What It Sounds Like

The Leading Ladies, courtesy Netflix

The KPop Drop

About a month ago, on PBS Newshour, Mike Sargent, of Black Film Critics Circle, recommended the animated film KPop Demon Hunters saying “It blends K-pop, girl energy and demon-slaying. And it’s got a really fun soundtrack." You can find the PBS segment here. 

Was that his best pitch? His recommendation of 28 Years Later was more my speed, but I haven't watched it probably because, after a decade or two of zombie apocalypse as allegory for our political and social issues, I've had enough. I did, however, recently choose to watch K-Pop Demon Hunters  —once, in full, and again to scroll through to the musical segments, and then dug a little deeper to attempt to understand why it has become so compelling to so many people. 

Not only have several songs from the soundtrack reached the top of music charts, the animated feature has become the number two most watched movie, of all time, on Netflix, and may become number one soon. This accomplishment, alone, is enough to ask why it is such a phenomenon. One reason, as the film so neatly illustrates in many scenes of young fans (fandom) entranced by both Huntr/x and Saja Boys, is tweens and teens. The music is the other part —it's catchy, contemporary pop with lyrics so general that anybody can relate. These individual songs and entire soundtrack is streaming, on Youtube, on Spotify, anywhere, and this music is certainly driving more people to watch the movie. 

In 2023, my friends' 20 year old daughter, Lily, suggested that K-pop will hook me —way more than any K-drama I've watched (and I've watched a lot). But I didn't seek it out. All I thought about the K-Pop industry was that it absorbed, processed and rehashed many western popular music styles and motifs of the last 40 years to create idol machine boy bands, like BTS and girl bands, like Blackpink, and then turned it up to eleven. It's entertainment designed to addict (mostly) young people with narrative drama, beauty, fashion, choreography, hypnotic beats and catchy musical hooks. I may have even cynically compared the world of K-Pop to the wholly manufactured theater of World Wrestling Entertainment (formerly WWF).

K-Pop Demon Hunters, however, was a charming, humorous, fast moving journey that cleverly adapted stylistic flourishes from film, television, anime and music video, something we consciously or unconsciously recognize as it flies by on the screen, mixed with a big enough dose of Korean culture to make you ask, "Is this a US or Korean production?" Answer: it's American, but the story idea and co-director is Korean born Canadian Maggie Kang with plenty of Korean talent pitching in.

Its focus on sense of purpose, unity, and creativity contrasted with the hollow, manipulative and toxic vanity of the boy band. While all women band Huntr/x (nice play on huntress) might be fighting supernatural demons, the movie suggests, via Saja Boys that, in our world, demons may really be an army of abs-forward "bros." The movie's core message is self-acceptance, honesty, and the power of sticking together, but I began to wonder whether K-Pop Demon Hunters functions as a reprieve from, if not an antidote to, the rotten, cynical direction we have seen in this country and across the globe. It's possible —culture will often provide what politics cannot (this is why culture is under attack) and populist culture is influence scaled up, up, up.

Contextual Sidetrack 

If you are a fan of K-Drama, or even some of Korean films, like Parasite or Snowpiercer, you are familiar with Korean culture's class consciousness and deep distrust of those in political and corporate power. Consider that, just this year, the president of South Korea, Yoon Suk Yeol, was removed from office after the Constitutional Court voted unanimously to uphold his impeachment, following his failed attempt to impose martial law. This is a population immediately impatient with authoritarian impulses in part because of a persistent cultural memory of authoritarian dictatorship, military rule, and hardship. But don't misunderstand, the same political tricks are being used by Korea's extreme right as are being used in the United States, they just haven't worked quite as successfully.  

Music 

Much has been written about the music in K-Pop Demon Hunters. Yes, every song is good, none of it is filler. The sound, its production and emotional impact, is elevated well beyond what I would expect in an animated film. I'm not well-versed in music, so don't take my word for it. Listen to this vocal coach or that vocal coach analyze songs and singing from the Demon Hunter soundtrack. 

