‘Victory’ review: put pep in your step with this cute cheerleading romp

It’s 1999, and held-back high schooler Pil-sun (Lee Hye-ri) is a provincial girl whose big city dreams consist of being a back-up dancer in Seoul’s burgeoning K-pop industry. Just one problem – pegged as troublemakers, she and ride-or-die bestie Mi-na (Park Se-wan) are barred from using practice rooms on campus.

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Enter two school newcomers: big shot soccer player Chi-hyung (Lee Jung Ha) and his sister, cheerleader Se-hyun (Cho A-ram). Seeing a possible end to their days dancing in public bathrooms, Pil-sun and Mi-na scheme their way into forming a cheer club – the Millenium Girls – with Se-hyun, pledging to rouse enough school spirit to send their feeble soccer team to nationals.

Victory’s premise is familiar but shines in its execution. Take its performances, for instance: that Pil-sun is played by a former K-pop idol is no small credit. Lee Hye-ri brings the athletic ease expected of a Girl’s Day member, but she’s also believable acting as a mulish teenager bumping heads with despotic maths teachers and cheerleading’s rigidity. As a hip-hop dancer, Pil-sun is less concerned with perfection than flow and presence – or what she calls vibe – which Hye-ri is more than capable of exuding.

That loose quality is characteristic of the film as a whole, though it has pockets of urgency. Happening on the heels of the 1997 Asian financial crisis, Victory grounds itself in real life stakes as shipbuilders on the island of Geoje strike their unsafe, even fatal, working conditions. Pil-sun’s father, who manages one of the shipyards, finds himself caught between these workers and the callous superiors he lacks the courage to confront – a supposed reality check to Pil-sun’s naive, head-in-the-clouds fantasies.

Elsewhere, though, the setting is flimsy wallpaper. Taking place close to the director’s own school years, the set dressing is more hazy recollection than authentic recreation. Everything feels thoroughly modern, like the pagers in their hands could be swapped for cell phones at any moment. It’s a thin veneer of old gadgets and first gen K-pop tapes over everything that reads like it’s from the 21st century. These anachronisms could be taken with a grain of salt, too, if not for how title cards and dialogue go out of their way to remind you of this specific when and where. Still, remember – vibe. As with Pil-sun’s dancing, energy takes precedence over precision.

Vibe is the ultimate goal here, after all. Conceived during covid, Victory’s sole mission was to act as an uplifting comfort watch, which it does mostly by shrugging off complexity. In one scene, a cheerleader, grieving the loss of her father, stands precariously on a building ledge – but the tension is quickly diffused. How is she talked down, you ask? With the promise of new ice cream flavours and a K-pop concert on the horizon. It’s enough to startle a relieved laugh, but there’s a tinge of disappointment that accompanies the emotional heft being undercut by comedy.

Besides that, and a few off-colour bits of ogling from older men (ew), this humour is generally quite welcome. Though never straying too far from K-drama cliches, Victory’s heartfelt comedy gives it a leg up on the competition. The characters and story may feel a little stock, yanked straight out of a canon of teen movies from Bring It On to Bottoms, yet you won’t come away from this crowd-pleaser without a smile on your face to match those of the peppy Millenium Girls. And in that sense, Victory is victorious.