"Kpop Demon Hunters" explores the symbiotic and often exploitative relationship between music artists and their fans, contrasting genuine artistic expression with manufactured personas, ultimately advocating for authenticity as the source of true power and connection.
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Kpop Demon Hunters is, on the surface, a conflict between two parties:
the Huntr/x hunter girl band versus the Saja Boys demon boy band. But there’s a third,
major party that’s equally important. [Jinu voice THE FANS] In many ways,
the fans are the engine of the story. They’re what powers Huntrix, and they're what the Saja
Boys seek to take from them. And through the fans and their relationship to these two bands,
the film raises great conversations about art, exploitation, and parasocial relationships.
The film has a hard emphasis on not just the bands, but the FANS.
From the jump, the film underlines the fans’ importance to this whole demon fighting enterprise.
["happy fans, happy HONMOON!"]
["YOUR FANS!! WE'RE GONNA EAT YOUR FANS!!!"]
["WOOOAHHH..."]
["We can get back to the important stuff, like the fans."]
["They're coming after the fans."]
["Lose half the fans..."]
And not just that–Huntrix appears to have a uniquely close, and sincere bond with their fanbase
["I JUST GOT THIS!!!"] ["siiiiiiiick"]
This is key. They're shown not to be just politely tolerating fans, engaging with
them performatively, or seeing them as a means to an end.
They truly invest in this connection.
Huntrix and the Saja Boys play with two sides of that fan-creator relationship,
and the idea of authenticity. In a textual sense, the fans are almost the MacGuffin:
the thing the heroes and villains are vying for that powers the plot. A finite resource.
["WOAH MIND THE FACE! I need it to steal your fans."]
But they’re also much more than that. Both bands want and need the fans, but why?
They're a power source for both, but they serve a distinct purpose for each.
Huntr/x needs them for the Honmoon–
--it manifests from the collective energy that emanates when people react to their music.
They, in turn, literally draw their weapons from it. It’s a virtuous cycle: they play music,
which strengthens the Honmoon, which keeps demons at bay, which protects people, which in turn gives
Huntrix more power to draw from to fight demons, to protect people, and so on.
The Saja Boys, on the other hand--eat. [ahah they ate]
Saja wants the fans, to consume them.
And the two bands' methods for acquiring this fan power source, of course, vary wildly.
Saja does so by encouraging disingenuous, obsessive relationship with them.
Creating a parasitic energy system.
Huntr/x, meanwhile, operates totally differently.
They have this sincere, almost idealistically solid relationship with their fans.
Rather than a parasitic source of energy, it’s a self-powering battery.
When Huntrix are at their best, their fan relationship creates a mutual exchange of energy.
["Our music ignites the *soul* and brings people together."]
It’s worth asking– why are Hunters singers at all?
Because their music banishes the demons, sure,
but how and why?
If we define souls spiritually and metaphorically as a person’s innermost essence,
it makes sense why this would be linked to music. Think about how hard it is to sing nonchalantly.
Music, written or performed, in some ways contains a piece of the person’s self,
of their vulnerability. Or, to use the language of this film, people’s souls–
the part of people that Huntrix and Saja both seek.
One to power a shield, the other to consume.
And the idea of music as a transcendent power exists in many pieces of media.
In Sinners, music can be so powerful as to connect one with the spirits (or souls) of the dead.
In the show Angel, Lorne, an empathy demon,
can read people’s souls when they sing, discerning their intentions and destiny.
In the Orpheus myth, Hadestown included,
music is powerful enough to convince the gods to change, and even bring back the seasons.
In musical theatre, the music is there to speak what words alone can’t.
So even if, let’s say, a band doesn’t write their own music–their performance is still theirs.
To perform is to be expressive by definition, and there’s a rawness there that’s difficult to hide.
But the Saja Boys--they're not being vulnerable in any way.
Not in writing their songs, not in performing them.
There’s no creative or personal expression. Because they can’t.
