Gender is Monstrous - A Look at "Skin"
(Disclaimer: we're gonna talk about some gender dysphoria related things and about the inherent queering of monsterhood. And also a lot of lighting nerd stuff. I think it's what mother would want).
You are five years old when you evaporate
That consume your rotting brain and body
You are eight years old when flies scatter into green, green grass, circling hands and enveloping ears
You are ten years old when flies grab you close and hold you tight.
They tell you you are perfect for your flies. Pristine.
This is an excerpt from a poem I wrote the summer after I came out. I was 19, barely certain of who I was or who I was becoming, and I was trying to put into words things that I had barely allowed myself to think.
I spent a lot of time justifying and explaining my gender identity to a lot of people, from psychologists to friends to family. Every time I would, I would run up against similar problems.
Namely, I don't know how to explain gender dysphoria. I still don't, but acquiring gender affirming care means you often do have to try and explain. So you try. Desperately. All the time. When you've been doing that for so long, you start to develop shortcuts. Metaphors that work for you.
For me, flies work. It captures the floating. The dissociation. The inherent horror of feeling your body not present within you or yourself.
To put it simply, to make my body be known I had to make it monstrous first. To save myself I had to embrace the monster.
To say I had a bit of a moment watching the Skin MV feels kind of like an understatement.
I watched this music video minutes after I woke up. It was my first time in the queue for an ATEEZ music video ever, so that in itself was special, but I, uh. I was not prepared.
Let's walk through some conversations about monsters and gender and lighting, shall we?
(Note: I had a really hard time narrowing down how many shots I wanted to talk about for this video. I chose ones that I hadn't seen a lot of people talking about yet for that reason. @noctilucentminki and @handlebarstiedtothestars and @atiny-for-life wrote really fantastic metas/analysis, and I highly recommend reading those if you haven't already).
DISCLAIMER (It's my way of writing okay): We're gonna talk about things from my perspective, so we're going to focus a lot on lighting and camera angles and choices that inform the narrative of the video from MY perspective. I'll talk about this at the end a bit more, but I'm looking at this from a distinctly queer and or trans perspective. It doesn't mean it's the only perspective you can watch this music video with, but if you have a problem with my choice to view something from that perspective, fuck off. This is not for you.
Skin is a masterclass on the influence changes in lighting can have on the visual impact of your shots. This is not necessarily anything new for the horror genre. Scary movies have always used the angle of their lighting to reveal, to emphasize, to scare. To tell the audience something our lead doesn't know yet. Skin applies those principles because the horror of Skin resides in the simultaneous fear and thrill of being seen. So much of this video is about self perception, and the changing nature of that over time, so it makes sense that the first thing we have to talk about is angles. The angles of the lighting in Skin act as a visual shorthand for Seonghwa's relationship with identity.
For example, let's take a look at the meat of this music video. Our main shot.
When I first broke down this series of shots properly, I felt like a professor with a laser point in a lecture hall. Or like one of those dry-erase markers in those director breakdowns on YouTube.
Everything you need to know about Skin is revealed in the journey of how this location is shot. Let's break it down.
So we've got five main sources of light in these series of shots, at least in a general sense.
Our diagonal frontlight from our left, Seonghwa's right. You can tell the light is set up like this later in the video, when it strobes back and forth with our other diagonal frontlight. Diagonal frontlight generally also looks better on human bodies, especially when you're filming them.
Our diagonal frontlight from our right, Seonghwa's left. You can tell it's still there, Seonghwa's just blocking it with his hands right now.
Then we've got this practical, an overhead light that might be in the filming location all the time, or was set up specifically for this. It looks rather like a permanent architectural fixture, but regardless, it's a lighting practical that is influencing our vision of Seonghwa at this moment. (See the Youth breakdown for more on practicals). There's a few of them actually, a full row that you can see later in the view.
We've got this backlight too, with a smaller beam and a lower amount of spread. It's mainly focused lower on their bodies, and it's my theory that it's to separate their legs out and prevent them from getting lost in the background of the shot. It's very classic cool dance lighting stuff.
Then we've got the coolest thing. This powerful, blinding, high diagonal backlight. I want to see the BTS for this so bad I need to know what this light source is, please KQ I beg.
These are our lighting angles for the Skin music video. Diagonal frontlight, toplight, low backlight, and high diagonal backlight. They all signify different moments in Seonghwa's journey on his way to deciphering himself, and they all reveal more than you'd expect. Let's talk about it.
(NOTE: We're going to bounce around the music video quite a bit here. It makes the most sense in my head. Trust me).
1 + 2. Diagonal frontlight - Dual identity and walking in two worlds
Let's start with our two diagonal frontlights. It's the start of everyone's journey.
