Pop Star Academy: KATSEYE

This is John Marrs' Family experiment in reality. So freaking scary and upsetting. I know that this is not a new thing in Korea, but that does not make it any less freaked out.

A testimony to the extreme capitalism we're in right now.

As we're no longer happy with adults doing weird stuff on tv, we now need young girls selling overly sexualised behaviour on screen. Which is astounding but also kind of spooky, as they become a commodity while also something young girls across the globe aspire to copying.

On the show, the girls all have language for emotions they have, without the actual knowledge of those emotions, as they're too young and influenced by social media to do other than copy what they hear online. It's not their fault; it's what they've learnt. And they need to know in order to be on this kind of show. So all in all, the reality show taken to an extreme, now with teenagers in the main cast.

Is that really the best humanity can do?

I prefer survival/talent reality shows when they focus on the hard work of their participant so this one really hits the spot. There's a refreshing lack of drama but a huge focus on how difficult and full of sacrifice the K-pop Industry is. It does feel unfair sometimes since the participants are really young and were clearly not prepared for how difficult it would be. I would still appreciate more complete performances, it was always like a teaser of them and I have no interest in checking the full performance on the internet.

I appreciate how honest the production was there, they told you right on camera that if they did this is because it would work well with the audience even if it seemed unfair.

Speaking of production some of the managers always looked like on the edge of a burn-out, they don't really talk about that but you can feel how tiresome it was for the multiple managers there.

I won't follow the final band, K-pop is not my thing but they definitely deserve a career for their talent and dedication.

This series amounts to an 8 episode advertisement for a new global K-Pop band. The documentary makers retain some integrity for not shying away completely from the cruelty of the process the girls were put through, but ultimately they seem to have made several editorial decisions intended to soften those cruel edges.

The filmmakers can't be blamed for the awful management of the project at the heart of the show, but you do detect a deliberate decision to refrain from tarnishing the image of HYBE and Geffen Records too much (the music megacorps behind what can only be describe as an extended theatre of cruelty performance), lest Netflix not be invited back for another season.

The show follows an international group of very young women (14-21), as they're put through a two year training camp for what they think will be an internal selection process by the record label to create a new 'global' k-pop group, only to discover that they've signed up to a 'survivor show' at the end of it to decide the final members of the band. A 'survivor show' is the K-Pop version of the old TV pop talent shows from the west like 'Popstars' franchise - but conspicously more sinister.

Many of the girls come from clearly disenfranchised backgrounds (including one girl who is a refugee), however little is made of this by the producers, who give everyone's backstory a few glossy unsentimental minutes. Only one of the girls gets a huge amount of backstory - and even then it's all very superficial.

Nothing is explained in regards to income for the girls, we don't know if they're being paid during this years long process (some of the girls mention having no money as they pack their hopes and dreams into suitcases after being ejected from the program).

We also never linger over what these very young girls are giving up to be here, one girl mentions taking her place as a trainee has prevented her from graduating high school - but this is treated as nothing more than a funny anecdote, and no further enquiries are made.

Equally, a discussion between the girls about being away from home - in which one girl admits not being able to speak to her family for weeks - simply drifts by onscreen, unexplored.

Perhaps the most obvious of these attempts to shield HYBE and Geffen Records from public scrutiny regarding the cruelty of the process, comes at the expense of what would otherwise be a rather critical scene for a show like this.

Once the girls have made it to the 'public' survivor show part of the process, they take part in three elimination rounds which are judged partially (and it is only very partially) by members of the public.

The elimination scene for the first round is heartbreaking, the second elimination scene is harrowing, and the third elimination scene was presumably so brazenly vicious that it's given the 'off screen death' treatment, where we skip from the girls arriving to hear whether or not they've wasted the last two years of their girlhood from a disembodied voice on a television screen, to a montage of the survivors tearfully calling their loved ones to report their Kpop dreams are still alive - giving strong disaster survivor vibes.

Yet there is a slightly less obvious, but none the less very telling detail in the documentary that belies the filmmakers obedience to the HYBE/Geffen machine - the lack of follow up.

Unlike other Netflix shows following a bunch of kids as they try to achieve their dreams in time limited settings (Cheer competitions, Basketball finals, Football drafts) - after the final 6 have been picked, and the credits start to roll - we do not get the usual 'where are they now' pre-credit closure snippets of the one's who didn't make it on the show. Indeed, it seems, that like the rest of the whole show, the ending is an exercise in minimisation and distraction - nudging the audience not to think about the brutality of the process, rather to just enjoy the shiny happy teens who've emerged victorious from a process none of them fully understood they were consenting to when they skipped over the small print in their application forms.

The access the producers had for the documentary could have been used for that most noble of documentary pursuits - making tangible change in the world. It would have taken barely any effort to turn their footage into an expose that could have led to mass calls for reform in an industry that consistently exploits minors.

