Viral insanity
Ah, viral videos. Do you remember when they didn’t exist? Neither do I. While I hate them more than I love them, I’ve come to realize just how essential they are to our existence.
Without these wildly popular clips, for instance, Ellen producers may need to invite more guests with actual entertainment industry pedigrees. CNN’s Jeanne Moos — the American equivalent of ABS-CBN’s Mark Logan — would run out of stories to report. Office employees across the planet would need to be truly busy, and not merely approximate the look of productivity. The world as we know it would totally crumble. Playing in that personal hell would be a medley of past Internet earworms, rendered lovingly in 8-bit: Double Take’s Hot Problems, Rebecca Black’s Friday and yes, The Numa Numa Song. When that happens, you’ll probably find me in a corner, soiled, rocking back and forth as a gif of Gwyneth Paltrow’s death scene in Contagion loops in the background.
Unlikeliest spoof
Arguably the most ubiquitous — and therefore the most vexing — viral video of the moment is Gangnam Style by South Korean rapper Psy. As I write this, the moon-faced 34-year-old (real name: Park Jai-sang) is doing his invisible horse dance at the top of Billboard’s Digital Songs chart and is terrifyingly approaching the peak of the Hot 100; his hit song has galloped up nine spots to 2nd place right behind Maroon 5’s One More Night. Psy has promised, rather gratuitously, to perform shirtless if he reaches number 1.
Countless parodies and reaction videos have been unleashed, but the unlikeliest spoof, Seongdang Style, comes from a Catholic parish in Seoul, which has coupled the original’s insistent beat with lyrics more palatable to their faith. “It’s important for the Church to develop digital content in order to survive in modern society,” said Father Ignatius Kim Min-soo in an interview with independent Catholic website ucanews.com. I wonder what Jesus Christ thinks of this latest PR stunt.
Tiresome Gimmick
As far as viral video content goes, the most common is music, according to social media source SocialTimes. In that category reside countless YouTube personalities who have, at one point or another, sang their praises to Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey and Jennifer Hudson with varying degrees of success.
When Charice rose to prominence in late 2007 on the back of her renditions of songs from The Bodyguard and Dreamgirls, it was quite refreshing. Her early performances, captured on video and washed across the blogosphere, contained an element of originality and a hint of the unexpected. Five years on, the now 20-year-old Filipina singer has become a template of some sort, the golden standard by which wide-eyed wannabes plot their imminent assault on the music business.
There’s General Santos native Zendee Rose Tenerefe, the “Random Girl” who wowed with her take on I Will Always Love You, shot at SM Megamall. “Her karaoke version, we will add, is arguably the best we’ve ever heard,” goes Ryanseacrest.com. Then there’s Roel Manlangit, a homeless child from Bukidnon who has recently shocked the public with his remake of the same classic tune. The two may have serious pipes, but their singing style — belting and pushing one’s vocals to an extreme — is nothing we haven’t heard before. The gimmick is getting quite tiresome and annoying. If you’ll recall, a bowl-haired Taiwanese boy by the name of Lin Yu Ching gained notoriety via the same route in 2010.
Participatory nature
Whether they turn you strangely giddy or make your blood boil, these YouTube sensations have become a peculiar part of contemporary life. They stand for the latest stage in our social media evolution, which has moved from the mysterious province of webcam diarists to take on a wholly participatory — either mockingly or creatively — nature.
“The Internet is the most potent medium of mass communication in human history but we use it to exchange videos of cats jumping through cardboard boxes, old Rick Astley songs and pictures of a rabbit with a pancake balanced on its head,” wrote British author Sam Leith in the Financial Times. So if there’s anyone to blame for all the lowest common denominator cyber debris we have today, it’s not a stocky Korean dancing cheesily or a flying cat with a Pop-Tart body. It’s us. Every time we watch, like, and comment on these videos, we help stoke the flame. They’re called viral videos for a reason: they’re infectious and disease-like, and right now there appears to be no cure.
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