A Wild Journey That Occasionally Goes Off Key

We’ve hit the point in history where film and TV are tapping into late 90s/early 2000s nostalgia, and Wild Sing (Waildeu Ssing) takes a comedic swing at the K-pop industry during that era, where the first generation of pop singers and groups paved the way for today’s hottest artists like Stray Kids, Ateez, and Black Pink. The earnestness with which the epic musical trio at the center of the film presents themselves is endearing, if a little bit cringe. However, in the pursuit of reclaiming their spotlight, the plot succumbs to undesirable chaos.

Directed by Son Jae-gon and written by Kim Chae-woo, the first thirty or so minutes of Wild Sing work to establish the film’s central co-ed pop group, Triangle. Discovered by the suspicious producer Park Yong-gu, dancer Hwang Hyun-woo (Gang Dong-won), aspiring rapper Gu Sang-gu (Um Tae-goo), and vocalist Byeon Do-mi (Park Ji-hyun) are brought together and launch to great success with their debut “Love Is.” Unfortunately, after being fleeced by Yong-gu and plagiarism allegations ruin their reputation, the group eventually disbands.

Over twenty years later, none of the members of Triangle are living the life they wanted. Hyun-woo is living the life of a forgotten celebrity, and opportunities to ride whatever clout he has left are fading fast. Sang-gu is selling insurance and owes a boatload of debt that, if he doesn’t pay back soon, may result in serious bodily harm. Do-mi might actually have the best deal of the three, having married wealthy but is at the mercy of an unforgiving mother-in-law. The three get the opportunity to perform again at a concert, but it’s not easy getting there.

Wild Sing shows the highs and lows of K-pop stardom, but always keeps its eye on the power of a dream.

The journey to stardom is often fraught with sacrifices, but also with unmet expectations and crushed dreams. Many don’t know how to handle the aftermath, and Wild Sing demonstrates that well. This is particularly true with the male members of Triangle, but also with rival singer Choi Seong-gon (Oh Jung-se), who falls from grace after being caught up in a drug scandal. He now makes his living hunting rather than winning over hearts with his ballads. The desire to perform again after being cast down so harshly is an understandable motivation.

Even more understandable is the struggle for all four to come to terms with the opportunity being offered to them. The time they spend mulling over their options and then battling their way back to the studio for this golden opportunity, unfortunately, messes with the pacing. This is despite some prime moments of comedy when they run into a familiar, deceptive face from their past and have to deal with the aftermath after one too many things go wrong. 

The ship does eventually right itself in time for the performance everything has built up to, but the resolution is a little hasty. There’s no denying it is the closest to an ideal outcome for all involved, especially Seong-gon, but if the trajectory of the plot had been more balanced, the ending would read less like a footnote and more like something with more weight. That said, the end credits featuring performance from Triangle is a cute touch.

There are some hits and misses in recreating the fashion of the aughts.

For a film that emphasizes music, Wild Sing is not one that features grade-A singing, but, based on memory, it reflects the early era of K-pop. The battle between spectacle-heavy, punchy numbers and flower boy soloist ballads is a familiar one and also unfair, birthing rivals where there didn’t need to be any. For the actors in Triangle, they perfectly captured the awkward clunkiness and high-octane energy needed to do those numbers, back when the winning formula hadn’t yet been wholly solidified. 

With that said, Wild Sing also nails some of the unforgivable fashion stylings of the aughts. It was not a good time for fashion, with the performance costumes of the time being pretty garish, and the team nailed that here. The hairstyles of that period were also rough, but the performers made it work. Unfortunately, the wigs that the poor cast had to wear in this movie, in both time periods, are criminal. Gang Dong-won’s wigs, in particular, never seem natural on camera due to how they are styled and framed to his face. It is needlessly distracting.

Wild Sing has something going for it. Its cast is absolutely committed to the craft, portraying former K-pop idols who have struggled to move on with their life. With a chance to reclaim the spotlight and relish memories of past success, this comedic film offers some funny moments that ultimately get weighed down by a mispaced storyline.  Even still, Wild Sing is decent enough to pop on and, if you’re old enough, cringe over the aughts aesthetic.

Wild Sing is now streaming, exclusively on Netflix.