‘KPop Demon Hunters’ Netflix Review: An Undercooked Story Bolstered By Great Animation

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Musicals come in all shapes and sizes. You have the regular ones where there’s a narrative that’s furthered by songs, which are either sung by the actors or by playback singers. They can be in the live-action or animated format. Then there are concert films, which are essentially documentaries of the star’s live performances that are juxtaposed with some behind-the-scenes tidbits in order to underscore the effort, both physical and psychological, that is needed to pull off these worldwide tours. And then there are what I call album movies, which are made with the sole purpose of advertising a new song (or songs), and their narrative is wafer-thin so as to not distract viewers from the product that’s being sold. The entire Trolls franchise has consistently been used to promote Justin Timberlake’s latest songs. Jennifer Lopez’s This Is Me… Now: A Love Story was labeled as a “visual accompaniment” to her album of the same name. K-Pop Demon Hunters is practically no different, but with its jaw-dropping animation, it does try to stand out from the crowd. Does it succeed? Let’s find out.

Maggie Kang and Chris Appelhans’ K-Pop Demon Hunters tells the story of a band named Huntrix—which is composed of Rumi, Mira, and Zoey—that is responsible for maintaining the veil between the underworld and the mortal realm, called the Honmoon, with their songs. Since the 17th century, the demons, led by their king, Gwi-Ma, have been trying to steal the souls of human beings and become powerful enough to rule over the world. But three singers with superpowers used their divine voices to create a barrier between Gwi-Ma’s domain and the surface-dwellers. This shield has to be diligently maintained by each generation of Hunters until it becomes permanent, i.e., the Golden Honmoon. And while Rumi, Mira, and Zoey are really close to achieving that feat, their efforts are jeopardized by the rise of a rival band called the Saja Boys. Of course, they aren’t a “normal” group of singers; they’ve actually been sent by Gwi-Ma, because he knows that if Huntrix’s fan base becomes shaky, they won’t be powerful enough to stop his ascension. However, a budding romance between Rumi and Jinu (the lead singer of Saja Boys) holds the potential to defeat the demon king if it doesn’t break up Huntrix first.

It’s astonishing that K-Pop Demon Hunters feels so undercooked despite having four writers—Danya Jimenez, Hannah McMechan, Maggie Kang, and Chris Appelhans—working on it. It’s sort of stuck between being an endorsement of the culture surrounding K-pop and questioning the fact that that very culture keeps its idols from functioning like natural human beings. So, while you do see the film highlighting how fans deify these singers and how said singers dedicate their whole persona to “protecting” their fandom, you also get to see an attempt at critiquing how suffocating and brittle this dynamic is. The whole subplot about hiding one’s true identity—represented by literal marks on the body—in order to maintain this image of “purity” seems like a swipe at the homophobia that plagues K-Pop. But it isn’t deep enough to derive any true meaning from, probably because of a fear of angering “true fans” of K-Pop. The central trio supposedly have this unbreakable bond, which reflects the sisterhood of real-life K-pop bands. However, the movie never really tries to peel back their carefully constructed personas, thereby making it seem like their public and private activities are one and the same. The writers create plenty of opportunities to dig into the characters’ familial ties—to be honest, a lot of hoopla is made about one particular idol’s demonic past—but the way that’s ignored by the time the film reaches its third act is baffling.

What truly saves K-Pop Demon Hunters from being a messy bore is its animation, though. Appelhans, Kang, and the hugely talented animation team apply the style that has been popularized by movies like Into the Spider-Verse, Entergalactic, Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, The Mitchells vs. The Machines, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem, and Turning Red and create a visual spectacle. The characters are so expressive that you almost forget that their personalities are so superficial. The musical sequences are so vibrant and kinetic that you don’t really mind the fact that the songs aren’t as catchy as the film claims they are (hot take: 4*TOWN’s songs are better). The action sequences are hypnotic and dynamic enough to make you forget that they lack any emotional heft. On top of that, there are quite a few visual gags that are bubbling with originality, e.g., the fan who has an endless supply of t-shirts, the popcorn abs, and the shenanigans of the spirit-tiger and its three-eyed magpie buddy. Which makes me think that I’m being too hard on the movie. I mean, it’s enjoyable and palatable enough for everyone. However, I think that’s the attitude that keeps good movies from being great. While there’s no doubt that the animators have knocked it out of the park, there’s no doubt that the writers needed to do better to allow the film to stand tall amongst its peers.

K-Pop Demon Hunters’ voice cast is stacked. Arden Cho, as Rumi, has to do most of the heavy lifting, and she absolutely kills it (for reasons I can’t delve into without spoiling the film). May Hong, as Mira, is supposed to be the “emo” of the group, but she is too soft around the edges to be provocative. Ji-young Yoo effectively portrays Zoey’s people-pleasing nature. Ahn Hyo-seop, as Jinu, is oddly soothing, but he isn’t allowed to explore his character’s complexity for reasons that I can’t quite wrap my head around. The legendary Yunjim Kim has such a nothingburger role that it’s kind of infuriating. I mean, why would you get the star of shows like Ms. Ma, Nemesis, Mistresses, and Lost and hardly give her any lines? What’s up with that? The same can be said about Daniel Dae Kim, Byung-hun Lee, and Ken Jeong. These three are household names, for crying out loud. And you give them… nothing? Sure, you can say that the movie is not about them. But then, what’s the point of hiring great actors if you don’t utilize their talents properly? Nowadays, all these anti-art production companies are pushing for A.I. voices to replace real voice actors in order to supposedly save money. If filmmakers keep wasting their budget like this, they’ll have no one but themselves to blame when their jobs are replaced by A.I. “experts.”

I was genuinely excited about K-Pop Demon Hunters, but now I’m just disappointed. I think I wouldn’t have been feeling this way if the film was just a straight-up jukebox musical produced to feature Twice’s latest number. But, as I watched the movie, I saw its potential to be something more. I saw that it was trying to talk about the parasocial relationship between fans and idols, the “straightness” that’s imposed upon these stars, and how these global icons are deprived of anything that hints at their unique personality. And then the way it walked back on all of those ideas just rubbed me the wrong way. Who knows? Maybe, initially, the plan was to comment on K-pop culture under the disguise of telling a story about demons and hunters. Then some studio executives thought that they shouldn’t make this product “too edgy” because they might end up angering “fans.” That’s how we got this generic story that’s barely bolstered by the amazing animators who have worked on this project. If that sounds like your thing, please, feel free to give K-Pop Demon Hunters a try. If not, just go and watch Turning Red.



 

Pramit Chatterjee
Pramit Chatterjee
Pramit loves to write about movies, television shows, short films, and basically anything that emerges from the world of entertainment. He occasionally talks to people, and judges them on the basis of their love for Edgar Wright, Ryan Gosling, Keanu Reeves, and the best television series ever made, Dark.

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