Fiction, 2022
Teenage obsession is a powerful thing. It’s the stuff that fuels 90% of movies and songs, and probably has a significant contribution to the global economy—not that I could find any data on this, regrettably.
And when the outlets of middle-school crushes fail us—people are too real to be perfect—we turn to fandom, where purpose is met with adoration. Though I was too old to be a part of the K-pop surge, I remember spending days online with One Direction and then proceeding to read several “imagines”—but only the Harry and Liam ones.
Idol, Burning is a case study of a fangirl, but it’s also an interrogation of late-stage capitalism, questioning our mediums of love and our methods of living. Meet Akari, a young girl living with her mother and sister who spends her days writing blog posts for an online fan forum in an overwhelmingly blue room. The target of her obsession—her “oshi”—is Masaki, a singer of the J-pop group Maza Maza. Like any good fangirl, she buys all of his merch and piles up the uselessness of 50 CDs, several cups, and alarm clocks on a wall of shelves in her room. It becomes her shrine. But everything changes when one day, Masaki is accused of slapping a fan. His ratings plummet, he takes time off, and Akari has no reason to wake up in the morning. When she eats, she’s met with regurgitation. When she tries to walk, she falls.
It’s wrong for me to say any more because Idol, Burning measures at the same length as my cat’s freshly cut nails—coming in at just over 100 pages. In the same vein of “Y/N” by Esther Yi, Usami explores the search for meaning and purpose in an increasingly lonely world, and does so through the eyes of the greatest lover—the teenage girl.
Song - Every Breath You Take
Film - Melancholia