Tuesday, July 29, 2025

Further Discussions on KPOP DEMON HUNTERS- An Interview with Ms. Mayako Shibagaki-Liu

  



This is an interview text with Ms. Mayako Shibagaki-Liu, a Ph. D. candidate in History and East Asian Languages Program at Harvard University.  She is a graduate of International Chrisitan University, Japan, and holds a MA from Regional Studies- East Asia at Harvard University.  She is currently working on a Ph. D. dissertation examining wartime tourism in colonial Korea.  She has also been involved in K-pop dance training and her love for K-pop has been one of the motivating forces for her commitment to studying Korean history and culture.

This interview was conducted on July 8, 2025. It has been edited and shortened for clarity and economy. The contents of this interview are copyrighted to Ms. Mayako Shibagaki-Liu and Professor Kyu Hyun Kim. Any reproduction of the contents therein without the explicit consent of Ms. Shibagaki-Liu will be considered a breach of copyright laws as defined by the United States court system.   “K” refers to Kim and “MS” for Ms. Shibagaki-Liu throughout the text below.  

  K: Thank you so much for agreeing to this discussion.   I would just like to talk about Kpop Demon Hunters [abbreviated to KDH] this time.   Have you checked out my review?

MS: Of course!  Should we just use English or a mixture of English and Korean or even of English, Korean and Japanese? [Laughter]  

K: Let’s use English for this particular one, although we would definitely want to write about the movie or related issues in Korean and Japanese as well. OK, here goes.  I honestly did not expect much before I decided to delve into KDH. 

MS: Me neither!

K: What was your initial response to the title?

MS: Oh, something definitely cliché… like a Disney feature supposedly set in Korea. And it was like that for maybe ten minutes. But then again when the Huntr/x music came out, my view shifted.

K: Right, right.  Their song sounded like a real piece of Kpop music.  Going into the movie, I played several scenarios in my head about how this movie could go wrong.  I was not so much worried about it getting Korean culture wrong.  At best, I thought the movie would be set in some fantastical environment like a “San Fransokyo” from Big Hero Six (a film that I love, by the way).  The latter takes a view that the world of Japanese animé is sort of merged into the United States (specifically Northern California), or that Japanese Americans are in fact no different from the “Japanese.”  So, I thought KDH would include select elements of Korean culture but would be set in a sort of globalized fantasy landscape.  I was wrong!  The movie is entirely set in Korea, and specifically Seoul.  Another big surprise was, of course, I did not expect those behind KDH to get Kpop “right.”

MS: Absolutely!  The protagonists Rumi and Jinu have these character traits, arcs and motivations that are authentically those of Kpop artists.  That was quite amazing that the producers and creative staff actually understood this!

K: Japanese animation has a well-respected tradition of casting characters whose identities are hybrid, in-between beings.  However, the utterly straightforward, non-compromising way KDH dealt with this issue, the way characters expressed this conflict of those traversing two different, even antagonistic worlds, through their music and bodily performances, I thought was unmistakably Korean.

K: Let’s talk about the elements of KDH that were particularly interesting or noteworthy.

MS: I was really impressed by the character designs, by which I mean the ways they look, specifically the ways in which their bodies move, their dances are designed, their costumes are crafted.  I do not know if it is obvious to those unfamiliar with Kpop that Saja Boy’s Your Idol getup is, by Kpop standards, neither exaggerated nor off-putting: how their “supernatural” action in fact closely hues to a real-life Kpop performance.  Saja Boy’s gat (the yangban hat), golden glowing eyes, their heavy boots, clawed hands, all these could easily be a real-life Kpop boy group’s “looks” during the latter’s “comeback” performance.  By the way, I absolutely agree with your point in the review that the design aspects of the Huntr/x and Saja Boys performance, say, how choreography and costumes were constructed, could have been great resources to draw on in any future iteration of KDH.