They aren’t putting any soul into their art, because they have none left to give.
Before going after the souls of the fans, Gwi Ma took the Saja Boys’ first.
So it makes sense that in this paradigm, the only fan relationship they can cultivate
is parasitic. Unlike Huntrix, they could never illuminate souls. They can only feed on them.
["The Saja Boys LOVE YOU!!!"]
It's this distinction between Huntrix vs Saja Boys’ music that is key. When we’re
moved by a piece of music, a piece of art, a powerful performance, we’re connecting with
some expression of human creativity. Maybe we call that “soul.” When we see a movie,
or hear a song that feels overly manufactured and insincere, we call that soulless.
So feeling the real human mind and heart in a piece of work is a huge part of why art resonates.
To this end, that’s why it’s exciting to see a creative we really admire, not just as an idealized,
untouchable god, but as a human being.
["They're just like us!!!"]
Feeling like we can see the person behind the art
can often make us feel even more connected to the art itself.
And therein arises fandom,
which celebrates the creator as much as the creation itself.
["SO HOT!!" "And respectful!!!"]
But here’s the paradox.
Artists–musicians, in this specific case–are creators, but they’re also, especially the
bigger they become, a business. They're not just people making things they love, they’re a brand,
with managers, agents, and contracts.
So–people respond to authenticity from artists, creating
a sense of personal closeness with them.
But of course, their management is aware of this too.
Ideally, artists have to be two things at once:
Perfect enough to idealize, accessible enough to humanize.
And, as the business side recognizes this,
they pour efforts into promoting, ironically, authenticity as a marketing tool
["googoo gaga."]
And thereby, removing authenticity by manufacturing it.
People's desire to understand, and feel close to the artists that they care about
becomes another business strategy.
This is pervasive in any creative industry, but because of the film’s focus,
it’s commenting on the specific way that this manifests in the KPOP industry.
Intensely high standards–
from rigorous, exhausting training to people in their teens to even become potential idols,
to the impossibly high body and beauty standards.
Strict diets and plastic surgery are commonplace.
Idols are also typically banned from dating, because that would threaten the fantasy that
an obsessive fan might potentially have a chance with them.
Even just the name “idol” itself invites ideas of worship.
I don’t need to tell you why this is exploitative on both ends.
So, in this film, the two bands represent these two extremes.
The Saja Boys represent the industry at its most corrupt.
Their two songs we hear are completely unsubtle, each talking about basically the
same thing: needing the fans.
One, Soda Pop, couched in an addictive, sugary hook.
The other, with no pretense.
This is parasocialism at its worst. It exploits the fans, but also dehumanizes the band.
Because as much as they prey on others, the Saja Boys are also victims themselves.
They're just tools.
Their songs are addictive, shallow, and manufactured. Their personalities are exaggerated
and disingenuous. Archetypes, not people.
Other than Jinu, once they’re out of the spotlight,
they seem to revert to inert, mindless husks.
This is the ultimate exploitation of both fan and creative.
The artists are sold as products. And the fans are encouraged into parasocial obsession
with this product, masquerading as a friend.
Huntrix, meanwhile, are not just the opposite,
but seem to be something especially exceptional.
Huntris are ALL ABOUT self expression.
They're shown to be both their own songwriters, and choreographers.
And significantly, unlike the Saja Boys, who sing about the fans and how much they need them,
Huntr/x tends to sing about themselves.
["It's the story of us." "It's a song about who we are [...]"
And within the lore and themes of the film,
it’s because Huntrix are a very specific kind of band.
They’re not just a good and honest and genuine group.
They’re Hunters. And it seems it’s their job to be authentic.
This is, quite literally, where their power comes from.
We see them succeed in their demon-hunting enterprise when they’re most authentic,
And fail when they're not.
When they write Takedown, it not only doesn’t power the Honmoon,
it actively harms them, and it.
And then later, the girls realize,
That song wasn't really them.
This was the failure of authenticity.
