Dejavu Group

“GOTTASADAE.” First of all, BewhY… ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS VIDEO?! How does one articulate the mastery of one of the most brilliant pieces of visual art to come out of South Korea? There are so many avenues. So many theories. However, one thing stuck out to me in about a dozen different ways. The ego of man. “GOTTASADAE” seems to be the perfect visual representation of a man constructing a kingdom unto himself. BewhY and director Hobin have expressed that with form, color, and references, all of which blew my mind.

From the outset it’s obvious something’s… wrong here. One can point to the most blatant example of perhaps “troubling” imagery (the nearly naked men writhing in motions indicative of contemporary ballet). However, if you allow yourself to ruminate in those moments of silence on screen you can’t help but notice the symmetry.

Every part of this music video relies heavily on the illusion of perfection. It’s this obsessive attention to detail that is so incredibly unsettling. You see it in horror films like “American Psycho” or Stanley Kubrick films: absolute control. A glamour of a reality in which the main character meticulously maneuvers everything to fit in its place. The ultimate God complex.

Musical Geometry

It starts, as most things do, with sound. “GOTTASADAE” is a song that you must listen to with headphones. Only then will you pick up on its truly frightening details.

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The weight of each sound is almost identical. As in, the volume is absolutely the same. What gives it that feeling of “offness” is that both manipulations of BewhY’s voice are in separate ears. The low distortion of the word “BewhY” in the chorus is spanned 180 degrees (completely in the right ear). Meanwhile, the distortion of the word “Gottasadae” is spanned -180 degrees (completely in the left ear).

Thus you get perfect balance that seems unbalanced because of its perfection. The sounds being absolute (completely in one ear or the other) creates both a vacuum effect and the illusion of surround sound. The added dissonance of the filtered bass line (compliments of a gritty fuzz pedal or pedal design), the ambient manipulation of a violin superimposed atop the pitch-perfect staccato of the choir. It’s all measured. Intentional. Symmetrical. Oppressive.

This equity of sound means BewhY has imposed his kingdom on all sides. You are surrounded by it. Seemingly his “walls” are indestructible. The first layer of his self-made domination lay in the listener’s own equilibrium.

Kingdom of the Mind

Visually “GOTTASADAE” is intoxicating.

I found aspects of multiple films in “GOTTASADAE,” particularly in terms of coloring. However, the most powerful parallel came from one of my favorite films, “The Cell.” Though Hobin doesn’t have Tarsem Singh’s visual aesthetic, his eye is attuned to find beauty in the painfully distorted.

The overall imagery of “GOTTASADAE” falls in line with Carl Stargher’s house of depravities. (Warning: The linked scene is NSFW.) Singh borrowed heavily from the Quay Brothers’ stop-motion short film “The Street of Crocodiles” (based on the collection of short stories of the same name by Bruno Schulz).

The ultimate moral of that story is the decay of the current society in lieu of the progression of modern society. Technology infringing on (instead of coinciding with) memories of a country’s former self. (“Hangeul will be sold”; “The standard of old and new will be me.”) How this plays out in the short film and Singh’s references to it is through very meticulous movement and an uncomfortably close look at man’s attempt to control his environment.

The stables.

The near nudity of the dancers in “GOTTASADAE” is not unlike the deceptively semi-nude women trapped in Stargher’s own twisted kingdom. As with Stargher’s prison, the dancers act as BewhY’s living dolls. Various versions or manifestations of himself. His pride, his madness, perhaps even a bit of his self-loathing. But when they’re not trapped in their own cells, they move to his command. Are subject to his whims. The twitch of his hand like a conductor with a baton. His fingers poised like a violinist on his bow, the strings plucked to his cadence. He moves and the dancers react involuntarily.

BewhY Gottasadae…

Further, in “The Street of Crocodiles,” the dolls have no eyes. BewhY’s dancers wear horse blinders. It’s a device used to keep horses from noticing their surroundings as they cart about loads of humans. Supposedly it’s meant to keep them from becoming startled. One can infer that the blinders are meant to keep his dancers from seeing the world around them. Forcing them to focus on the commands of the human on their backs: BewhY. Further making it impossible for them to question their station. How can they if they can’t see anything beyond what’s in front of them?

After all, “in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.” When no one can see what’s in front of them, the one with his eyes uncovered can construct the future. (“Leaders will follow me. I will be a pioneer. Money will find me. I will make a generation of my name.”)

Their bodies contort as much as he does. However, when fully clothed, heads and faces covered, they jump as one, giving concrete form to the pulse of the bass. In fact, nothing moves until the first iteration of “Gottasadae!”

He has given his orders and expects them to be carried out. In this world of his creation (set inside a place for raising, training, and displaying horses), nothing lives until he gives it life.

Kingdom Ruled by Power

Lyrically… I’m… so angry! I’m angry at the absolute gall BewhY has. The first thing I did, straightaway, was look up the translation for “gottasadae” (가라사대). There isn’t a direct English equivalent. The root of it is “to say.” The honorific level of the word places it in the “voice” (for lack of a better word) of someone “holy.” Think, “And God spake unto them…”

This casts the shade of the entire song. BewhY lines out the divine decrees of his new kingdom where he is the ruler of all. A kingdom of himself: “I will be who I want to be. I will be myself.” (“I am that I am.” (Exodus 3:14))

The introduction of the Bible verse is fascinating. “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power.” (1 Corinthians 4:20) In the entirety of the third chapter of 1 Corinthians, Paul defines the people of God’s church and what’s expected of them.

At the end of the fourth chapter Paul issues his warning to those who’ve grown arrogant. “Arrogant people,” Paul essentially says, “are full of talk. So I’ll come and see how much power they actually have.”

As BewhY stands in the small opening of the barn door (“The center will be me”), his congregation awaits him. The eight men standing on pillars (stripped before a congregation of men whose heads are covered) represent the measure of him as a man. His words are provocation, a warning. He declares, “I will set a standard. I will show the future. Fakes would be living with regrets.” His kingdom is built on power. His “disciples” are a visual representation of that power.

Damn.

There’s Just Too Much!

BewhY has big brassy ones for pulling this off with such fearlessness and precision. Let us be clear. This video, the music, the lyrics, his delivery are precise. Not an image (visual or otherwise) was dropped in by mistake. BewhY has a vision of himself as king among paupers. Every aspect of this piece is another brick in the foundation of his of kingdom.

Obviously this doesn’t even scratch the surface of the majesty of “GOTTASADAE.” The relevance of the janitor. The meaning of the letters and numbers on his shirt (1017 A L Y X 95M). The cage/lacrosse mask over his face… There’s just so much! I had to focus on just a few things because I could’ve honestly written a dissertation on the visual and aural imagery of this piece of absolute magic!

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