Disclaimer: This website is a personal platform for reviewing and analyzing media, including films and books. Images and references from K-Pop Demon Hunters (2025) are used strictly for commentary and critique under the fair use provisions of copyright law. I do not claim ownership of any images or materials; all rights remain with Sony Pictures Animation, Sony Music Entertainment Korea, and their respective affiliates.
Death By Soda Pop
I’ll admit it.
I was highly skeptical of this movie at first. And by that, I mean that I harbored a cataclysmic level of secondhand embarrassment from watching– in horror– as my friend boogied to “Soda Pop” in the middle of a crowded mall. With his own (ear-splitting) rendition of the song, of course.
Beyond just fearing for my friend’s social reputation, the entire premise of the movie– Seriously, how much cringier can you get than ‘demon-fighting k-pop idols’?– was completely unappealing to me.
And yet, thanks to a sudden rainstorm, a borrowed Netflix login (farewell, sketchy streaming sites with 300 pop-ups and the occasional malware!), and ten minutes of aggressive peer pressure from my three cousins, I finally caved and said the fateful words: “Alright, fine. Why not?”
And, as usual, I was late to the next big banger.
Directed by Maggie Kang and Chris Appelhans, K-Pop Demon Hunters follows Huntrix– a globally adored K-pop girl group who live double lives: selling out stadiums by day, exorcising demons by night. What their fans don’t know is that Huntrix has inherited a sacred generational duty: to defend Seoul from the malevolent Gwi-Ma, a demon who exploits the ugliest parts of the human psyche– envy, vanity, and insecurity– to consume their souls.
Huntrix’s power is tethered to a mystical barrier called the Honmoon, which is sustained through the devotion of their fans. But when a rival boy band (who may or may not be demons in disguise) starts stealing their fandom– and Rumi, Huntrix’s perfectionistic leader, begins to crack under the weight of buried secrets– the Honmoon begins to falter. And if that barrier breaks, so does the boundary between our world and the one Gwi-Ma wants to consume.
An Unhinged Animation Style . . . That Slaps
The first thing that I noticed– right off the bat– was the animation style. Specifically, that it’s absolutely hilarious. Characters’ gestures are bold and dynamic, leaning into the kind of exaggerated comedy you’d expect from a Webtoon. Visual gags border on deranged (and I say this as the highest of compliments).
But here’s the ultimate kicker.
Growing up on a steady diet of Disney, I’ve noticed how animated media tends to handle female characters with a kind of visual caution. Even in chaotic fight battles or so-called “bad hair days,” they still manage to appear aesthetic and perfectly poised– as if there were some unspoken taboo against depicting women as unflattering.
K-Pop Demon Hunters had no such qualms.
Eyes ballooned into hearts at the sight of abs. Plenty of angry gremlin expressions were made. Rumi’s nostrils flared as she devoured a kimbab.
Girls are given the unique permission to be ridiculous and absolutely feral, subverting all gender norms with a kind of self-awareness that gleefully leans into its absurdity, dignity be damned.
Paired with even more hilarious one-liners and wildly bizarre quips, this film was, quite honestly, very refreshing to watch.
When Sisterhood Looks Like Battle Scars
But what drew me in with laughter ended up seizing me by my heart– especially through its portrayal of the friendship between the Huntrix members.
We are used to watching boyhood mythologized through pain in mainstream media– “bros before hoes,” comrades forged in fire, and wounded soldiers turned soulmates. But girlhood? You’d be lucky if the characters had a bonding makeup session before the show sends them into a love triangle, complete with frivolous giggling and bitter jealousy.
Huntrix changes that: Rumi, the leader, is desperate to keep her darkness buried. Mira, dubbed a “problem child” by her own family, masks her insecurity with a tough exterior. Zoey, the bubbly beam of sunshine, is not untouched by doubt either. Each of them is vulnerable to Gwi-Ma. Each of them hears the voice that tells them they’re not good enough. And yet, they keep fighting– for Seoul, for each other, for themselves.
This is not a girl group held together by PR contracts, shallow supportive dialogue, and superficial matching outfits. Rather, it’s a trauma-bonded sisterhood duct-taped at the seams– bonded by their demon-fighting duties, collapsing under the secrets they keep from one another, yet still managing to heal stronger and true.
There’s one particularly poignant scene where they are depicted bare-faced while having a hard conversation about a high-stakes Idol award. Makeup removed, eyes tired, and most importantly, vulnerable. It’s a touching moment perfectly exemplifying the main theme of the movie: I see the most unguarded parts of you laid bare, and I’m staying anyway.
We rarely get to see girlhood painted in scars instead of just sparkles.
But when sisterhood is written well, it feels nothing short of miraculous.
A Golden Soundtrack
If bare-faced vulnerability is where Huntrix lays its emotional truths raw, then the soundtrack is where it bleeds. The film’s music doesn’t just accompany the story– it fractures, pulses, and feels with it.
Let’s be clear– I was not a big fan of K-Pop prior to watching this film. However, the climax of the movie was where my shallow presuppositions of the genre (polished choreography, glossy aesthetics, vibes over substance) were absolutely turned on their head.
Accompanying the film’s powerful climax was the song “Golden,” a powerful vocal declaration that clawed its way to catharsis:
“No more hiding, I’ll be shining like I’m born to be
‘Cause we are hunters, voices strong, and I know I believe
We’re goin’ up, up, up, it’s our moment
You know together we’re glowing
Gonna be, gonna be golden”
The soundtrack isn’t just catchy. It carries the emotional weight of finally breaking past performative perfection– with the harmony of the three girls bound not just by music, but by pain, flaws, and the unspoken promise that they’ll stay– even when the masks fall.
At its heart, K-Pop Demon Hunters wrestles with the unsettling truth that everyone harbors something “hideous.” The demons in the story– literal and metaphorical– prey on insecurities and emotional wounds that are all too human, whether it’s jealousy, vanity, or the universal craving for approval. Huntrix’s struggle lies not just in fighting external monsters but managing the ones within, learning to surrender their carefully guarded facades, and to trust those they care about with the fragile truth beneath.
And that struggle– aching, unglamorous, unapologetically human– is what makes this story golden.
Final Notes
Overall, this was perhaps the funniest movie about soul-sucking insecurity (haha, see what I did there?) that I’ve seen this year.
And while I will NOT be doing body rolls to “Soda Pop” in the middle of a mall anytime soon, I have to admit– I get it now. It’s rare to find a film that’s willing to be this unhinged and this emotionally powerful. While other reviews may rave about the subtle nods to K-Pop, the incorporation of Korean culture, and the highly attractive male cast (elements that are, of course, highly relevant in their own rights), I’ve discovered something different.
After all, beneath the chaotic visuals and absurdist humor of this movie is something sharp and self-aware– a story that refuses to make girlhood palatable, or sand down its ugliest, most vulnerable edges.
To anyone still on the fence: Watch it. Then laugh a little. Then murder your vocal cords by singing the bridge to “Golden.”
Trust me, it’s worth it.
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