K-Pop Demon Hunters: Mark Kermode’s film review (video).
If you’ve ever watched a K-pop music video and thought, “This is great, but it could really use more demon-slaying, magical swords, and one or two existential crises,” then Netflix’s K-Pop Demon Hunters has arrived to answer your oddly specific prayers.
Mark Kermode, our man of many movies, is here to give you his take ontThis animated neon fever-dream, co-directed by Maggie Kang and Chris Appelhans, is part urban fantasy, part concert film, part anime, and entirely bonkers in the best possible way. It follows Huntr/x, a K-pop girl group who, when they’re not topping charts and perfecting hair flips, are also the last line of defence between humanity and the literal legions of hell. BTS may break records, but Huntr/x break demon skulls with polearms.
The conceit is simple: music is power, and if you sing badly enough the forces of evil win. (Which explains Jedward.) Huntr/x are carrying on a centuries-old tradition of demon-busting idol groups, but things get spicy when their rivals, the Saja Boys, turn out to be demons themselves. This means the battle of the bands is also the battle for the human soul. Imagine Eurovision with higher stakes and fewer questionable costumes.
Our lead vocalist Rumi (voiced by Arden Cho, sung by Ejae) has a problem beyond her demon-hunting schedule – she’s half-demon herself. Which makes singing about purity and light a bit awkward, like finding out you’ve been cast as the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood halfway through the panto. To complicate matters, she develops feelings for Jinu, the Saja Boys’ leader – a tortured demon with the sort of tragic backstory that would make even a Byronic vampire roll his eyes.
Of course, there’s more going on here than flashy fights and glitter cannons. K-Pop Demon Hunters is, at its heart, about shame, identity, and the power of friendship – all filtered through stadium lighting, demon magpies with six eyes, and a soundtrack that slaps harder than a possessed metronome. The songs aren’t just catchy; they’re plot weapons. One minute you’re watching a choreographed dance routine, the next you’re neck-deep in demon ichor. Frankly, if more musicals used this system, Les Misérables would have been over in 20 minutes.
Animation-wise, this is Sony Pictures Imageworks in full “Spider-Verse hangover” mode – bold graphics, mixed media flair, and a willingness to make faces bend and contort into chibi gremlin mode at the drop of a hat. It’s stylish, kinetic, and occasionally ridiculous, which fits the subject perfectly. One moment the girls are gleaming idols onstage, the next they’re anime-eyed goblins bickering over snacks.
Culturally, the film’s creators have mined Korean mythology and folklore with gusto. The magpie and tiger duo (Derpy and Sussy – yes, really) are straight out of traditional minhwa folk art, though one suspects Joseon-era painters didn’t imagine them headlining a Netflix summer blockbuster. Weapons, costumes, even the choreography all tie back to Korean heritage, creating a film that feels both modern and rooted in something deeper than just fandom squealing.
The reception? Glowing. Critics praised it as a visual riot with real heart, and the soundtrack itself went global – Huntr/x even managed to dethrone Blackpink and BTS on Spotify charts, proving once and for all that the only thing stronger than fandom is fandom armed with blessed throwing knives. Netflix, naturally, announced that this was their most-watched animated original of all time, which means you can expect sequels, spinoffs, a stage musical, and probably themed bubble tea cafés by the end of the year.
Here at SFcrowsnest, we live for this sort of thing – a movie that doesn’t just blend genres but throws them into a blender, hits purée, and pours out a glittering smoothie of anime, K-pop, and demonology. It’s knowingly absurd, frequently moving, and outrageously entertaining. And if Huntr/x ever need to expand the line-up, we humbly volunteer. Provided, of course, we can lip-sync rather than fight anything with fangs.