The film’s final battle is between these two extremes in song form:
Your Idol, and This is What It Sounds Like.
Two extremes coming together to synthesize the film's thesis.
After having cultivated an obsession among their new fans,
Saja prepares the nail in the glowing fiery coffin.
A song whose extremely unsubtle lyrics encourage the exact toxic parasocialism
we discussed earlier.
[“I can be your sanctuary”].
And why does this work, at first?
Because they're not entirely wrong.
Because, for many people, it’s true that that art CAN be a sanctuary!
There’s nothing inherently wrong with finding solace and community in art.
In gushing over a creative you admire.
Here, though, of course, that’s being exploited, echoing Gwi Ma’s claim that:
["I can give you a place to belong."]
And Gwi Ma is the fire-demon-man behind the curtain.
If the Saja Boys are the soulless manufactured band–
Gwi Ma is the corporate exec behind it all:
heartlessly using and dehumanizing artists, to take from everyone possible.
On the other end, we have Huntrix–powered by sincerity and authenticity.
But something's different here.
Before, the Huntrix we saw were already pretty authentic.
Their fans–as they often do--spoke as though they knew them,
gushing about their personal lives--
admiring them for how unapologetically themselves they were.
But as we know, the Golden Honmoon that started to appear
was an imperfect one.
Because at the same time, despite Huntrix being very good at their jobs,
there was also stuff being hidden.
Not just Rumi’s patterns, but truths about their entire
belief system–about the Honmoon, and potentially the nature of demons themselves.
There was always something missing.
["And when the Honmoon is sealed, we will be free of these demons,"]
["free of these fears forever."]
So in the end, Huntrix triumphs by embracing true authenticity,
Not just in content, but in form.
The final song is, distinctly,
in a much more comfortable register, and easier tempo for Rumi.
And all of them sing in EQUAL harmony in the chorus.
And it’s no accident that the song that finally defeats Gwi-Ma
is one that manifests *spontaneously.*
They say it’s the “song they couldn’t write,” and within the rules of this narrative,
the song to defeat Gwi Ma could never be written. It had to simply be expressed.
With the music coming out of thin air, and all of them instantly knowing the lyrics,
this song seems to be the ultimate, purest manifestation
of the Hunters’ music-related powers.
Not just defeating Gwi Ma, but summoning the true, multicolored Honmoon.
In our world, as much as artists share their “real” and “grounded” sides,
part of them will always be inaccessible.
Authenticity in art is important and possible, but artists are also
brands and businesses making money, or trying to.
And despite certain artists wanting to sincerely connect with fans,
that becomes increasingly difficult as their fame grows.
The sheer number of fans makes engagement practically impossible,
and, unfortunately, often unsafe for the artist.
So in this film, in some ways, it’s an idealized notion by the end —
a band that can thrive on superstardom
that neither exploits those who make art nor those who consume it.
Huntrix can maintain a close, even personal relationship
with their fans, and we never see any of the entitled, toxic,
or even dangerous behavior that people can exhibit in the real world.
The creators aren't exploited by their industry,
and the fans treat them respectfully in a way that allows for real connection.
The film also goes out of its way to show Huntrix having not just a healthy, but
enthusiastic relationship with food, while still having conventionally ideal, skinny body types.
This seems to be a world where their bodies are
neither policed by management, nor scrutinized by fans.
We’re shown a reality where both groups seem to be the best versions of themselves.
So it is, admittedly, a bit of a fantasy.
But isn’t that what’s fun about a story? And you know, maybe, Huntr/x
doesn't get burnt out by their fans
precisely because of the pure nature of their power, or something.
Their connection is so real that it brings out the best in others, too.
In our world, as great as marketing may get, celebrities are not our friends, yes.
But there is something genuine, and powerful
about being moved by a piece of art,
and, especially, when that leads us to connect with other people over those feelings.
This can prompt self-reflection, inspire creativity of our own,
and create new friendships.
And as sources of power go, that’s a pretty magical one.
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