With animation’s potential for sweeping, dynamic movement and eye-catching design, it’s no surprise that practically every preschool cartoon (and more than a few studio blockbusters) makes time for the characters to burst into song. But the team behind K-Pop: Demon Hunters has taken this relationship between sight and sound to another level, bringing K-pop to the screen in the tale of three music idols. In their band called HUNTR/X, they must use the magic generated by their fandom to seal the barrier to a demon world.
As a huge fan of K-pop, first-time feature Director Maggie Kang had a specific vision for this project. So specific, in fact, that the storyboarded animatic she used to pitch the concept eventually became the film’s opening sequence. In it, the idols use a combination of dance and fight choreography to take down a group of demons posing as flight attendants on the way to their next gig. Kang captured the precision and synchronicity of her favorite music genre, and Sony gave it the green light.
When HUNTR/X isn’t selling out stadiums, they don their hunter gear to protect their fans from demons.Moving forward, Kang constructed a reference library filled with images, videos, and performances so that the crew could understand what she was going for. She co-wrote the screenplay with Danya Jimenez, Hannah McMechan, and Director Chris Appelhans, and she and Appelhans did intensive launches with every department, making sure their goals were clear.
A keystone question was always: ‘Does this look as cool and glamorous as a K-pop performance?—Chris Appelhans
The crew took it a step further, becoming experts in K-pop and even attending a BLACKPINK concert together (as research, of course). “I saw 50,000 fans of all ages at Dodger Stadium, waving their light sticks, and I became an instant fan,” says Ryan Savas, Head of Story. Their newfound appreciation for the popular music genre was passionately infused into their work.
Story Artist Bridget Underwood recalls lying on their couch, listening to the songs over and over, feeling out the rhythmic energy. In most films, artists either board to finished songs or to pre-existing temp tracks with the final music added later, but in this process, they worked as the music was being written. Rhythm, choreography, and visual cues were always changing, and this led to endless chances to get things right.
In one version of a musical sequence to the song “Soda Pop,” the story team began with surreal, larger-than-life soda can visuals. But by the final iteration, they landed on a more grounded version. It showed rival demon band the Saja Boys onstage winning over a crowd, stealing HUNTR/X’s fans. The result was a sequence that simultaneously captured a heightened K-pop performance and kept the narrative going.
Keeping It Real
In the early design stages, Kang and Appelhans had a clear aesthetic in mind. “A keystone question was always: ‘Does this look as cool and glamorous as a K-pop performance?’” says Appelhans. “But the other side of it was: ‘Does this look real?’” For the idols’ flashiest, most heightened designs, they referenced traditional Korean textile patterns and hairstyles, updating them with modern silhouettes. But when the idols were chilling on their days off, Kang wanted them to have a make-up-free look. The film’s climax hinges on Rumi, the main idol, learning to be honest about her flaws, so having some “real” looks throughout the film was important.
Production Designer Dave Bleich and Art Director Wendell Dalit emphasized this further in their lighting choices. They looked to K-dramas, where soft, minimalist lighting makes characters appear flawless and perfect, de-emphasizing anything they might want hidden. But in the climactic battle-slash-performance scene, the lighting shines, showing the unadorned Rumi to the world.
Along with lighting, the team leaned into color, to distinguish between the idols’ magic and the demons’. They also approached it as a tool for recreating the visual language of K-Pop. Live music direction and music videos have color stories. The whole design team studied relentlessly to get it right. “We’ve all been to concerts,” says Bleich. “You have all these colors flashing, but when you think about how to tell a story, you have to strip specific colors away to make the narrative clear.”
To achieve this look they wanted, they even tried new production strategies. Dalit is used to painting over still images, but for the concert sequences, he had to paint color over moving footage and extend keyframes to make sure the color design stayed dynamic throughout the sequence, moving in time with the characters and the music.
This was key, because beyond color and lighting, K-pop is also heavily dependent on movement. Idols’ actions are precise and deliberate, with choreography so distinctive it has spawned dance classes where fans learn to imitate the style. “They’re almost robotic, it’s so synchronized,” says Kang. She was aware of what’s known as the “uncanny valley” effect, where animated characters look almost human but are unnatural in a scarcely discernible way that leaves viewers feeling uneasy. To avoid this, while directing musical sequences, she had to walk a fine line between keeping the dancing true to life and manipulating the poses to ensure just enough of an animated feel.
Grand Delusions
Kang’s massive collection of references was used in all aspects of production. For example, the team drew inspiration from K-dramas for Rumi’s romance with bad boy demon Jinu. Their first meeting, in which he bumps into her and knocks her down, is full of rapid cuts from different angles—a classic heightened meet-cute. And Rumi’s efforts to keep a major secret from the other idols are filled with familiar physical gags to push suspense.
But it was K-pop references that played the most crucial role. As the film moved into animation, Kang relished being able to send out videos of her favorite K-pop performances and get back rigs that perfectly captured all that she’d hoped for and more. “We couldn’t even describe what we wanted, but they just knew,” she says. K-pop became a language for the crew—they could communicate what they wanted with just a few YouTube links.
K-Pop: Demon Hunters is more than a translation of its reference points into animation, though. The medium heightens the music genre, creating a new vision of K-pop that isn’t achievable in live action. “Monet can paint a stack of hay bales and elevate them in a way you could never get with a photograph,” says Appelhans.
With the specificity of all the references and the innovation required to bring them to animated life, Kang and Appelhans knew they were asking a lot from their crew. Every frame was the product of numerous people working at the peak of their abilities. Kang wonders if she would have been as comfortable asking for so much if this hadn’t been her first film.
But Appelhans insists that her newness was a strength. “The last thing you want is for the person who’s bringing an original vision to be tempered by practicality,” he says. “Genuine unfiltered optimism and delusional vision is necessary to make things special.”
