KPop Demon Hunters: Born to Be

As much as this premise may seem like a recipe for a surefire success, there’s more to KPop Demon Hunters’ meteoric ascendance than its powerful story. In today’s world, cultural boundaries are more porous than ever, and the rise in popularity of South Korean culture over the past few decades has been so extraordinary that there is even a dedicated term for it: hallyu (the Korean Wave), which encompasses not only music, film, and television but also beauty and style. K-pop groups like BTS and BLACKPINK regularly dominate the charts, and it has already been several years since Bong Joon Ho’s masterpiece Parasite (2019) made history by becoming the first non-English-language film to win Best Picture at the Oscars. More recently, Hwang Dong-hyuk’s thriller Squid Game (2021–25) has become Netflix’s most popular series of all time.

As with Derpy—whose outwardly curved fangs, exaggerated eyes, electric-blue fur, and unexpectedly sweet demeanor turn him into more than the sum of his parts—the charms of KPop Demon Hunters are rooted in a precision that sets the film apart from its peers. This meticulousness extends to HUNTR/X—including the way the members don’t wear any makeup in private, and how differently each of them moves—as well as to visual flourishes throughout the movie, including blink-and-you’ll-miss-it glimpses of diegetic fan art. Listen to any of the songs (or watch their accompanying choreography) and you’ll notice the same attention to detail. HUNTR/X’s oeuvre, while distinctly poppy, speaks explicitly to the story, acting more like traditional musical-theater numbers than mainstream hits, to the point that certain motifs are woven into multiple songs. The Saja Boys’ material is also revealing of character: despite being undeniable earworms, their songs lack the same sense of yearning and emotional depth. Even the music’s provenance nods to the degree of care that was taken in executing each aspect of the film. The artists involved in the soundtrack are responsible for hits by BTS, BLACKPINK, and BIGBANG, while K-pop royalty Jeongyeon, Jihyo, and Chaeyoung (members of the girl group TWICE) sing over the end credits.

All of this effort serves to bridge a cultural divide. KPop Demon Hunters is not technically a Korean movie; it is an English-language film produced and distributed by American studios. But the major trait by which it distinguishes itself is an inherent “Korean-ness.” As with its central character, it’s easy to look at the film and attempt to define it in binary terms, but the way in which Kang and Appelhans deal with the theme of identity, both in the film’s text and in its construction, is surprisingly subtle. KPop Demon Hunters is set in Korea, and specific landmarks such as Namsan Tower and the Naksan fortress-wall trail are highlighted throughout, but they are not treated as anything out of the ordinary. Myriad other details reward at least a passing familiarity with South Korean culture, from the depiction of irworobongdo (a traditional Korean folding screen that depicts a sun, a moon, and mountain peaks) in HUNTR/X’s stage setup to the fact that the double meaning embedded in the Saja Boys’ name mirrors the dual nature of the group itself (the public understands saja to mean “lion,” but the word also evokes a figure representing death in Korean folklore). Elsewhere, there’s a meta wink in the choice to score Rumi and Jinu’s first meeting with MeloMance’s “Love, Maybe,” a song previously featured in the K-drama Business Proposal (2022), also starring Ahn. All of these particulars enrich the story without excluding anyone who might not catch them. The theme of what it means to be Korean is part of the film’s larger metatextual fabric as opposed to a driving narrative force or something that needs to be treated as a novelty.

As plain as that fact may seem, it’s one of two major fronts on which the film moves the cultural needle. KPop Demon Hunters joins a class of recent Asian diasporic cinema that centers on navigating split identities—The Farewell (2019), Minari (2020), Past Lives (2023), Dìdi (2024), and, most notably, the similarly pop-focused Turning Red (2022)—while continuing to push the boundaries of how that multicultural reality is addressed. The emotional thrust of KPop Demon Hunters is Rumi’s struggle with being half human, half demon. Likewise, Mira’s and Zoey’s respective backgrounds are stated at the story’s outset (Mira, who comes from wealth, has a seemingly contentious relationship with her family, while Zoey wrestles with her perceived dual identity as a Korean American) and form a foundation for their rapport with Rumi rather than serving as the be-all and end-all of who they are. What’s more important is how their bonds manifest, including in their shared enthusiasm for snacks and spending time on the couch, and in their support of one another’s songwriting.

The other way in which KPop Demon Hunters breaks new ground is through pure visual style. In yet another instance of the filmmakers combining seemingly dichotomous elements, KPop Demon Hunters brings 2D anime aesthetics, ranging from character designs and expressions to impact and smear frames, into a 3D space. All of the most successful examples of 2D anime being converted into 3D—Stand by Me Doraemon (2014), Lupin III: The First (2019), and New Dimension! Crayon Shin-chan the Movie: Battle of Supernatural Powers ~Flying Sushi~ (2023)—retain a level of fluid cartoonishness rather than rigid photorealism and benefit from adapting material that has already been pushed toward stylistic extremes. Likewise, the animation in KPop Demon Hunters is at its best and most memorable when it cuts loose. Early in the film, as the girls take on a group of demons on a private plane, the cabin interior warps in order to showcase the action. So do the characters themselves, as arms and legs transform into a Hydra-like multitude of boneless, flesh-toned smears. Later, in one of the film’s standout sequences, Zoey gives the infamously randy wolf from Tex Avery’s Red Hot Riding Hood (1943) a run for his money: During a first encounter with the Saja Boys, Zoey’s eyes turn into hearts, then a pair of six-pack abs, then corncobs. When the boy band’s flexing and posing causes a button to pop off of one of their shirts, it lands as pats of butter on Zoey’s corn-shaped eyes and, in combination with her furious blushing, prompts an avalanche of popcorn that Mira wastes no time in eating.

Ultimately, the feat that Kang and Appelhans have achieved mirrors Rumi’s journey: in the film’s climax, Rumi comes to accept herself as she is—not as someone with a split identity but as her own person—and reconciles with her chosen family. KPop Demon Hunters distinguishes itself with that same ethos; it never feels torn in two, nor does it ever feel anything but assured in its execution. And like HUNTR/X, Kang and Appelhans have harnessed their art form to create magic. All of the glimmering facets of the movie build on one another, their pleasures running the gamut from big to small, until there’s no denying the film’s presence. It’s the blue tiger on viewers’ metaphorical balcony—impossible to ignore, easy to love, and one of a kind.