I was given a call around 10 pm one Wednesday night in 2020.

“여보세요?” I answered, recognizing the name on my phone. It was a voice agent who had booked me for multiple recordings before; never anything special, just narrations for youtube commercials or kids songs. A late night call wasn’t out of the norm for me. In Korea, you’re always on the clock.

The voice agent (we’ll call her M) immediately demanded, “are you available tomorrow?”

“Well…” I pushed back, reluctant to give away my free time without knowing what the actual gig was. But M was already pushing.

“베키씨, I can’t give you more details but this is a very big production and I thought of you first. You’d be absolutely perfect and the client is already expecting you. Tomorrow, my employee will pick you up (where would you like to meet her?) and she’ll drive you to the studio location.”

At the mention of driving, I could be assured that the studio was going to be outside of Seoul, which means this wasn’t some half day thing. Most of the big studios are located in neighboring cities due to space. When you are booked for a big commercial, you oftentimes end up shooting in one of the same studios out in Paju.

But recording studios are everywhere in Seoul. There isn’t any need to go out to Paju for voice work.

“Where is the recording?” I asked.

“Ah, it’s not a recording. Not exactly. You’ll be in it but don’t worry, your face won’t be seen. Your voice is the most important thing.” M’s voice had taken on that wheedling, sly tone she uses when she doesn’t want to reveal the full truth but she really, really wants you to take the job.

Long story short, after some back and forth, it was decided that I would go all the way to Yongsan (this is best known as the city where Everland is) the following morning to do… a voice recording? A shoot? The details were very fuzzy but given my natural curiosity combined with a free day I ultimately accepted.

The following day, I met M’s employee who drove me to Yongsan in silence despite my few questions. She was very tight-lipped, refusing to reveal any information besides “this is a big client,” Thus defeated, I sat quietly in the backseat, watching Korean city turn to suburb to stretches of highway.

The shoot was happening at one of the biggest studios I have ever seen, anywhere, including the studios in New York City where the Marvelous Miss Maisel and many other tv shows have been filmed. This place was positively cavernous, with a makeshift concert stage built in the center of it, complete with lighting and elaborately set up cameras on jumbo cranes hanging high above everyone. It looked like a huge music concert about to happen, for an audience of crew and cameras.

Brushed aside and ignored by everyone on set, I took advantage of my invisibility to sneak a short behind the scenes clip.

Speaking of the crew, everyone was accounted for - camera operators, audio engineers, director, assistants, producers, grips… Korea, notorious for cutting every single cost possible often to the detriment of cast and crew, was sparing no expense here. M’s employee tapped my arm (I was peeking through the enormous double doors to witness this scene inside) and said my dressing room was in the building over. It was a simple room, with mirrors and a sofa. Quiet, comfortable and just for me. Good luck, she said, smiling, and left me.

To this day, this is one of the most mysterious shoots I have ever done. No clue for the client, the brand, my role, my lines. I realize now it’s because in comparison to the stars of the shoot I was literally so insignificant, nobody considered I would need to know.

I waited about two hours in the room. No one came for me. So I decided to go and have a look around. It was such a big studio, I was sure no one would give me a second glance. I made my way back over to the main building and slipped inside, standing closely to the back wall as I scanned the people milling around the great room (I cannot stress just how big this studio was. King Kong could have fit comfortably inside), looking for a clue. You can imagine my complete surprise when the makeshift stage, previously darkened and shadowy, suddenly lit up brightly by spotlights and I noticed the four tiny figures stood upon it.

“Good!” The director’s voice came booming from a microphone, echoing off the walls and concrete floor. “You guys are international superstars, so show lots of charisma!”

The figures, four girls in tightly fitted outfits, waved listlessly to the invisible crowd, swaying to some inaudible song, as sparkling confetti blasted overhead. It was an odd combination of dramatic stage lighting and a very flat performance.

“Okay, please show some more excitement. In this scene, you’re performing in front of a huge arena of fans,” The director said, sounding somewhat exasperated by the girls’ lackluster acting.

This was my first, in-person look at international superstars and ultra-popular Korean girl group BlackPink. And here we were, shooting a Pepsi commercial together.

To give some context, at that time I didn’t know a single detail about any of the girls; their names, what they looked like, their songs. I’m sure I’d seen a face here or there for this or that commercial and no doubt their music was played endlessly in the shopping plazas, but this was my first time seeing them actually as people. Besides being totally blindsided by the fact that I was now on set with the world’s biggest k-pop girl group, I was completely nonplussed by their seemingly lack of presence.

