They may seem harmless on their face, but few endeavors are as much of a double-edged sword as karaoke. On one side are the fun, silly good times that are found when you’re hanging out with friends and like-minded alcoholics. On the other is the abject suffering and horror that comes from having to listen to amateur singers, possibly while sober, with zero shame. Also, and this should not be understated, there’s the occasional issue with haunted karaoke machines causing all manner of bloody mayhem for anyone within earshot.
Welcome to 2017’s Killer Karaoke.
A remote hotel on the edge of a dense forest is having a grand reopening, and they’ve invited a handful of influencers, musicians, and journalists along for their soft launch. Unbeknownst to them, the scattered remains of a dismembered teenager have been found by a nearby stream, and she’s dressed in a uniform common to bar/karaoke girls. The police give her the Jane Doe-like nickname Premika (Gena Desouza) because it’s the brand name of the uniform.
Back at the hotel, one of the guests plugs in an old karaoke machine in the lobby releasing Premika’s spirit that was trapped within. The ax-wielding ghost begins targeting people, terrifying them, and then asking a simple question – “Can you sing?” Those who refuse are beheaded instantly, while those who sing off-key or get the lyrics wrong are killed for their musical mistakes.
I’ll be honest. This would probably make karaoke far more appealing to me, personally.
Killer Karaoke, also known as Premika, is as ridiculous a horror comedy as you’re likely to find. The comedic beats are almost nonstop and range from sight gags and horror movie references to a Benny Hill/Scooby Doo-inspired foot chase and jokes complete with phantom snare drum stings after a punchline. Sound effects are employed with abandon, and you know the whole thing is going to be unapologetically silly right from the start when a dogged cop is told to stop looking for Premika’s missing body parts because it’s just not necessary. “This is a corpse,” says his boss, “not Legos.”
Director/co-writer Siwakorn Charupongsa’s feature debut is a colorful, energetic ride that’s as amateurish as it is entertaining. The songs engage, and the karaoke performances see the participants magically endowed with costume changes and props (including one guy who’s transformed into Super Mario for reasons that are lost in translation). It’s an endlessly and broadly comedic romp that’s guaranteed to be too silly for some genre fans. Most fans, probably. Almost all of you. Those that stick with it, though, will find a simmering social commentary beneath the laughs.
Like last month’s Eternal Evil of Asia, this is a comedy with some serious criticisms of troubling male behaviors. That film wants to have its cake and eat it too as it pairs the commentary with loads of T&A, but Killer Karaoke is far more chaste by comparison. That’s likely due as much to the differing standards between Hong Kong and Thailand as to filmmaker intent, but it makes the subsequent truths hit surprisingly harder.
While last month’s film is a supernaturally twisted rape/revenge tale, this one casts a wider net for its male offenses and atrocities. The reveals come via dialogue, flashbacks, and beats that often feel like throwaway gags or “comedic” character traits before the darkness comes visible. Charupongsa isn’t interested in making the reveals graphic, so we never see any sexual violence even as the truth behind Premika’s fate comes clear. It’s the right choice as, again, the comedy here is so incredibly broad and silly that truly heinous visuals would crash against it tonally.
Premika’s story is specific – she’s not assaulted, but she is murdered by a man who considers her his property – but the film finds the real-world horror of it all by touching on issues we all know to exist, including the mistreatment and trafficking of young immigrant women, the seemingly accepted levels of violence toward sex workers, and more. There are villains here, the actual killers and abusers, but the film makes sure we’re also noticing the less dramatic, more everyday aggressions by men towards women too. One of the guests snaps a “harmless” upshirt photo, another berates his wife over her desire for children, others see women purely as sex objects, and so on.
Killer Karaoke is a 2017 release, so its use of violence against women as a plot instigator and thematic commentary isn’t all that surprising even if the film’s heavy comedic lean is. There’s one area of progressive awareness that is unexpected, though, and that’s in regard to sexual orientation and gender identity. It’s also messy – very, very messy.
As mentioned, most of the folks at this hotel have a pretty poor attitude towards women. There are also some very minor suggestions of homophobic humor, but complications arise from two characters, Top (Papinee Srimee) and Tun (Nathasit Kotimanuswanich). Top is a tomboy who’s frequently the target of digs aimed at her masculine appearance, but when she’s forced to duet with a co-worker who calls her “queer” and “tranny,” she’s transformed into a beauty queen for the performance.
Tun, meanwhile, is the lead singer of a boy band and frequently complimented by the women on his looks. He’s actually pining for one of his bandmates, though, and when Tun steps up for one of Premika’s karaoke challenges, he sings a heartfelt song of longing (possibly a Christina Aguilera cover?) while wearing a beautiful gown, wig, and makeup. In both cases, while the other characters are surprised at first, there’s an acceptance that immediately follows. But what exactly are they accepting in Top’s case?
Like I said, it’s loose and messy, and the same could probably be said about the movie as a whole. Acting is often over the top, sound effects are frequent, CG blood is comical, and the film shifts tone with abandon. One moment we’re getting silly jump scare stingers, and the next a character is telling Premika with powerful sincerity that they’ll sing “until the music cures your hate.” That casual sense of goofy mayhem feels intentional, though, and it builds to a third act that’s oddly touching in its reveals and relationships. Give it a chance, people, and be sure to stay through the end credits where the film joins the likes of The 40-Year-Old Virgin and There’s Something About Mary by featuring its entire cast singing a song together. You can sing along with them too, but don’t mess up the lyrics…
Hopping Mad is a column dedicated to exploring the beautiful, thrilling, incorrigible, and wildly entertaining world of Asian horror films from the ‘80s, ‘90s, and 2000s. Hong Kong, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, and Thailand are just a few of the 50 individual countries in Asia open to an appearance. Each is home to histories, folklore, and storytelling that don’t always reach western shores, and in keeping with the Certified Forgotten mission statement, Rob Hunter is hoping to change that by highlighting some of these underseen and unforgettable Asian horror gems.