K: Yes, I would for one have loved to see the details of how Jinu put together Saja Boys, how he selected members, how he “trained” them, and so on. 

K: Could you talk about how KDH’s take on Huntr/x and Saja Boys fundamentally differ from the American animation films and musical films?

MS: KDH is clearly aware of how Kpop music is performative, and that there are layers of mediatization in its dissemination and reception, live performances, TV broadcasts, short snippets of video, and so on. For how these layers of mediatization are concretely depicted in a Kpop music video, you could check out IVE’s I AM. The musical performances themselves are identifiable as “Kpop” quite aside from the functions they serve as “songs” in a musical. 


 


K: As I wrote in the review, “Free” and “Your Idol” are my favorite songs.  I was actually surprised by “Free,” because, while it appeared to follow the convention of “characters breaking out into a song” in an American musical, it also totally made sense as a duet performance during a Kpop concert, something that Taeyang and Park Bom would sing together during the heyday of Big Bang/2NE1.  And “Your Idol,” man…

MS: I want to see a dance performance video for “Your Idol” by Saja Boys!

K: YES!   

MS: “What It Sounds Like” in particular reminds me how top-tier kpop songs have such incredibly powerful lyrics, which, as you wrote in the review, do not avoid the pain, suffering and dilemmas faced by the artists and the world. 

K: Absolutely. I do not want to hear people yammering about how “shallow” Kpop is anymore.   How “deep” is an average American sports game, a Country & Western song, or a rehashed Disney feature? 

MS: I also thought that “Soda Pop” and “Your Idol” both made sense as Kpop songs designed by demons [Laughter].  They are addictive, alluring and directly address the desire for the listeners to completely focus on the artists. 

K: If there was one genius idea that might have struck those unfamiliar with Kpop as potentially silly or a form of inside joke, it was the “debuting” of a demon boy group.

MS: [Laughter]. Oh my God, truly brilliant!  But taking this idea seriously and actually coming up with a great boy group based on it is where I think the makers of KDH show their real understanding of what Kpop is. Such seductive coevality of light fun and expressions of the dark side in the same personalities— Big Bang’s “Fantastic Baby” followed by “Monster,” to cite only one of numerous such examples— has always been a part of Kpop music from the very beginning.  


K: More thoughts on the choreography?  

MS: KDH drew the characters in such ways that even Saja Boys standing in certain poses emulate and build on the performative strengths of real-life Kpop artists. So it is not just the exciting and precise movements, known as kalgunmu (group dance so well coordinated that it cuts like a blade)— although Saja Boys certainly show an excellent example of that template—, but the whole package.  Huntr/x’s choreography, on the other hand, shows a lot of flowing into and out of each member’s space, and stresses the relationality of the members, similar to IVE’s dance moves.   This was very noticeable in the scenes illustrating rehearsals for “Golden.”

K: That is very illuminating. I might prefer Saja Boys choreography because there are five members, rather than three for Huntr/x.  As we have complained about this many times, Kpop groups usually have too many members.  There are of course commercial and historical reasons for this tendency.

MS: What the Japanese model of idol performance calls oshi-katsu (“bias stanning”) is also predicated on maintaining a certain maximum number of idol members.  Some Kpop groups still operate in this mold but few of the current top-tier girl’s groups exclusively rely on this strategy. They of course still talk a lot about their fandom.  But the oshi-katsu mode must sustain the illusion of a fan in a close, personal relationship with an artist he or she (often he) “stans.” I am not sure whether the top-tier, globally successful kpop girl groups really feel a need to continue to feed this fantasy.  However, KDH’s denouement hints at the kind of fans that the filmmakers think as healthy and sustaining: young girls who look up to the Huntr/x as possible role models.  And this is of course replicated in real life among the young female fan demographic (and their parents). 

 


K: I thought one of the most interesting scenes in the movie was one in which Rumi asks one of the demons “Are you also Gwima’s prisoner?” 

