyed the musical and would highly recommend it to K-pop fans from all over the world. It raises very interesting questions of identity relative to yourself, your peers, Korean culture, and Western culture.