Frontlight is complicated. I've talked about this before, but many forms of frontlight often wash out or minimize a performer's features to the detriment of not just the performer, but the story overall. I come from a school that taught me how to light plays, primarily, so I am madly allergic to front light in many cases, because it always exists for the benefit of the audience and not the performer. The audience wants to see the performer's face more than anything. Thus, we have to make sure their face is illuminated. Even when it looks out of character, or out of sense for the story.
Okay, I'm not that mean, I get why people want to see actor's faces. Here's the thing though, when you're trying to light an impactful, grounded story, you often have to ask yourself what is more important. Do we feel the emotions of the moment and the reality of the situation? Or can we see the actor's face perfectly?
Because if you're lighting a scene that takes place in an alleyway, or in a dusky dive bar, or under the moonlight, you might not be able to see everyone's face perfectly. There are tricks you can use to help work that into the story, and suspend disbelief, but front light can still work against you.
Except sometimes, there are moments where frontlight can actually help to tell your story. Where you need a moment to emphasize the change in character perception, a twist.
What am I talking about? I'm talking about these shots right here:
I gasped when I saw these for the first time, mainly because I was like. Oh. We're doing the dual angle reflecting dual, conflicting emotions. Oh!
It's very subtle, but there's a clear difference in the angle that Seonghwa is frontlight here that correlates with the change in hair color and expression. In our first image, when Seonghwa is in our red room, Seonghwa is being lit from our right, Seonghwa's left. In our second image, when Seonghwa is out of body, Seonghwa is being lit from our left, Seonghwa's right. Note the difference in illumination on the bridges of the nose. The second shot actually plays this up by decreasing the intensity on our mirror light, making it less balanced and even. If you keep looking at the music video, you find tons of examples of this conflict of angles reflecting the conflict within Seonghwa's own mind.
This whole sequence reflects this perfectly and combined with the strobe it emphasizes the torment of feeling these thoughts. Of living within the conflict of your own feelings and feeling out of body because of it.
Existing within a duality is also incredibly evident in other aspects of this music video, such as its focus on the afterimage and swapping of color of the shots. There's a ton of examples, here are a few of my favorites:
This moment as we walk with Seonghwa, dodging in and out of the patterns of light.
This moment, where we blur and warm tone the shot for just a second, before dragging us back into our color palette of cool blues.
The ending sequence also uses this technique to great success.
I was particularly drawn to this overlay of the head that splits in half and recombines into one person.
This motif of duality and dueling ideas sharing one person is such a common horror trope. We are so deeply scared by our own inner conflict and inner turmoil and inner desires that we call it monstrous. The dueling front lights, and the other examples of duality, (that are often accompanied by the strobing in between), reflect the complexities in character.
What complexities is Seonghwa working through? It's up to interpretation, sure, but in my opinion.....
I think it's really interesting how in this specific portion frames Seonghwa from one angle, swaps to the opposite angle to frame the individual with long dark hair, and then keeps that same framing and movement as Seonghwa returns. I'm not saying the warring ideals are femininity and masculinity trapped within Seonghwa, because gender is never just as simple like that, but I do think the duality theming showing up here between Seonghwa and the long-haired individual means something important. Especially within the context of our next lighting system..
3. Toplight - Conflict under Conformity
Yes, okay Seonghwa looks hot here sue me. But this is a great example of our next major lighting system in the music video, aka, toplight.
Toplight is interesting because while it can be very helpful to use to light a scene, it rarely makes us as humans look good unless there's a slight angle to it. It does not work to emphasize our bodies, but rather to emphasize the tops of our heads, often making us look taller, longer, more intimidating. If it's a specific beam with not a lot of spread, it reads more as boxing us in. It's a human-made system of lighting, and by that I mean we associate it with human generated light sources. The sun does not work like that, hanging over the same spot day after day. What does, however, are overhead lights, like...
This lamp, directly over Seonghwa's head during this portion of the video. It's not particularly helping emphasize the dancing or the movement, rather its purpose (at least in my opinion), feels much more rooted in the storytelling of it all.
By this I mean that when we see toplight, we see pressure. We see rigidity and uniformity. Especially when it's cool white, a color we associate with hospitals and offices and hyper sanitary locations.
By the way, do you know what area also uses toplight?
It's time to talk about our "womb" room.
A lot of people have already compared this room to a sort of safe space, a hidden corner, a place where Seonghwa feels vulnerable.
I look at this shot here, one of the first where we blur our shot, making his limbs feel shaky and unsteady, and while maybe this room is meant to evoke safety, it's a fragile one.
There's no entrance or opening in this room. It's disorienting, and at one point, Seonghwa even looks at the walls, examining the repeated fabrics and the layers. The toplight in this room exists as the only way out, our only opening. For me, that feeling does not evoke safety, but instead an overwhelming sense of pressure. There is no escape, even if this is the safety of one's mind.