MS: Yes.  And Rumi rejects the “industry protocol” in the end.  The new Honmoon she creates metaphorically changes the way the industry operates, if we consider Gwima as a company honcho exploiting both artists and consumers.

K: Hmm, anybody specific comes to mind?  [Laughter] 

K: KHD is, in so many ways, a good movie to break down the prejudices held by both Koreans and non-Koreans, that Kpop must assume certain specific Korean forms or must show specific Korean sentiments.  The top-tier Kpop really does not aspire to do that.  Anyone, of any gender, ethnicity and culture could express him/her/themselves through Kpop.  Otherwise it would not enjoy such a global influence.

MS: I wonder if you find some parallel between the way KDH’s characters and Japanese anime characters move away from ethnic/gender specifications.

K: There are some parallels of course.  But it is important to remember that Kpop, despite the legitimate accusations of chauvinism and lack of sensitivity lobbed at it, has already been doing this with real-life groups and artists, that this is not something an animated feature could uniquely bring to the table.  You can draw a character’s hair purple, scarlet red: make her skin tone white to brown to black: make her eye colors hazel, green or jet-black.  There are already, breathing, living Kpop artists who embody those characteristics: you do not need paintbrush or CGI adjustments to “draw” them at all.  

MS: The notion that Kpop was selling “fantasy” was used by many to criticize the artform as if there is something wrong with this very notion. But this fantasy is also “real,” because it has been expressed through the concrete workings of the bodies of the performers.  This I think is one of the reasons why the music in KDH is so powerful and feels “different.”  It is deeply tied to the corporeal expressions of the subjectivity of the performers.  It is never just “ear candy.”  People, even really young viewers, those who know nothing about Korea, nor Korean language, can sense the power of this mode of expression.

K: And that endows an unusually powerful conviction to the movie’s premise, that music is the ultimate tool to banish demons, to heal and suture the tears and wounds of the world.

MS: Yes, but in a way, Jinu is reminiscent of a supremely talented Kpop singer, having to withstand a trainee life without any sense of reassurance for many years (four hundred years in his case!), then becomes truly successful, only to doubt his own authenticity as an artist.    

K: I would really think that KDH should open up new pathways for the top-tier Kpop groups to expand their repertoire and agendas.  At the very least, they should just perform “Golden” and other songs during their concerts.

MS: Absolutely!  Kpop is one of the few sites in which such radical breakdown of the border between “fantasy” and “reality” could take place in a totally “naturalized” manner.  The paths toward multi-layered collaboration are literally too numerous to even think about!

K: My hope is that the “regular” Kpop fans do not denounce or denigrate KDH arguing that the groups in it are not “real.”  Such an attitude, I feel, does not understand, as you so greatly put, the strengths of Kpop: why it is so powerful in the first place.

K: To summarize, Rumi and Jinu were especially wonderful as both performers and animated characters, not just because they were well designed and acted, but also because they accurately captured and represented the qualities in Kpop to which we are attracted.  Can you imagine the kind of movie that consign such talented and massively hard-working Kpop singers to the delivery of sermons about things like “inner beauty?”  The level of condescension would be unimaginable.

MS: We love Kpop so much, it is inevitable that we feel there are so much more about the premise, characters and the world-view of KHD that could have been realized.  Still, I am very happy that the overall design of this film paid such a close attention to the world of Kpop, instead of simply taking the latter as a cultural overlay.  The movie is really, really about Kpop.  For me that is the singular achievement of this film.  And in the process of enticing so many global viewers, it actually manages to showcase the strengths of Kpop to those who had not been aware of them. 

K: Thank you so much for the interview! I feel that we have by no means exhausted what we could talk about KDH.

MS: Thanks Professor Kim!  No, we have not for sure. I would welcome another opportunity to delve into many issues we have barely touched upon, using the KDH phenomenon as a gateway.  

