This image released by Netflix shows characters Zoey, from left, Rumi and Mira in a scene from "KPop Demon Hunters." Director Maggie Kang says a six-year-old at an early screening said she understood exactly what Rumi's fears were: She hides things from friends because she's scared of being judged. - Netflix via AP
SEOUL: The numbers are already the stuff of legends. Over 210 million views worldwide. Eight songs on the Billboard Hot 100, with "Golden" currently the most-streamed track in the US. Netflix's second-biggest original film ever, and still climbing.
Maggie Kang (pic), sitting in a packed screening room in Seoul's Yongsan CGV on Friday, looked genuinely stunned by it all.
"I can't believe it," she said in Korean, momentarily at a loss for words. "We never imagined this kind of love."
Seven years ago, Kang pitched what sounded like a fever dream: a K-pop girl group that secretly hunts demons. The Korean Canadian story artist had worked on animations like "Rise of the Guardians" and "Puss in Boots," but this would be her directorial debut.
Now "KPop Demon Hunters" has become a bona fide global phenomenon, and Kang has returned to the city she left at five years old for a homecoming that feels both triumphant and surreal.
The film follows Huntrix, a K-pop trio whose soaring vocals and synchronised choreography mask their true purpose: protecting the Honmoon, a barrier between Earth and a demon realm. When demon lord Gwi-ma launches a rival boy band to steal their fans' energy, humanity's survival literally turns into a K-pop popularity contest.
It's a seemingly absurd premise that somehow coheres beautifully, largely because Kang and her team committed to making it as authentically Korean as possible. The film brims with details for Koreans to catch — the specific rituals of public bathhouses, napkins placed under spoons at restaurants, even cars illegally parked on streets clearly marked with no-parking signs.
Kang credits her Korean crew members with maintaining that authenticity. "They'd message me constantly — 'Director, this doesn't make sense,' 'That's upside down.' It was a team effort."
That obsession with getting it right runs deeper than professional pride. Kang described a formative childhood moment that stayed with her through decades in North America. "My second or third grade teacher asked where I was from. I said South Korea. She couldn't find it on the map. I had to point between China and Japan, but even then — the color was different. It showed up as some underdeveloped country.
"I was shocked. From that moment, I wanted to show what my country really was."
When asked what resonates globally about a film steeped in Korean specificity, Kang pointed to something deeper than the K-pop veneer. "Everyone wants love, security, acceptance," she said. "A six-year-old at an early screening said she understood exactly what Rumi's fears were: She hides things from friends because she's scared of being judged.
"That's what this movie's really about: shame."
The topic of identity surfaced again and again throughout the conversation. "For 'gyopo' like myself, it's easy to feel an identity crisis," Kang said, using the Korean term for ethnic Koreans living outside of Korea. But she's never felt torn between worlds. "I've always had a strong Korean identity — I introduce myself as Korean, sometimes forgetting the Canadian part. Keeping the language helped me stay connected."
Still, Kang sees her bicultural perspective as essential to where Korean content needs to go.
"If we're serious about Korean culture going global, we need creators who know Korean culture intimately, but also understand other cultures. The idea of Koreanness has changed. There are many of us and our voices need amplifying."
Her advice for aspiring Korean content creators was clear and simple: Trust yourself. "Anytime you cater to their opinions instead of your own, it loses authenticity. Audiences can smell it. They want the real thing. That's the only way K-content can reach an even broader audience — show our culture exactly as it is, with confidence."
Asked about the Korean artists who influenced her, Kang turned giddy discussing '90s hitmakers Seo Taiji and H.O.T. "I was a huge fan — suddenly I'm this teenage girl again."
Bong Joon-ho's "The Host" also shaped her vision, though she promised to save that story for the Busan film festival next month, where she is to present her personally curated selections alongside Bong as part of the festival’s Carte Blanche programme.
As for sequels, Kang sounded coy but determined. "Nothing official yet. But we have so many backstories we haven't told, so many ideas."
One thing's certain, however: Her ideas for future projects suggest an expansive vision that extends well beyond a single genre.
"Trot is huge right now," she said of Korea's retro pop genre, beloved by older generations.
"Maybe some heavy metal, who knows?" - The Korea Herald/ANN
