Why You Liked … KPop Demon Hunters

I will admit to true fear when I saw Netflix was streaming KPop Demon Hunters. Would this be an animated fluffer piece with negative substance? It turns out no: the trailer was a siren’s call to a movie that has more heart than any recent Hollywood spectacle. Since some of you have my contact details and demanded I cover it, I figured I should give the people what they want. There’s a lot to get into here, but I think we need to start where it all began.

Check out the podcast version on Spotify or Apple, or watch the review on YouTube:

I’m not even really joking here. Forty years separate Rumi, Mira, and Zoey of Huntr/x from Jem and the Holograms, but their core message joins them through time. KPop Demon Hunters is a delight, a deliberately stutter-frame animation spectacle of three women who fight demons with the power of song and sword… who are also championing the right for women to be the heroes of their own story.

And make no mistake, this movie channels Jem in more ways than just its core premise. It’s very reminiscent of the old classic, and we’ll be diving deep into these parallels later—but for now, let’s celebrate the triumph of our feel-good K-pop riot, where women save the world through the power of music. It’s not all about saving the world, though: they also look forward to months of downtime on the couch, which is a message I can get behind. Beyond channelling Jem’s empowerment vibe, it’s also channeling K/DA musically. That virtual band, based on characters from a video game, had similar beats with an undeniable K-pop musical aesthetic.

It’s hard not to want to be this kind of rock star.

Simple Premise, Deeper Meaning

KPop Demon Hunters has a wonderful message hidden behind a simple premise. You won’t have to work too hard to determine what’s going on. The basic plot is that three chosen hunters can use the power of music to create a shield that protects the world from demon invasions. However, the shield is for shit; it’s breaking down, and this means demons need their asses kicked. Our heroes are just the musicians for the task.

It would be easy for the scriptwriters and directors to lean into K-pop music and swords, but they resisted the easy ride. Things get interesting because the plot is really a metaphor for a lot of the confusion we feel in our world. As we grow up, we’re told that if we work hard and do our part, we’ll have a good life—maybe a family, a nice house, good friends, all while wearing success like a badge. But the world’s not actually like that—to quote Galadriel, “they were all of them deceived.” A very small number of ultra-conservative, ultra-wealthy oligarchs are sucking the wealth from the world. No one can afford a house. Education is expensive. People work 80-hour weeks at more than one job and get less than their parents did. KPop Demon Hunters shows the shield of the world is our false expectations. It doesn’t work.

The film uses demons and shields to show what we know to be true: that ‘forces beyond’ are influencing us, and not in a nice or kind way. But it also shows that we can find allies in people who aren’t like us and are maybe on the wrong side of history—and these allies are just the kinds of people who can help shift the balance.

Character & Growth: The Trio and Ji-noo

The character work in this film is excellently done, focusing on two key concepts:

• a) That you can make terrible mistakes that feel like they define you (but there’s a road back), and
• b) That we all find ourselves displaced from what the world expects us to be, but it’s more than okay to be who we are.

Ultimately, difference is a superpower that can save the world.

We follow our three hunters: Rumi (voiced by Arden Cho), the notional head, centre-stage performer, and lead vocalist of Huntr/x. She’s a self-assessed misfit, the woman all her fans want to be like, all while she wants to be anyone but herself. Then there’s Mira (voiced by May Hong)—the rebellious one who uses not caring as a shield to protect herself from caring too much. And finally, Zoey (voiced by Ji-young Yoo), the people-pleaser, the nervous and uncertain one who wants everyone to succeed but never focuses on herself.

Throughout the movie’s 1h35m runtime, we see these three were fated to be the demon hunters, part sword saint and part celestial musician, but they get an unexpected gift: they became besties. However, the bonds of friendship were never really tested until the events of the film. Prior to this most recent demonic invasion, Huntr/x could do nothing but win because of who they were and the positions they were in. The movie’s main conceit is that all of them were living a slightly different flavour of lie. As KPop Demon Hunters unfolds, we see them hiding things from themselves as much as from each other. This imperils not just their friendship, but the whole world. And we need the world: not having it would suck. The film’s compelling narrative arc is one where they need to remember who they are and who they need to be. I’m sure we can all remember times in our past where being true to our nature conflicted with our perceptions of being accepted, but the biggest lesson we learn is that it’s not really acceptance if we need to be someone we’re not. This is the lesson the movie broadcasts to 11.

