By Dori Berman and Hayley Goldberg, Staff Writer
In an era when mass entertainment media is plagued by a severe lack of originality, Disney sequels, live-action remakes and artificial intelligence, audiences are left craving something fresh and genuine. Netflix originals have been especially lackluster, with once-popular movies and shows falling into the pits of obscurity. Who cares about Happy Gilmore 2, and do we really need a third season of Squid Game? No one wants content filled with sameness and repetitive slop; what we really need is something bold and daring.
As I was once again mourning the loss of my childhood after watching yet another live-action remake that sucked the life out of the original film, I stumbled upon KPop Demon Hunters. Yes, I too was initially skeptical of the title. However, when I gave it a shot, I discovered a film bursting to the brim with color and originality. Its 99% audience score on Rotten Tomatoes proved to be well-deserved, attesting to the vibrant 2D-3D hybrid animation, compelling cast of characters and ear-catching K-pop-inspired musical soundtrack that make up this 96-minute film.
The film puts such a pleasant spin on traditional storytelling and character archetypes, taking age-old narratives and adding a fresh coat of paint. The story follows a K-pop girl group known as Huntrix. During the day, they perform elaborate concerts for their adoring fans, but they moonlight as demon hunters, fighting to protect the Honmoon, or “soul gate” in English — a magical barrier that was established by ancient demon hunters. Using the power of song, their role is to trap and seal away the leader of the demons, Gwi-Ma, and his soul-eating demon army. Generation after generation, three women are chosen to inherit the powers of the demon hunters. They rise as musicians and girl groups, slaying the demons that manage to break through the barrier with their songs and musical connections with their fans.
This brings us to the modern day, and the start of the story of Rumi, Mira and Zoey, the three main characters of the film, and the current group of demon hunters. Through sold-out concerts and midnight battles, the girls are closer than any other past group to achieving a “golden Honmoon,” permanently sealing the soul gate, forever trapping the demons and saving humanity. In order to once and for all end the centuries-long battle with the demons, Rumi decides to cancel Huntrix’s well-deserved planned break and release their new single, “Golden.”
Everything should have gone smoothly: they release the song, which reaches hundreds of thousands of fans and connects their souls, and the Honmoon seals. Unfortunately, things did not pan out as they were supposed to due to patterns on Rumi’s skin starting to affect her internally. The patterns come from Gwi-Ma, both the ruler of the demons, and the physical manifestation of internalized shame. It is later revealed that Rumi’s mother, one of the previous generation’s demon hunters, fell in love with a demon and gave birth to Rumi, before passing away shortly afterward.
Rumi was adopted by another member of the previous generation’s demon hunters, Celine. She promised to protect Rumi, the one thing Rumi’s mother, her friend, left behind. However, it was hard for Celine to come to terms with Rumi’s patterns, leading to her pushing Rumi to hide her demon heritage. Highlighting one of the film’s themes of intergenerational trauma, the patterns etched into her skin not only represent her own shame, but also the burdens of the past.
Her entire life, Rumi has to grapple with the fact that half of her is the very thing that she is meant to destroy. The closer the girls get to sealing the Honmoon, the more Rumi pushes herself, causing her patterns to spread, eventually reaching the one part of her body that she needs to finally complete the Honmoon — her voice. Through this visual metaphor of physical patterns, the film conveys its message about behavioral patterns and how it is so easy to fall into self-destructive behaviors, even when you know these behaviors can inflict damage on yourself and those around you.
For Rumi, her shame, her patterns, is her lack of trust in her friends. The fear that if she were to reveal her true identity to them, that they would abandon her. She keeps falling back into concealing herself, even when she knows that keeping this secret is detrimental not just to herself but to the Honmoon as well. Many can relate to Rumi’s tendency of falling into certain patterns even when they are devastating because that is what is comfortable and familiar. Even when it can be self-improving, human beings fear change.
In the end, the thing that saves Rumi is not silence and isolation. It is finding someone to talk to. Someone to share her burdens with. She finds this in the character of Jinu, a full-fledged demon whom she initially despised. However through late-night meetings sharing common experiences, they form a bond that allows Rumi to feel she has a safe place to release all the shame and pain she had built up inside. She frees her voice from the patterns, allowing her to sing again. The film expertly communicates to its audience that clutching onto your suffering is counterproductive, oftentimes leading to more hurt. Sometimes all it takes is reaching out to lighten the load.
By the end of the film it takes all three girls opening up about their own struggles to finally seal the Honmoon. Rumi with her patterns, Zoey and her fear of not belonging and Mira, finally finding a family through her friends.
This movie wouldn’t be a KPop without the aspect of music. Every note and lyric is carefully crafted to represent the inner machinations behind the characters’ thoughts and actions. The music reflects everything that the characters have been feeling the entire movie. Toward the beginning of the movie is the film’s signature track, “Golden,” which has taken the internet by storm. The Huntrix are all altos, which means their voices and their registers tend to be lower. Before watching the movie, I found this hard to believe because the only thing I had heard of this song was how impossibly high it sounded. Upon watching, I realized that even the choice of higher and lower registers in the song was symbolic.
Their voices are not only Huntrix’s most prized possessions; they are also their armor. Rumi struggles with choosing between the different sides of herself, and it’s evident in her solo in “Golden.” As she is alone and exposed, and the darkest parts of herself are out in the open, she sings in her alto register, where she doesn’t have anything to prove. As she starts building the melody, she not only puts back on her jacket to cover herself, but she uses vocal acrobatics as the true mask, singing higher than her true voice. Even though she is physically covered, she is vocally exposed, preventing the truth from being revealed.
When taken at face value, KPop Demon Hunters is already phenomenal. Yet when you look deeper into the metaphors and thought processes behind the characters’ actions, it creates a whole new viewing experience, allowing younger and older audiences alike to enjoy and appreciate the film.
This is all not to say that the movie is the greatest film ever made. It is nowhere near so. The runtime is too short, and some of the characters aren’t fleshed out enough. However, this movie is certainly on the right track. Now more than ever, we as a society need more films like this one. Films that are original and gutsy, with relatable characters and messages that resonate deeply with a broader audience. Movies that prove that bold storytelling is still alive.
While not perfect, KPop Demon Hunters is certainly a gem. In an industry flooded with recycled content, it shows that cinema still has the potential to be golden.
Photo Credit: Unsplash