This article contains some medium-sized spoilers (I did my best to leave out big ones).

Look, I wasn’t planning to watch this movie. I don’t like K-pop, or demons, or hunting. Having seen zero previews, I envisioned KPop Demon Hunters as the 2020s version of the Barbie Princess movies—replete with cheesy dialogue, some male screenwriter’s idea of “girl drama,” and wayyy too many fashion montages. Oh, and demons, I guess?

But then my coworkers loved this movie. My boyfriend’s little girl cousins loved this movie. My twenty-old-year-old sibling (a longtime K-pop fan) and my twenty-four-year-old (straight, male) friends loved this movie?! It’d become the most-watched original Netflix content of all time, topping Squid Game and Red Notice. My curiosity finally overcame my elitist aversion to pop culture. I gave myself permission to be a twelve-year-old girl and gave it a watch.

By the time the credits rolled, I was reeling. KPop Demon Hunters’ goofy title and “girly” aura belies its powerful messages about loneliness and shame, vulnerability and hatred. These messages aren’t subtle (my two film buff friends prophesied the entire plot). But they’re wrapped up with infectious songs, delightful female characters, and rich (even richly comedic) animation that’ll sucker-punch anyone expecting a lame movie.

Furthermore, I was struck by how closely KPop’s themes resonate with Christian ones. For example, the film’s main villain is the demon king Gwi-Ma. Gwi-Ma controls demons and humans by tapping into their shame. He speaks in his victims’s ears to remind them of their failures and sins, convincing them that they “can’t escape what they are.” Gwi-Ma’s character bears a striking resemblance to Satan, the Accuser. In one scene, his minions sing to an unsuspecting crowd: “The pain and the shame, keep it outta sight…I’m the only one who’ll love your sins.” Gwi-Ma offers people pleasure and comfort—but they’re soon trapped in self-loathing, with no hope of leaving their sins behind. He sends his demon subjects to the human world to harvest more souls for him.

The film’s protagonists are Rumi, Mira, and Zoey, who form the K-pop band HUNTR/X. HUNTR/X is the latest band in a lineage of “Hunters”—women whose voices give them power to a) kill demons and b) harness their fans’ energy to bar demons from the human world.

Except that Rumi, the band’s lead singer, is keeping a shameful secret from her friends. This secret isolates her and even begins to threaten her power as a Hunter. Desperate for answers, Rumi develops an unlikely friendship with a demon named Jinu. As Rumi learns Jinu’s story, she begins to question the demon-hating that fuels HUNTR/X’s campaign. And her teammates are not pleased with this.

Rumi’s shift from enmity to compassion is, for me, the most enthralling piece of KPop Demon Hunters. It comes as Rumi makes peace not only with Jinu, but also with herself and her own shame. It makes no sense to her teammates, who are determined to be as flawless as demons are flawed. It’s a K-drama-infused depiction of how vulnerability can dissolve barriers. Grace can inspire hope. And people can find community in the last place they’d think.

Of course, per the film’s narrative, vulnerability and sharing “who you really are” is all that’s needed to heal. Maybe for some people, it is. For me, though, confessing my brokenness to others is only the first step. Humility and grace in community lays the groundwork for the Holy Spirit to change us. Without a power that’s greater than myself, admitting my sinful patterns brings me the relief of being honest. But it won’t set me free from them.

KPop also makes me realize how often I mistake other broken people for my real Foe. How easy it is to demonize “flesh and blood” adversaries—especially cultural and political ones—and to believe that healing comes when we take them all down.

But the truth is, we’ve all done things that we’re ashamed of. We all know what it’s like to be enslaved by Satan’s lies. This film challenges me to approach sin not with weapons of shame and hatred, thinking that I’m immune, but with humility. To see others in all their complexity, and to encourage them that Jesus’ grace is for them, too.

Sure, KPop Demon Hunters is far from a devotional. But for a world tired of hating and hiding, it’s a story that we all need.

Eleanor Lee

Eleanor Lee (‘23) graduated from Calvin with degrees in computer science and writing. She grew up in South Carolina but currently lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She loves coffee, laughing, and bringing emojis to the workplace.