They shot the scene a few more times, with the director getting progressively most frustrated as he begged the performers to act as if they cared to be there. The four girls, with vague smiles plastered onto their faces, continued to wave and move lifelessly. I sometimes wonder if it’s because they were physically tired due to a rigorous schedule or if they genuinely didn’t care at all. The director said, “Cut,” with a sigh and the girls came down from the stage, rushed by a gaggle of assistants who chirped and cheered about how wonderful their stars looked. They passed by me (still leaning against the back wall) in a huddle and went to their own dressing room as the crew prepped for the next scene. In the final commercial, the director was able to find a good snippet of the girls showing some energy. Slick production can make up for a lot.

I had found a shot list lying around and noticed my name was included for the next scene they seemed to be setting, so I quickly hid in my dressing room again. Not too long after, I was escorted to the studio by an assistant, who breathlessly explained my role. I was to play a talk show host, speaking to BlackPink who were my guests. Don’t worry, she said, just the back of your head will appear and your voice. Somehow, everyone seemed to think I was concerned about my face.

I was led to the fake talk show sofa, scrolling LED banners flashing BLACKPINK behind the guest couch. I waited as the crew rushed around, setting the lights and boom mics. Sit like this, cross your legs, don’t turn your face too far towards the camera, here’s your mic, this is your line, can you memorize it now, the camera is going to come in like this from behind, oh they’re coming out now, this is where Jennie is going to sit, and let’s have Lisa walk in from here, are you ready?

It’s an odd feeling, seated across from BlackPink and knowing they’re so famous, smiling at each other politely as we wait for the director to say action. They’re all petite, pretty and seem to get along well with each other, which is always nice to see. You’ll find endless blog posts arguing over which member gets on well with who or if they’re even friends in real life.

By this time in my life and career, I’ve realized that screens multiply a person’s image. The more times you see someone on a screen the more their personality is multiplied. Appearing on screen, whether in a movie or on a youtube channel, makes someone seem larger than life.

Perhaps it was because I had never seen BlackPink on a screen, having never watched their music videos or tv appearances, that they seemed so ordinary to me at the time. Hi, I said. Hi, Rose said in reply. We were just fellow models on a commercial set.

When I watch this commercial now, I can’t help but shake my head. You hear my line, “Thank you for coming. You’ve been so busy lately. Don’t you ever want to rela-”

I don’t cut off the “x” because Jisoo had suddenly interrupted me or anything like that. The audio team who handled this commercial cut off the end of the word “relax” in an apparent fit of over-zealous editing.

And this is the ultimate irony of working on a Pepsi commercial with BlackPink. All the money in the world can be thrown at a production to have the best cameras, the best set, the best crew and the best superstars. And in the end, one careless editor can turn an ultra-cool commercial into something I can’t help but laugh at.

In the commercial, the girls respond to continual queries from myself and the other voice actor (whose face, don’t worry, doesn’t appear and just his voice) of “don’t you want to skip practice? Aren’t you tired?” And each BlackPink girl replies with expressions ranging from synthetically happy to downright grim as they say automatically, “no, we can do better. No, we can do more. No, we love it.” It’s a strange theme for a commercial looking back at it now.

In the two years since that shoot, BlackPink has evolved from beloved k-pop girl group into magnets for online hate (especially Jennie), controversial tv appearances (The Idol, again, Jennie) and picked apart for every little thing. Living in that kind of spotlight must be hard. I’ve worked at one of the biggest model agencies in Korea, where I also witnessed the process of selecting future k-pop idols for a major k-pop label (this is a story for another time). All I can say is nobody begins their dreams in this industry expecting later on to be stomped upon and spat out by the fans who previously loved them.

Perhaps BlackPink will avoid the demise so many girl groups before them have suffered. Perhaps they’re finally bigger than the K-pop factory that churns out female idols and just as easily crushes them. Who knows. But if I did meet them again, I could very well ask them the same question I had asked then in 2020 under the mechanic, hungry gaze of the camera lens.

“Don’t you ever want to relax?”

I wonder if the girls would respond sincerely today, “no, we love it.” I hope so - they deserve to enjoy their lives, no matter how magnified and spotlighted they might be.