‘Mask Girl’ review: a captivating tale of murder and vengeance
“It feels like the world I knew yesterday is disappearing,” Mask Girl’s titular protagonist Kim Mo-mi says in a rather bleak monologue. “I still love the cheers and applause people give me.” It is a line that aptly describes what drives Mo–mi throughout Netflix’s latest K-drama thriller series. She is a melodramatic woman who deeply and carnally craves for her place under the spotlight, but of course, to be a star as a woman is to appeal to the male gaze. Yet, Mo-mi has never been able to do so throughout her life and is instead constantly reminded of how “ugly” she is, leading her down a path of reclusively.
Mo-mi eventually figures out a way to fulfil her desire for fame when she reaches her twenties. By day, she is a timid office worker who pines in silence for her married boss. By night, she dons a long, blonde wig and a rose-gold mask that covers all but her eyes, transforming herself into Mask Girl, a camgirl who holds nightly livestreams in order to entertain anonymous men online in exchange for extra cash.
She loves the attention this clandestine gig brings her, without the insults or snide remarks that usually come with a face reveal – or, at least, she has the ability to block them off her livestream. But her career as a mysterious camgirl soon comes crumbling down after a drunken mistake, which leads her to engage with a particularly off-putting “fan”, sending her down a spiral of vicious murder and vengeance.
Brilliantly written and directed by Kim Young-hoon, the seven episodes of Mask Girl are presented as disconnected pieces of an overall puzzle. It’s intentionally told through the eyes of various characters throughout the saga of Mask Girl’s mysteries in a way that’s refreshingly experimental for a K-drama and almost anthological. Mask Girl isn’t your classic murder mystery case or average vengeance fare, and that’s what makes watching the series so exciting and nail-biting.
We are never really sure of Mo-mi’s trustworthiness, true intentions, values or exact perspectives. All we are sure of is that she would do anything to become a star – a lá Mia Goth’s Pearl – even if it means pressing the restart button on herself again and again in order to achieve it. The three actresses who embody Kim Mo-mi throughout the three lives she lives – Ko Hyun-jung, Nana and Lee Han-byeol – do so in a manner that feels thoroughly symbiotic. All three women never once fail to embody the quiet lunacy and painfully unhinged nature of Mo-mi’s broken psyche and her frantic, desperate search for fame and love from the masses.
Mask Girl itself is a smorgasbord of themes and genres – horror, satire, social commentary, dark comedy and more – but doesn’t at any point feel disjointed or abrupt. Full of misdirection, twists and surprises, the show perfectly captures the inability to predict Mo-mi at any given moment by embodying that characterisation itself. It playfully engages with the audience and probes moments of much-needed reflection: how far are the broken and forsaken willing to go just to feel loved?
Mask Girl is a masterclass in knife-sharp satire and social commentary about the commodification and objection of women, their value to men who see them as objects and the madness it brews. K-dramas are usually dismissed and relegated to stereotypes of corny romance, love triangles, overdone action sequences and predictable revenge tales, but Mask Girl transcends them all. Kim Young-hoon and Netflix may very well have one of Korea’s best thriller series this year on their hands.
Mask Girl is available to stream exclusively on Netflix
The post ‘Mask Girl’ review: a captivating tale of murder and vengeance appeared first on NME.
Carmen Chin
NME
