Don’t judge something by its cover, or its stunningly juvenile title.
A fter endlessly scrolling through the Netflix catalogue and failing to find a single appealing title that neither of us had seen, my boyfriend and I decided — assisted by the earlier consumption of wine — to watch the recently released KPop Demon Hunters, which is undeniably targeted toward teenage girls who crush on Korean singers. We hit play thinking that the animated movie would be entertainingly terrible, like Sharknado. Although I know this will be weaponized against me in the future, I must admit that KPop Demon Hunters is fantastic — so much so that I have since coerced National Review’s own Jeffrey Blehar to watch it, too.
The basic premise is not exactly complicated, but it is so original that it requires attention to detail. “Demons” extract souls from humans to feed their overlord Gwi-Ma, a name inverting the Korean word for the devil (“Magwi”). A singing trio of women emerged decades ago as the “hunters” whose songs of “courage and hope” help “unite” souls to form the “Honmoon,” a glimmering shield against the demons. The current trio iteration is the K-pop girl group “Huntrix,” whose lead singer, Rumi, was born to a hunter mother and a demon father. She declares, “I am a mistake, have been since the moment I was born,” but she has kept her genetic dilemma a secret — including from her two bandmates — by covering the tattoo-like patterns on her body that brand all the demons. The patterns grow to her throat and jeopardize her voice, so she urgently tries to seal the Honmoon, which she believes will eradicate the demons and possibly her own physical marks. But the Honmoon begins to disintegrate amid the rising popularity of the newfound demon rival band the Saja Boys, whose name means “lion boys” but also references Jeoseung Saja, the Korean equivalent of the Grim Reaper that translates to “netherworld emissary.” The two bands compete for the souls of audience members through upbeat music, while Rumi develops a mildly romantic relationship with Jinu, the extremely unreliable leader of the boy band. In the end, Rumi is exposed onstage as a demi-demon, but nevertheless she and her girl group defeat Gwi-Ma with Jinu’s help.
Screenplay writer Maggie Kang fulfilled her aim of making the movie “set in Korean culture,” and thus we see cups of ramyeon, single-sex saunas, an herbal-medicine doctor, and plenty of hyper-obsessive Korean fans. But perhaps inadvertently, broader themes of East Asian culture — along with latent hostility toward them — seep into the scenes. After one demon fails to defeat the girl band through trickery, the underworld leader Gwi-Ma (a raging fire lacking human form) subjects that demon to a Struggle Session before all the other demons, yelling, “I understand you are weak! Pathetic! Useless!” More strikingly, the demons are consumed by shame, and their marks are “a constant reminder” of it.
Of course, Kpop Demon Hunters could not underscore shame without emphasizing moral responsibility. Jinu is motivated to please Gwi-Ma because the burdensome memories of betraying his mother and sister will be erased if he steals enough souls. A scene that similarly emphasizes filial piety and duty appears when Rumi confronts her adoptive mother and band mentor, Celine. Rumi offers up her sword and asks to be slain, but Celine refuses because of a promise she made to Rumi’s (now deceased) mother. Celine, however, says she has difficulty accepting Rumi and adopted her without knowing about her demon ancestry, then insists that Rumi continue lying and covering up her patterns. “Our faults and fears must never be seen,” says Celine in defense of pursuing conformity for maintaining the optics of perfection.
At times, the muted grievances about Asian culture are hilarious. “Every snowflake is special,” says the announcer in advance of the showdown between the bands, “but one snowflake is probably the best.” We burst out laughing at that line, but it wasn’t obvious whether this was a joke or just an expression of the endemic meritocracy in Korean culture that starkly contrasts Western-style “gentle parenting.”
Despite the Asianness of the movie, Western influence is apparent. Although the opening 15 minutes are painfully cringeworthy because the visually intense animation style lacks sophistication, the last quarter of the movie is undoubtedly influenced by Christian themes. The Saja Boys perform the original song “Your Idol,” which begins with Latin that translates roughly into “That day of rage, dissolve you into ashes, accursed master, into everlasting flames,” interspersed with the words “pray for me now.” It is a fantastic representation of Satan’s seduction by false promises: The demons, unabashedly dressed as the Korean Grim Reaper, sing, “You know I’m the only one who’ll love your sins / Feel the way my voice gets underneath your skin,” “Your obsession feeds our connection / Give me all your attention,” “Living in your mind now / Too late ’cause you’re mine now,” “No one is coming to save you,” and “You’re down on your knees / I’mma be your idol.” The groovy devils and their tempting allure are contrasted with the Christian force of the tripartite girl band, singing about “truth” and “light” as they walk toward the center of the arena from different branches of the stage, forming a cross shape. These Christian themes are continued when Jinu sacrifices himself so that Rumi can summon the strength to defeat Gwi-Ma, thereby restoring goodness to the human souls and securing the permanent victory of good over evil. (Well, we assume it is permanent, but the men in suits at Sony Pictures Animation are probably developing KPop Demon Hunters 2: Gwi-Ma’s Revenge right now.)
The movie is a careful (and accidentally funny) portrayal of a culture in which shame dominates the soul and good social standing must be maintained, even by perpetual lying about one’s selfhood. KPop Demon Hunters is like an animated fever dream about a sequel to Amy Chua’s book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, during which a tiger mom’s child victim is crumbling beneath the pressure of high expectations yet refuses to acknowledge any deep resentment. Despite its name, KPop Demon Hunters is an entertaining, bloat-free movie with moral substance.