Detention’s John Hsu returns to peak horror comedy powers in a satire about undead influencer culture
Whether living or dead, everyone deserves their 15 minutes of fame. In John Hsu’s Dead Talents Society, it turns out the Afterlife is just as driven by influencer culture and fame as the world we depart; to remain on part of the astral plane, ghosts must pursue their haunting license and scare up as many followers of their unique urban legend to stay “alive” in people’s memories. But in a world where they have to compete with the latest horror movies in addition to each other, it’s not enough to be a conventional long-haired ghost with a grudge–you need a gimmick, something that’ll set social media ablaze with your original story.
Once the award-winning, back-bending ghost of hotel room 414, Catherine’s (Sandrine Pinna) shining star has been eclipsed by her protege Jessica (Eleven Yao), whose utilization of cursed videos has gone viral across the internet. Despite the efforts of ex-idol turned ghost manager Makoto (Bolin Chen) and their curmudgeonly assistant Kouji (Soso Tseng), Catherine remains washed up, trapped to a single location to pull off her lackluster scares. Enter The Rookie (Gingle Wang), a nebbish teenage girl who died without a story to craft around her lonely, insignificant death. With the clock ticking until The Rookie’s termination, Makoto seizes the opportunity to have Catherine take The Rookie under her wing and mold her into a terrifying new ghost worthy of international infamy.
Bursting at the seams with a tongue-in-cheek reverence for the now-ubiquitous tropes of Asian horror films, John Hsu’s Dead Talents Society is a zany, irreverent spin on influencer culture that’s equal parts The Ring, What We Do in the Shadows, and Strictly Ballroom–creating an instantly memorable midnighter that celebrates the blood, sweat, and fears that go into crafting our favorite scary set pieces.
As its title suggests, much of Dead Talents Society’s charm comes from the strength of its diverse ensemble, all of which not only play to different comedic strengths, but each have their chance to steal the coveted spotlight. Despite the film amplifying her bookish insecurity, Gingle Wang’s Rookie stands as a refreshing counterpoint to everyone’s more polished and artificial personalities–and her sincerity works well to disarm everyone and allow their more vulnerable inner selves to peek through. As the film’s central warring Ghostresses, Sandrine Pinna’s Catherine and Eleven Yao’s Jessica are delightfully catty, and it’s hilarious seeing how their fight to exert a poisoned influence over the Rookie reaches absurd, theatrical heights. Soso Tseng’s Kouji is so delightfully done with everyone’s antics in each scene, bitter about how as a middle-aged man he can’t reach the success of more long-haired wraiths in their field–but his commitment to making their setpieces land with precision is so much fun. A standout, though, is Bolin Chen’s undead talent agent Makoto–whose drive to help the Rookie and Catherine succeed is partially fueled by foiled 90s idol dreams during his past life. It’s a wonderfully self-deprecating part, playing into the inherent silliness of idol culture–a similar industry to horror cinema that perpetually seeks evolution and success at all costs, and where past trends that seemed revolutionary can turn dated and comedic with rapidly approaching hindsight.
But while each of these characters are played for gut-busting laughs, Hsu and co-writer Kun-Lin Tsai aim their punches at the absurd society these characters live in, not the characters themselves. As Catherine bemoans late in the film, these ghosts find that they’re forced to work harder in death than in life–in an industry whose superficiality takes on afterlife-or-death stakes. It shines a bitingly critical light on the constant debasement of influencer culture, and how that system harvests individuality and clicks by any means necessary–turning its participants into literal monsters in the process. While there are so many laughs at the expense of this culture, Hsu remains equally focused on giving its participants a potential escape: permitting for people to find work that makes them happy, and a support system that isn’t comprised of one’s follower count. In short, encouraging viewers to live their best (after)life.
Perhaps the most rewarding aspect of Dead Talents Society was its depth of reverence for the immense international impact of Asian horror cinema while recognizing how the genre’s over-proliferation in the last few decades makes it perfectly ripe for satire. There are long-haired, white-dressed girls aplenty, cursed videos, and specters that bump in the night. At the same time, we see how these ghosts are nothing without their stunt team to throw objects; how awkward it can be to sit on a victim’s neck a la the Thai film Shutter; how jump scares utilize multiple body doubles to save energy. In this vein, Dead Talents Society plays into the legacy of films like Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon or Beetlejuice, exposing how silly these stories are while celebrating the imagination and hard work these ghosts must endure to provide us with momentary frights. Notable urban legends across folklores make cameo appearances as well, providing insanely creative sight gags and set pieces.
The best Fantastic Fest films are the ones that, like these specters, leap out of nowhere to disturb and delight. With Dead Talents Society, John Hsu crafts a fiendishly clever crowd-pleaser for horror and comedy fans across the globe–one that gives influencer culture the spooky skewering it more than deserves.
Dead Talents Society had its US Premiere at Fantastic Fest 2024, where it won the Festival Audience Award. Sony Pictures International currently holds worldwide distribution rights.
