I’m late to the party, but I’ve finally watched KPop Demon Hunters. And while I doubt anyone needs convincing at this point, I will say that I think it’s worth checking out. It’s easy to see why it resonates so well with kids, but I find it accessible for people of any age who are open to heroines who are allowed to be goofy yet serious, a lot of musical numbers, and a message about a will that, for better or for worse, has been inherited across generations.

I’ll be spoiling the ending of the film, so here’s your warning.

The mix of Korean folklore and modern pop culture is an interesting place to tell a story about being afraid to show who you really are. In the lore of the film, Korean demon hunters have fought with both weapons and songs for generations, using their voices to create and strengthen an anti-demon barrier called the Honmoon. Rumi is the leader of the current generation, Huntrix, and she hides her greatest secret from even her teammates and friends: Rumi is actually half demon, and she wants to complete the Honmoon so she can be rid of her demonic side for good and finally stop hiding a part of herself, but begins to find her voice is faltering when she needs it most. 

The Honmoon is one of the most interesting things to me about KPop Demon Hunters, because I think it does a great job of presenting both the good and bad parts of inheriting the actions and decisions of generations past. The Honmoon is a massive undertaking that has been continuously built up for dozens if not hundreds of years, and it has helped protect the people through hard work. However, it was built on the need for the singers who empower it to never show weakness, and this pressure is what causes Rumi to start breaking down. By the end of the film, she and the others remove the Honmoon and replace it with a new version that doesn’t place all the burden on the women and the need to project perfection at all costs. 

I really like this metaphor because it doesn’t lump the actions of their ancestors as an unassailable legacy, nor is it purely a source of generational trauma. It is the product of decisions made in the past that were arguably necessary, helped build a foundation for descendants to survive and thrive, and ultimately helped Korea and humankind. But those choices are not beyond reproach, and naively following every aspect of them can harm people like Rumi who bristle against its pressure.

So KPop Demon Hunters lives up to the hype, and will likely end up being the Sailor Moon of a new generation of children. I can hardly think of a better work of art to carry that torch.