This theme extends to our antagonist, or perhaps anti-hero: Ji-noo (voiced by Ahn Hyo-seop), the mastermind behind musical rival band The Saja Boys. Ji-noo’s done some bad shit, man, like super bad, and has been allied with the demons ever since. He’s made an actual devil’s bargain: “I will corrupt the world if you can make me forget the evil I’ve done.” It’s an interesting test; we all may have done things we consider to be wrong, and making amends is much harder than walking away. Ji-noo’s quest isn’t to undo his terrible wrong, because it was in the past. It’s to use the power of forgetting to undo the guilt and trauma he relives daily, to ease away from the constant inner voice berating him for all he’s incapable of being. But—and avoiding spoilers!—the actual test is to accept that we’re all fallible, that we all stumble and even fall, and it’s possible to be more than our past errors.

It might even be possible to turn those mistakes into something positive, to get out from who we were and into who we need to be… and perhaps save the world (and ourselves in the process).

The Deceptive Mentor & Cultural Nuances

Adding another layer to this narrative of self-acceptance is the demon hunters’ mentor. She has a very small role in the film but a big one in their lives, a sort of we-have-Miyagi-at-home character. She exemplifies the problem with acceptance, because her entire mission has been to hide Rumi’s secret and provide a path out where Rumi can be done with her checkered past. She’s the older mentor we want to trust, but wearing a divisive hat: she is putting forward the old-school idea that difference is a hindrance and must be stamped out. This rigid one-way-to-succeed mentality perfectly sets the stage for the film’s sharp critique of the K-pop industry itself. It’s through the trio’s trust in her and eventual self-discovery moments that allows us celebrate their difference. We realise that just because someone is older doesn’t make them wiser, and our own paths have value.

The Korean media production element comes through strongly here. In Korea, entertainment companies manufacture stars—I’ve heard stories of the likes of SM or YG picking tweens and training them for years (ref: 1, 2, 3, 4) like a sort of national Mickey Mouse Club. The film uses this as a perfect platform for how demons might actually influence media, because the system’s already set up for manipulation. If some bands are picked to be big (like Blackpink), there are only a few that get to lead the charge. This creates the backdrop tapestry the film leverages, where Huntr/x are pitted against The Saja Boys in a musical fight to the death. We see this not-so-subtle hierarchy used to great effect; while we only hear music from Huntr/x and The Saja Boys, there is a ranking of other bands fans can vote for on their phones. It’s more a competition like the demon-invasion version of America’s Got Talent than the organic music experience most Westerners know. While it would be unlikely for such a thing to occur in the West outside of reality TV, it feels quite believable in Korea if, say, you were a group of demons who could influence the media.

Visuals, Themes, and The Anti-Message of Music

In terms of how the movie is shot, it’s channeling the Spider-Verse movies with their stepped animation style. You know how the Spider-Verse films make every frame feel like a comic panel come to life? They do this by animating characters on ‘twos’ (every other frame) while keeping the background animated on ‘ones’ (every frame). KPop Demon Hunters does that, but with the glossy aesthetic of a K-pop music video. When Rumi draws her sword, the frames linger just long enough to let you appreciate the vibe of both the badassery and the emotion behind it.

(Side note: it’s a trick that’s also been used in Predator: Killer of Killers, which is worth checking out if you haven’t, but we’re not here to review a Predator movie).

It’s hard to highlight a single scene of excellence as the movie is non-stop from the get-go. The colour is vibrant, sure, but I think it’s actually how colour is combined with animation techniques to let us understand what characters are feeling. It’s this depth of emotion that comes through; it’s less about how badass the trio of demon hunters are—and they are! They kick ass—and more about the depth of feeling they (and The Saja Boys) uncover. It’s a message to the audience that it’s okay to be yourself and feel your own feelings.