Instead, hemmed in buy cowardice and perhaps corporate interest too, the filmmakers leave their audience with an uneasy sense of being complicit in an extended episode of emotional and financial abuse - without our concent, much like the girls featured in the show.

Taking young girls, lying to them, manipulating them and overworking them is crazy twisted. This does NOT paint the label or the executives that approved this project in a good light. Towards the end felt like the teachers were trying their best to damage-control the girls' mental healths in the face of the horrible executive decision-making. Feels like I'm watching some kind of twisted social experiment - barely feels legal to treat anyone like this, let alone under 18's. I didn't care at all about who ended up in the group by the end and just felt bad all round for all of the girls that were subjected to 2 YEARS of this. This is a lesson on how NOT to build a lasting global pop group.

A group of talented but naive hopefuls from around the world consent to giving away up to two years of their life to a multinational music conglomeration intent on melding them into an international, cohesive, KPop-style girl group. Though contracts and NDAs were signed by all, apparently not a single participant bothered to have an attorney look over the contracts or have them explained. Apparently, they each took the promise of, "Baby, I'm gonna make you a STAR!" at face value and didn't consider the potential price that each would have to pay. Have they never been taught that "All that glitters is not gold," or the clear winner when you make a deal to "sell your soul"?

Besides the giant spiderweb these ingenues become ensnared within, I was immediately struck by the lack of professionalism of (what I call) "the camp counselors", particularly the woman in charge, who actually wept with emotion when speaking to the initial group of 14 hopefuls. Her way of speaking, with many of her declarations/statements are made with an upturn at the end, making each sound like questions. Her manner of presents herself in frumpy clothes, slumped posture, and offering little eye contact when communicating, doesn't inspire confidence in her abilities or authority, either. Her sister, the professional dancer (the "fiery" one), is far more self-assured and confident, and she deals with the girls with authority and clear(er) expectations.

We're given few details about the girls other than some carefully-curated backstories. For example, which girls are homesick? Is school provided for the minors? Which girls are with "guardians"/parents and which ones are in the house? What does a typical day look like: how many hours spent dancing? Singing? Presenting? Have the girls been instructed on cultivating a unique persona? How disciplined is each girl, really? How reliable? How many dance routines did they have to learn? How do they afford to go out? Who pays for personal grooming? What about conflict amongst the participants? Feelings of jealousy? I can't be the only viewer alarmed by the story told by one of the younger girls' "guardian", which goes something like this: While lurking around a random performance event (a pageant or dance recital), she happened across a most charismatic and talented child of about 6 or 7 years old, whom, she was convinced, could become a star, but only under her own tutelage and Hollywood connections. Somehow, this fairy godmother convinced the child's parent/s to sign over guardianship and move her to Hollywood. We're never told what the fairy godmother was getting out of the deal (other than unfettered access to a young child, obviously), nor when her (skeevy) partner came into the picture. If *I* want to know details like this, others do, too.

I also take issue with the editing (which, granted, must have been a monumental task): each episode covers such huge gaps in time that it's difficult for the viewer to know where we are in the story. For example: how did a foot fracture heal in the blink of an eye? What did the injured do during the six weeks+ of recovery: practice her voice for the entire six weeks? How on earth did she catch up with the dance routines? Did she receive physical therapy? Who paid the medical bill? I can't imagine you can get out of a boot and be back to new, let alone start back with daily training in heels.

While I fully appreciate the immense talent and importance of dancers, singers, athletes, and other performers, making this one's profession is usually folly. What percentage of dancers can support themselves without help? There is simply too much talent and too few opportunities in a field where you're a single injury away from catastrophic failure. Even if you're one of the "lucky ones" who escape an acute/devastating injury, the toll dancing/sport takes on a body can't be overstated. We only get one. In professions where the competition is so extreme, corruption is bound to occur; how can it possibly be otherwise? Also, the career lifespan of a dancer is self-limiting: how many professional dancers are there over the age of, say, 35?

I couldn't help compare this show with the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders (DCC) documentary: as weird and culty the DCC seem to be, I was endlessly impressed by the level of excellence, professionalism, and commitment displayed by every participant of the DCC, from top to bottom. In contrast, "The Making of a Pop Star" (MPS) feels like Amateur Hour, like no one really knows what they're doing (save the Chairman and the recording expert). Like the DCC, the MPS participants work around the clock with no days off, and for a pittance, if anything. In both cases, riches are never promised, only fame.

In situations like MPS or DCC, the ONLY people who stand to profit are the producers at the top: the performers are truly nothing more than dancing monkeys, performing not even for riches, but merely for the promise of fame. Talk about a deal with the devil! Fame neither fills your belly nor keeps you warm at night; it's both fleeting AND a double-edged sword. Did no one warn these girls?