 

Thursday, July 3, 2025

KPOP DEMON HUNTERS (2025)- Our Faults and Fears Cannot Remain Hidden

KPop Demon Hunters (United States, 2025). A Sony Pictures Entertainment/Creative BC/Columbia Pictures Co-Production, a Netflix Release. Directors: Chris Appelhans, Maggie Kang. Writers: Danya Jimenez, Hannah McMehan, Maggie Kang, Chris Appelhans. Cinematographer: Gary H. Lee. Music: Marcelo Zarvos. CAST: Arden Cho (Rumi), Mary Hong (Mira), Yoo Ji-young (Zoey), Ahn Hyo-seop (Jinu), Ken Jeong (Bobby), Lee Byung-Heon (Gwima), Kim Yun-jin (Celine), Daniel Dae Kim (Doctor Han). 

Note: I am scheduling a discussion of this runaway Netflix hit with our go-to k-pop specialist, Ms. Mayako Shibagaki-Liu, currently a Ph.D. candidate specializing in Korean History at Harvard University.  I will try to suggest a few salient points of interest throughout this review which will then be expanded further in the discussion with Dr. Shibagaki-Liu.

If you are reasonably familiar with the K-pop scenes as well as the global ascendancy of the Korean popular culture as I have been in the last two decades or so, a title like KPop Demon Hunters (stylized as “KPop” instead of “Kpop” but whatever) has a certain ring of inevitability.  Inundated with case studies such as an unassuming science fiction-themed Korean-language stage musical, Maybe Happy Ending, being adapted into an English-language Broadway musical and sweeping up six Tony Awards in 2025, no one can dispute the ability of the Korean “cultural template,” however you define it, to combine drama and music in such a way that the final product could massively appeal to a large swath of global consumer population.

KPop Demon Hunters, produced by Sony’s animation studios currently best known for the Spider-Verse series (but also behind Smurf and Angry Bird films), takes as its premise an idea that many young K-pop fans probably fantasized about and on which some had possibly written fan fictions: that your favorite K-pop girl group secretly moonlights as kick-ass female warriors defending the entire world (represented by swooning, crying and cover-dancing K-pop fans of all ages, ethnicities and genders) from an apocalyptic demon invasion.  

The triad of heroines, Rumi, Zoey and Mira, members of the group Huntr/x, are presented in a prologue as spiritual descendants of shamans, whose vocal performances generate a shimmering force field called Honmoon (魂門, as in a “spiritual gate?”) protecting the unsuspecting masses from soul-devouring demons. The demons themselves are designed in an American animation-like way to resemble over-decorated, toothy “goblins” (dokkaebi, an analogue of the Japanese oni), but in Korean subtitles are referred to as angnyeong, 悪霊 “evil spirits,” not exactly the same thing, but never mind. The central antagonist of the film is a big boss demon called Gwima (鬼魔, not the most creative name), whose amorphous, living-flame countenance reminds me of the Master Control Program in the original Tron, skillfully voiced by Lee Byung-heon (in both English and Korean). However, the film’s crucial Darth Vader figure, a tragic supervillain, is Jinu (voiced by the Korean-Canadian actor Ahn Hyo-seop, Netflix’s Business Proposal), a Joseon dynasty minstrel who had become Gwima’s top underling.  It is the growing bond between the courageous but vulnerable Rumi and the outwardly nonchalant but internally tormented Jinu that unexpectedly captures a viewer’s heart and serves as a glue that holds together the film’s disparate generic elements and shifting tonalities.



To its credit, KPop Demon Hunter’s appeals have multiple layers, and they are, for the most part, handled very well. To be sure, the feature dutifully contains those elements seemingly catering to the toddler/preteen demographic that could be cringe-inducing for those outside the pen: others just feel like they come with the territory of a US-produced feature animation. There are requisite Tik-Tok-friendly depictions of fan activism, and funny, cute moments of the Huntr/x goofing around, referencing deformé aesthetics of Japanese manga/animation as well as audio-visual zinger-dominated American humor.  