This film also boldly showcases things I suspect young women want to see or hear. For example, it’s okay to sit around in your bathrobe all day if that’s what you want. With popular media emphasising ‘ideal’ or ‘perfect’ body proportions in women, it’s also tremendously refreshing to see a movie that celebrates eating what you want, when you want, without any body shaming or external judgment. If you’re watching book reviews on TikTok at 2 a.m. wondering if you’ll ever find your people, this film says your weirdness isn’t a bug—it’s the feature that saves the world. This isn’t just accidental positivity; it’s a core part of the film’s ultimately wholesome and empowering message.

It also does great work in channeling its Korean heritage when it comes to the demons and their evil. It’s far less Western Biblical Etch A Sketch and more into the forces that shape our thoughts and desires, often hinting at internal struggles or societal pressures rather than purely external, monstrous evil. The demons are rendered in a colourful art style, despite being a horde of slavering monsters who want the souls inside all of us. There are two standouts: Derpy, a huge tiger, and Sussie, a supernatural magpie. Derpy, cursed with being simple, is trying to fulfil his role of guardian spirit. The tiger is paired with the clever Sussie, a supernatural magpie who is cursed with Derpy. While notionally on Team Demon, the duo is another reminder that all is not what it seems, and that people are less black and white than many would prefer. As the film beautifully illustrates, all of us contain legions.

KPop Demon Hunters is a celebration of justice, but it’s also a musical. It’s not just about the phat beats; it’s all about the message. Huntr/x believe that to win the competition, they must create an ‘angry’ song. But they’re a bubblegum latte group; the track’s overt messages about domination and combat are a quicksand they’re sinking into. Because they fear the demon invasion so much, they become more demonic when combating it. Fighting fire with fire is totally a strategy, but they work out that the ends don’t justify the means. Remember, this film is about being true to yourself. Huntr/x can’t win against evil by being a more tuneful evil.

Ancient History and Timeless Messaging

I promised we’d revisit Jem and the Holograms. Jem was revolutionary for the 80s, and KPop Demon Hunters is revolutionary for right now. It’s suggesting that your K-pop obsession and your anxiety about the state of the world aren’t separate things.

The old show and this new movie share epic parallels in their treatment of female empowerment through entertainment and heroism, despite being separated by nearly four decades. I was an unashamed fan of Jem back when it was on TV; it deserves a reboot better than 2015’s 4.2 trash fire. Hopefully the path it paved for KPop Demon Hunters will be returned in kind, as KPop Demon Hunters shows we want these stories as much as we always did. Let’s dig in.

Both centre on young women who lead double lives as entertainers and protectors. Jem’s Jerrica Benton transforms into a glamorous rock star while secretly fighting corporate villains and personal enemies, using holographic technology to create dope illusions. KPop Demon Hunters follows K-pop superstars Rumi, Mira, and Zoey, who balance their lives in the spotlight with their secret identities as demon hunters, using their powers to protect the world from demons. Unlike Jem’s Synergy, their power is not technological but magical, rooted in a generations-old lineage of female shamans who use music to fight evil.

They both share the concept of music as both performance art and weapon. Jem’s holographic concerts were more than entertainment, and KPop’s trio uses their musical platform as cover for their supernatural protection gig. Both shows celebrate music as both artistic expression and transformative force, literally changing reality. Jem’s core messages are about integrity, philanthropy, and found family. The show championed the idea that success should be used for good, promoting kindness and teamwork over cutthroat rivalry. KPop Demon Hunters’ themes are more complex, delving into the idea of fighting not just external enemies but also inner demons. The film’s feel-good message is that your past does not define you, and that it’s okay to not fit neatly into a box. It’s a story that values friendship and authenticity.