Spirit, Pt I

I like to compare K-Pop Demon Hunters to the 1999 hit The Matrix. It was an action movie with influential production design, fashion, score/soundtrack and CGI. Those slow-mo battle scenes in Demon Hunter have influences in visual effects first seen in The Matrix (and wire-fu). The film also blatantly referenced biblical religion —"The One" (aka savior) in Neo, there was a Judas figure, even the ship was named Nebuchadnezzar and a lead character, Trinity. The film's slick styling repackaged a handful of Judeo-Christian notions, providing audiences a familiar framework for absorbing the narrative, but ultimately there was no spiritual there, there. Given its timing at the apex of first wave Internet, it's no surprise that our cultural memory of The Matrix is stuck on red pill/blue pill, conspiracy and the nature of reality in the information age. 

K-Pop Demon Hunters also utilizes common religious, some might say spiritual, concepts, but does so with broad strokes. One of the clearest examples is character Gwi ma's fiery appearance and soul-sucking purpose which clearly represents what the West understands as the devil. Gwi ma (voiced by actor Lee Byung-hun of Squid Game, but more important, Mr. Sunshine and Iris, fame) happens to be a reversal of the Korean magwi, possibly written 마귀, which can be translated as "devil." 

Jinu, the Jeoseung Saja in a Gat. Courtesy of Netflix

For those new to Korean entertainment, a boy band with tall black hats, beads and dark "cloaks" might seem like a contemporary fashion choice, but any fan of KDrama historical series recognizes the semi-transparent, head gear as a gat (said kind of like gaht, without a hard t sound). The look, however, is a visual reference to the Jeoseung Saja, a messenger from the world of the dead. Gwi ma is the lord of the underworld and consumer of souls taken by the demons. The Saja Boys are the messengers and what better way to deliver the message than with the sugary "Soda Pop," a song whose lyrics easily shift between the girl he desires and the consumption of souls.

Contextual Sidetrack:

In South Korea, roughly 30% of the population identifies as Christian, from which over 10% identify as Catholic. Over fifty percent identify with no religion, but methods of data collection may conceal various beliefs and practices like Buddhism, shamanism, and agnosticism among a large part of the population.

Spirit, Pt II

The lead character's name, Rumi, has linguistic roots in Japan (the past colonial occupier of Korea), so it seems an unlikely choice. The mystical overtones of the movie suggests to me that her name refers to another well-known Rumi, aka Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmi, the Persian mystic poet. Is it a stretch to tie the Honmoon, a spiritual barrier created through music, to the poet's belief that music, poetry (lyrics) and dance can lead to the divine? 

Rumi, the lead singer of Huntr/x, is only one part of a triad, a principle commonly found in many spiritual conceptualizations across the ages. Conveniently, a triad of singers with different vocal ranges can create powerful musical harmonies. The best example is the song "What it Sounds Like," which brings Rumi, Mira, and Zoey (the triad) physically and harmonically together toward their triumphal establishment of the Honmoon. It is this musical finale, particularly its powerful harmonies, that brings the characters deliverance —something that could only be wished for in the earlier song "Free."

To set herself and everyone else free, Rumi unwittingly produced a new kind of Honmoon, one that we might describe as enlightened. This new Honmoon recognized that shame and concealment can be a tool of control and a destructive force to individuals and ultimately, humanity. Where Rumi's shame had been imposed on her, for simply being who she is, Jinu felt shame for his actions. Although she made the argument, earlier on, that he is more than just his "sins," the new Honmoon didn't seem to have any room for grace nor did he for self-forgiveness. There was no saving him, so Jinu sacrificed himself to free Rumi, and ultimately humanity, from their collective shame. 

Imperfect as the comparison may be, this is possibly the most Christian element of K-Pop Demon Hunters. Whether or not audiences absorb and internalize these concepts is not within my purview. I can imagine, at least, that in a time of political idolatry, when religion is used cynically by right wing politicians and media, and the clergy are quiet, that relatable characters finding purpose underpinned by spiritual values just might provide some needed support for the battles ahead.