Additionally, we have to talk about the use of toplight in this scene too.
One of the most iconic ones in the video, this scene is dramatically lit with toplight, my guess is a single overhead source positioned directly over our nugget of gender. (Note the reflection on the top of their heads).
It is undeniably meant to evoke the feeling of a doctor's office, of the sanitary discomfort you feel in the waiting room. The awkwardness you feel, and the pressure involved. Feeling like you're under a microscope.
This is why this pathway is rejected, this is why this scene only occurs once in the music video. Even though this is a different feeling than the fragile security of the womb room, it is still lit the same way. The pressure exists either way. To me, in breaking this scene down, I am reminded of having to explain myself to people in the medical field. The way one of the women looks through the water at the blood-soaked hunk that was ripped from Seonghwa feels, although not unkind, unsettling. Seonghwa can't even really make eye contact with them. There is a horror in escaping from feeling trapped and realizing there is still more work to do. There is a horror in attempting to understand yourself, and realizing you can't quite fit into a definition that feels correct.
4. Low Backlight - Finding Support in Others
I puzzled over the meaning of the backlight in the main shot of the video. Backlight is just such a complicated thing in theatre, and it can live in many different worlds. My favorite thing about it though, is its ability to create silhouette and shadow. This is clearly also the director's favorite thing about it, because these two shots are such a standout in the video for me. They feel giddy, a rush. An escape. They, themselves, escape. And in turn, they help Seonghwa escape.
Much has been written about the crossing of the gender line. I expect many more people to write much more about the crossing of the gender line. I will do my part to write a few more things about the gender line here, mainly because look. It's a low back light. (This whole music video has five lighting looks, see, I told you).
My main takeaway from this part of the music video is the freedom Seonghwa feels in finally feeling like a part of something bigger. The freedom that gives you as a person, in walking with a group bigger than yourself. I love the moment of hesitation before deciding to do it anyway. The line opens up immediately too, like Seonghwa was always meant to live there. And we get this shot too.
This sequence is the most even Seonghwa has been lit, and when Seonghwa turns to face the camera, it feels like a moment of daring. Of acceptance. Of daring to face something bigger and coming out on the other side.
This is the escape Seonghwa has longed for, of finally breaking out from the duality and the pressure. Note how here we are being lit in unity, each of them in a line. It is a form of escape, in feeling like you fit in somewhere, finally.
Yet, something still is missing.
Because what on earth is happening over in the corner of this garage?
5. Diagonal backlight - Acceptance and Embracing the Monster
All throughout this video, like a scene-stealing gremlin, my brain has been locked in on this blinding light coming from the corner of the garage.
Part of the reason it's so puzzling is because it does not mirror itself on the opposite side. Normally, when you're lighting a space, you try to make sure everything mirrors. It makes things look more even, and therefore your actors look more dimensional.
Not here though. In this video, this blinding light sketches these wide diagonal shadows across the ground, in a way you can't help but stare. It's beautiful, and it's uncanny, and we don't see what is the root of it, what is making that blinding light happen, until the very end.
This is what our source of our high diagonal light is, this whole time. How do I know? Because in finally embracing it, it is the only light element still present at the end of the video, after Seonghwa fully embraces the complexity.
It stands guard at the end here, blinding and brilliant, and now framed at the center. It's a pathway out, very similar to the other pathway out we saw here.
But this time it's all Seonghwa's path. It mirrors the path of the backup dancers, sure, but it's fragmented. It has many possibilities for reaching the same source.That's why the change in position is important in the last moments of the video too. We no longer have one pathway out, and that's because Seonghwa finally embraces the monster. Seonghwa walks up to the source of that blinding light and takes it in, like an exploding star. I cried when I watched it back and put it together, watching the minds meld in real time.
I'm going to wrap this up here, because it's getting long and I'm so late on this. I do want to say, however, once again, that this is ultimately the rambling of someone with a deep love for queering media and text. If that's not your thing, that's cool, but it is a thing that has been around longer than you and will continue to happen. I am reminded of @makesoneteam's posts on Seonghwa here, which I found very important. Skin contains multitudes. The Skin MV especially contains multitudes. I like queering it, and I like talking about the lighting of it, because I am a queer person who likes lighting. It's sort of that simple.
Regardless, I am extremely proud of Seonghwa and the creative team on this MV shoot. It is definitely one of my favorites, and I can only spot some of them. I'm not even that trained in film lighting, so I can only imagine what a cinematographer might talk about here.
In short, lighting angles mean things. I think they help reveal a lot of conversations about conformity, dueling identities, and facing your own monsters. Thank you Seonghwa for letting me talk about those things.
And, thank you all for reading!