Not really a fan of either style, I wish there were perhaps twenty-per-cent less of these materials and more of anthropological explorations of the urban Seoul life and technical and cultural sides of the k-pop scenes (how about make-up artists or fashion coordinators as meaningful characters?), although admittedly there are more of the latter in this feature than in all of the other Korea-set Hollywood genre films combined.   

Despite these caveats, I was pleasantly surprised to see KPop Demon Hunters earnestly attempting to, without deviating too much from its predictably genre-bound plot points and setups, explore the themes germane to k-pop as an artform and an industry. KPop Demon Hunters transforms the pressure to maintain the façade of perfection that its characters are burdened with into one of its themes. Rumi’s character in particular goes through a persuasive arc of self-discovery.  She first suspects that the demons she had been fighting might not be so “inhuman” as she had been told, and then that her identity as a demon hunter is an elaborate fabrication that does not reflect who she really is.


As Rumi’s mentor Celine at one point pleads to her, “our faults and fears must never be seen.”  K-pop artists who so often sing about self-love and realization of their subjectivities, “doing your own thing no matter what others say,” could feel that they are not allowed to show to the world who they really are, hiding their “faults and fears” from the public. In this regard, Rumi’s tentative romance with Jinu feels not unlike a camouflaged tryst between a real-life male and female k-pop artist hiding from both their companies and fans (who can be cruel and censorious beneath their mantra of “love” for their "stans"). 

Rumi’s ultimate rejection of this false sense of duty (in substance a form of subservience to the industrial capital and the consumer-fanbase) thus carries a resonance that goes beyond a plot point.  It would have been interesting if KPop Demon Hunters further explored this dark side of fandom, developing a character or characters whose all-consuming adoration for the Huntr/x or the demon boy group Saja Boys allow Gwima to plunder the negative psychological energy of dehumanizing obsession and entitlement to exploit the artists for their own addictive pleasure.  Of course, this might have been considered too downbeat or disturbing for a movie aspiring to be a clean-cut, uplifting entertainment. 

Just as Ryan Coogler’s Sinners, another unexpectedly thoughtful recent hit, is less of a horror film than a musical, KPop Demon is at heart a musical. Action sequences are reasonably well done but are not special.  For me, these demon-fighting activities felt like obligatory connecting tissues between musical numbers, rather than the other way. Indeed, KDH’s real historical value may lie in its status as the first global K-pop-themed musical produced by those who clearly get what kpop is all about, rather than by those who want to ride the latter’s coattails while seeing it only as a “fad” or a factory churning out exploitable commodities.   


The direction and mises-en-scenes for k-pop musical numbers in the film are impeccably orchestrated to reflect the stylistics and affective strategies of the videos generated by k-pop labels and TV station music programs such as Inkigayo and Music Bank. The notion of a male demon k-pop band, Saja Boys (saja could stand for “lion” 獅子, “dead person” 死者 or “emissary” 使者 respectively), is never played for laughs, despite the expected “cartoonish” exaggerations of their ripped physique and “cool” personalities.  Even better, the musical numbers feel organically tied to the dilemmas, aspirations and inner turmoil of the characters,  precisely in the ways that the first-rank k-pop songs and music videos reflect those of their artists.  As many who read this review would already know, BTS’s Black Swan is not a song about partying or even about having a positive outlook in life: it is about an artist’s fear of losing his creative voice. There are a lot of authentic expressions of self-reflection including honest reckonings of self-doubt, suffering and misdirected hate in k-pop for those who have ears to listen to them.

