Over Zoom, my young-adult counseling client smiled when I noticed her new poster hanging on the wall behind her. The active-duty military service member said, “It’s Huntrix — the musical group from the movie KPop Demon Hunters.”
Later I saw one of my adult stepsons wearing a KDH sweatshirt. Then I heard the host of my favorite radio show say the KDH phenomenon is so huge even NPR listeners have heard of it. Drawing young military personnel and computer coders and even folks whose first TVs were black and white, KDH is now the most-streamed movie in Netflix history.
So, that evening, I jumped on the bandwagon, fully intending to jump off at the first stop. But from the opening lines and rich colors, I was swept up in both artistry and contemplative reflection. The 95-minute running time was extended because I kept pausing to write down quotations.
If you don’t want to know anything beyond what you’d see in a trailer, this is your spoiler alert to stop here.
Enter Brené Brown
Not too many minutes into the film I thought, Wow! Brené Brown has truly changed the world. I haven’t been able to find an interview confirming that any of the five screenplay writers attribute their thinking to Brown, but her influence is clear to anyone who’s spent the last two decades reading her books and rewatching her mega-viral TED Talk on vulnerability.
Brene Brown
Others have noticed the connection. Emmy-Award-winning producer Nicole Yaron wrote a Substack post with detailed analysis of the common themes between Brown’s work and the film. And Jessica Gerhardt gave two paragraphs to the Brown/Demon Hunters parallels in her article KPop Demon Hunter’s is a Hit — on the Screen and in my Theology Class.
Indeed, later in the film, I thought, This film is going to raise the issue of spirituality in young people of today the way George Lucas’ Star Wars did for Gen-Xers.
A key theme in KDH echoes Brown’s distinction between shame and guilt. John Bradford’s classic book Healing the Shame that Binds Us describes “good shame” (as in, “Have you no shame?”) and “bad shame” (the kind that eats our souls). Brown’s categorization offers clarity: Guilt says, “I did a bad thing”; shame says, “I am a bad thing.” The characters in KDH — like all of us — are struggling to make and apply that distinction.
In the film, shame permeates individuals through their inner self-talk, called “the voices.” This is consistent with modern cognitive behavioral therapy which sees our emotions as driven by self-talk that is so engrained it often happens unconsciously. All this harkens back to the Apostle Paul’s exhortation in Romans 12:2: “Do not be conformed to this age, but be transformed by the renewing of the mind, so that you may discern what is the will of God — what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
Forces of evil
In KDH, the inner voice of shame is prompted by an evil force personified in the form of a fire named Gwi-Ma — Korean for “Evil Spirit.” In his book The Soul of Shame — Retelling Stories We Believe About Ourselves, Curt Thompson says, “One word … that is deeply associated with the feeling of shame is ‘accused’” and “there is a deep connection between what the Hebrew language refers to as “the Satan” as accuser and the notion of shame.”
That hints at an important question: What if the biblical image of Satan is a literary device personifying shame? Some might worry that eliminating a personal devil removes the threat of hell. On the contrary, what if it brings us closer to seeing the hell on earth of the devilish voice within ourselves that is nurtured by the fallenness of the imperfect people and situations that bred us?
“KDH gets us thinking about the fire within each of us that needs to be transformed into a refining fire rather than a destructive one.”
In other words, KDH gets us thinking about the fire within each of us that needs to be transformed into a refining fire rather than a destructive one.
That leads to other themes of the film consistent with many faith traditions. For one, a literary Christ figure sacrifices himself to save others. Another more universal religious theme involves how we cope with temptation.
Carnal attraction and violence
Many films glamorize engaging in unhealthy behavior based on carnal attraction. The day before seeing KDH, I saw the latest film adaptation of Wuthering Heights. It depicts a young woman entering a disturbingly abusive relationship just because she is physically attracted to the man. By contrast, one KDH female characters gazes with attraction at a guy who is strikingly beautiful on the outside, and she dreamily says, “You’re just my type!” But realizing his demonically ugly character she says, “Oh well,” and fiercely dispatches him with her blade. Hallelujah for a movie depicting resistance to superficial attraction. Sadly, that is portrayed through extreme violence. That brings me to critiques of the film.
At one point, a female character’s fingernails say “KILL SAJA” — demons disguised as a KPop boy band. While adults might see the killing of demons as metaphors and discern the message that beauty does not indicate character, children lack the capacity to make that distinction, especially when the demons look like humans. So, it concerned me when I heard about a theater sing-along with children as young as age 3.
Arden Cho in “KPop Demon Hunters” (Screencap via IMDB)
Additionally, the violence contradicts the film’s aspirational opening narration:
Demons have always haunted our world, stealing our souls and channeling strength back to their king, Gwi-Ma. Until heroes arose to defend us. Born with voices that could drive back the darkness. Singing songs of courage and hope. But hunters are more than warriors. Our music ignites the soul and brings people together. With this connection, the first hunters created a shield to protect our world: the Honmoon.
Sadly, voices of courage and hope are apparently not enough in the film; spiritual victory comes only through physical violence.
That overlaps how the complex issue of nature versus nurture gets portrayed in a rather wishy-washy fashion. One of the main characters conceals the fact she is half demon and half human. Her nemesis was born human, became a full-on demon, but goes through a moral transformation. While this is all philosophically confusing, to its credit, the film lets us hear voiceovers indicating that fully human characters have their inner demons of shame. What’s confusing is if one demon could be transformed through darkness-defying voice, why did the others have to be slaughtered?
Well, sex sells and so does violence.
In the 1960s, Gene Rodenberry created Star Trek, a story of humanistic victory where Earth’s races and ethnicities had created peace. But it simply moved the violence to space and the hatred to be aimed at Klingons and Romulans.
No, I’m not saying violence nullifies the value of the KDH anymore than it negates the majesty of Lord of the Rings or The Chronicles of Narnia. However, the violence and philosophical contradictions mean we need to consider how they impact individual children and be intentional to talk about how they are perceiving and then applying the messages.
And we can all strive to pursue the aspirational values presented in the film’s opening narration, pounding the swords of shame into the musical ploughshares of compassion for self and others.
Brad Bull
Brad Bull has served as hospital chaplain, pastor, professor and therapist. His dissertation research examined how families engage critical thinking regarding children’s TV viewing. His speaking and retreat services may be reached at DrBradBull.com.