Both celebrate a powerful counter-narrative to traditional subservient female roles, but use different map software to get there. I’d argue that Jem pioneered the concept of female musicians as aspirational figures who could be more than glamorous. The show tackled substantive social issues like homelessness, drug addiction, and disaster relief, but still kept the charm offensive on high volume. Jerrica/Jem showed you could be successful, caring, and heroic without sacrificing femininity or artistic integrity. Back to our timeline, KPop Demon Hunters has quickly become Netflix’s most-watched movie. It would be fair to say its positivity is a message the global audience wants to hear. It blends aspirational elements of K-pop with the supernatural. It’s offering a similar message to young audiences: just like Jem, its heroes are both rockstars and protectors of their fans. It says that heroes are real, more than a product, and better than a brand. It’s a message we want to believe, sure, but it’s a trope we want to be.

Remember when I talked about the ultraconservatives? Both Jem and the Holograms and KPop Demon Hunters absolutely reject the conservative-agenda passive roles for young women. Jem was revolutionary back in the 80s for daring to suggest its female hero owned her own record company, made executive decisions, and solved problems rather than waiting for rescue. Jerrica wasn’t just talented—she was an entrepreneur, technologically savvy, and decisive.

KPop Demon Hunters celebrates its ancestor with heroes who are badass demon hunters, facing existential threats while maintaining careers and protecting the world. They’re a team, a group who work together to solve common problems. But they also represent young women who don’t have to choose between success and heroism, between artistic achievement and protective power.

There’s a hidden nuance here. The evolution from Jem to KPop Demon Hunters also suggests a changing world. Jem was distinctly American, rooted in 1980s rock culture and Western beauty standards. KPop Demon Hunters taps into the global phenomenon of K-pop, acknowledging how youth culture has become increasingly international and how Asian entertainment has gained worldwide influence. K/DA celebrated this in a similar way, using a Western game property set on an international stage of music and bombast. 

Both Jem and KPop Demon Hunters get it: young audiences crave protagonists who are multidimensional. We want complex heroes who excel in multiple spheres. Not just performers or just heroes, but people who have a day job while doing the right thing on the side. They offer a version of Femininity 2.0: ambition, talent, technological proficiency, and protective instincts. They—rightly—reject that women must be limited to supportive or decorative roles. They pass the Bechdel test with flying colours.

They also show an eternal appeal of this formula. From Jem’s holographic rock shows to KPop Demon Hunters’ supernatural K-pop adventures, we’ve got irrefutable proof that audiences hunger for stories where young women wield both cultural influence and the literal power to shape our world.

Final Thoughts

KPop Demon Hunters has a wholesome message so many people need to hear, regardless of their points of difference. I’d argue that especially young people—not just women—need to hear it. There’s a lot of messaging in the world from ultraconservatives who control media, employment prospects, schooling, and so on that are trying to continually define humanity to a small subset of its true potential. KPop Demon Hunters refutes this; it’s a film that’s fine with you being half of one thing, half of another, and totally yourself. It’s also fine with you spending three months on the couch with your besties if that’s the life you want to live.

This isn’t just another believe-in-yourself kids’ film. It’s asking harder questions. Can you accept that your friends might be struggling with things they haven’t told you? Can you fight for someone who’s made terrible choices? And for anyone who’s ever felt like they don’t quite fit: what if your weirdness isn’t something to overcome, but something the world needs? I keep thinking about how Rumi wanted to not be herself, but her fans wanted to be her. How many of us are living some version of that? KPop Demon Hunters suggests we’re all looking the wrong way. It’s saying that we shouldn’t be someone else’s version of perfect.

It leaves the audience with a question: would you be happy to be allied with people you don’t look or sound like, to live in a world where difference is celebrated? It’s an innate challenge, because most people are happy with their point of difference, but sometimes get angry or lash out at alternative forms of expression. KPop Demon Hunters knows there’s a little Mira in all of us. The movie is, perhaps, suggesting that we’re partly to blame for where we find ourselves, and that we need to accept an imperfect world if we want to be our imperfect perfect selves in it. It’s a film that trusts the audience to catch the deeper themes while still delivering epic sword battles set to a boss-level bass track.

What did you think of KPop Demon Hunters? If you have the soundtrack on repeat, click Like. And if you are part of the fossil record that remembers Jem and the Holograms, click Subscribe. And thanks for watching!