It helps a lot that the production team did not stint on locating the right level of vocal (singing) talents for musical performances of Huntr/x and Saja Boys. Many of these talents had worked with or for real-life kpop teams and production companies: Ejae (Kim Eun-jae), Rumi’s singing voice, is a former SM Entertainment trainee and has written for Red Velvet (“Pscyho”), Twice (“Flow Like Waves,” etc.), Aespa (“Drama”) KARD and NMIXX, among other groups.  Jinu’s singing voice is done by Andrew Choi (Choi Seung-hyun), another SM Entertainment veteran who had contributed to the works of DAY6, Taemin and Monsta X. Audrey Nuna and Rei Ami sing for Mira and Zoey, respectively, and NeckWAV, SamUILLee, Danny Chung (who works for Teddy Park’s Black Label) and Kevin Woo, a former member of the idol group U-KISS (2008-2017), represent Saja Boys.  


Given this impressive collection of vocal talents, it is not altogether surprising that the musical numbers come across much less like those featured in live Hollywood musicals or feature animations than real-life k-pop music videos or stage performances. The songs assigned to Huntr/x and Saja Boys sound very much like second- and third-generation k-pop music, less experimental (“weird”) and more strongly anthemic. This makes sense if one considers the film’s gestation period, around five to six years. It was being put together as a project at the time when main k-pop references were presumably Twice, Blackpink and BTS, just having reached or about to reach the zenith of their global popularity.  My favorite among the songs would be Rumi and Jinu’s duet “Free,” heartfelt, powerful and unencumbered by an obligation to address plot mechanics or the background spectacle.  But even Saja Boy’s “Your Idol” is presented as if it were a “comeback” tune by a real-life A-list k-pop group such as Ateez or Stray Kids, its seductive and vampiric lyrics seamlessly integrated into their super-cool “dark” stylistics.  

As a flame-breathing geezer DIVE, I cannot help but note (and I am by no means the only one who noticed this) that Huntr/x’s signature song “Golden” sounds very similar to IVE’s “I AM” (especially coming after their inside-airplane battle with demons that open the movie, in what I can only assume is an homage to the I AM MV), and that their song of reconciliation “What It Sounds Like” has the refrain structure almost identical to that of IVE’s “All Night,” itself a reappropriation of Icona Pop’s 2013 song. I find these similarities interesting or telling rather than concerning, but as a DIVE I hope they serve to herd some global non-k-pop fans toward IVE’s stupendous musical accomplishments (and how much their music and performances follow the “royal path” of k-pop, as the critic Kim Do-heon has pretty much admitted during his discussion of KDH’s success with other insider-critics).     



Finally, one note about the film’s representation and repackaging of “Korean culture:” what KPop Demon Hunters does exceptionally well is to reinvent certain aesthetic features of the traditional Korean culture— a direct incorporation of decorative “patterns” (munyang 文様) into the film’s premise, for example— for the global consumer base.  Thank God it does not do something stupid like harping on the cuisinary superpower of kimchi.  The producer’s skills and good tastes are best exemplified in the designs of the obligatory cute-animal characters, in this case familiars/messengers of Jinu, a blue tiger who probably looks to non-Koreans like a bizarre hybrid between Chesshire Cat and My Neighbor Totoro’s Catbus, and six-eyed magpie wearing a miniature yangban hat. They are obviously inspired by a subgenre of traditional Korean paintings featuring a tiger and a magpie, jakhodo 鵲虎圖. They beautifully capture the goofily humorous, earthily charming qualities of these folk paintings, while providing necessary doses of otherworldliness: I even loved the tiger’s method of teleportation, slowly elevating itself out of, or submerging into, a glowing portal in the floor.

KPop Demon Hunters is far from being the final word on a globally accessible, high-quality content— cinema, musical theater, TV drama, animation, webtoon/manhwa, all of which could be creatively cross-bred with one another— focused on the k-pop experience.  Even as a fantasy-musical blend, KDH, as competent and ingenious as it is, does not exhaustively mine the potentials of its premise.  However, this is a genuinely promising start: I hope that the undisputed and clearly well-deserved success of KDH will pave the way for more adventurous and risk-taking but equally sincere and convincing projects involving k-pop in the future.