The Smash Hit Musical Written for This Moment

Zoey, Rumi and Mira, the demon-hunting trio in K-Pop Demon Hunters

This week, I want to write something that helps me address the moment we entered, culturally, when Charlie Kirk was murdered, and the accused killer allegedly texted it was because, “I had enough of his hatred. Some hate can't be negotiated out.” Although the murder was immediately condemned by political leaders among Democrats and Republicans alike, there were others online who either celebrated, suggested that Kirk brought the murder on himself by his rhetoric, or nominated other prominent conservatives to be killed next. Then broadcasters were threatened with fines if they aired distorted commentary, ABC canceled comedian Jimmy Kimmel’s show after he suggested Kirk’s killer was a member of the “MAGA gang” and President Trump called on NBC to follow suit by canceling Jimmy Fallon and Seth Meyers.

This is not a political newsletter. But we’re experiencing an escalation of the polarization that undermines the Beloved Community.  So I’m going to write a review about K-Pop Demon Hunters, in a way that I hope will be accessible to both those who’ve seen the runaway smash hit, and those who haven’t yet. I’m going to try to keep this as spoiler free as possible but, if you don’t want spoilers and you are unaware of the story’s central conflict, maybe skip this newsletter.  I’m going to have to touch on that central conflict in order to explore some of the themes that connect with this moment. 

To start out, I just want to say that K-Pop Demon Hunters is proof that you can abandon the standard formula and still create a powerful musical that becomes a smash hit, if you’ve got a killer sound-track and a powerful message that speaks to widespread pain. K-Pop has both. It is also a unique blend of various story-teling traditions – anime, manga and musicals, all highlighting Korean pop. It manages to postpone the opening number (“How It’s Done”) to almost six minutes in, and it gives us two minutes of denouement after the finale. An “I Want” song? I guess maybe “Golden” kind of fits that bill, but only kind of. It shows us a portion of what our protagonist (Rumi) wants, but not why, because she’s so busy hiding her why that she doesn’t dare speak it.

The central conflict: Rumi is lead singer in a pop-superstar trio whose secret mission is to hunt and kill soul-sucking demons and eventually sing into being the Honmoon, a magical protection that banishes demonic evil from the world. Only, unbeknownst to the others, Rumi’s father was a demon and she’s a hybrid. She’s desperately trying to achieve her mission while hiding the tell-tale patterns on her own skin that mark her as worthy of death. And the patterns are beginning to spread, just as a super-hot demon boy-band arrives on the scene, intent on stealing (and extinguishing) the trio’s fans.

The Demon Boy-Band

Let’s get the things I don’t love about the show out of the way: 

1. The sexy violence. The trio are sexualized while slashing up and exploding the demons who threaten their fans. Later, we get to see them lusting after the demons they’re killing. This is just… disturbing. We don’t need more of the trope that claims killing, especially killing people we find attractive, is sexy.

The Hunters Make Killing Look Sexy

2. The unclear/squishy metaphysics. 

   1. Are the demons actually dying or are they just being sent back to the demon world? We get hints both ways. Also, what motivates them to continue serving a king who has only ever handed them unrelenting pain? 

   2. Are they mostly a different type of being than humans? Or are they all the spirits of humans who chose evil during their lifetimes (like the one demon we get to know). If the latter, why do they appear inhuman? And how is it that some humans seem to be consumed by the demons without choosing evil themselves? 

   3. I want to note that some of these problems may be fixed in the probable sequel. It’s quite possible that the world-building is solid and there just wasn’t time to clarify it all in this show. I’m looking forward to finding that out. 

3. The persistent, near-universal othering of the demons. We see one demon humanized in this story. All the rest remain dehumanized to the end, as evidenced by the sexy quips we hear as some of them are slaughtered. 

But oh, what this story has to say about the legendary power we can find when we face down shame, stop hiding, “get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead!” When a person decides “the scars are part of me, darkness and harmony” and raises their “voice without the lies,”  evil loses its power. 

The story also has some things to say about the relationship between shame in ourselves and our penchant for dehumanizing others. 

No More Hiding

Here are the takeaways that struck me, that I think apply to this moment. 

1. It is easy to bury our shame and spread overly-simplified narratives that justify our own actions by dehumanizing our enemies.

There has been a lot of that going on, leading up to the precarious moment we’re in. Tempting as it is to point the finger at the other guy, if instead we take a good, hard look at ourselves, we can see where we need to recover our humanity. If you lean liberal, you might take a look at this collection of horrifying responses to Kirk’s murder. If you lean conservative, maybe take a look at this article about dehumanizing rhetoric toward immigrants.

I doubt anyone reading this would engage in either type of commentary themselves. But when we look at the excesses on our side of the fence, it can make us more open to the concerns of our political opposites. Much of our public discussion about our political opposites portrays them as two-dimensional, distorted caricatures of themselves. The more we engage in such discussions, the less concern we feel for doing justice to our opponents. And the more they speak that way about us, the more we feel existentially threatened by their dehumanizing rhetoric. This leads to both sides trying to silence the other, using whatever means are at their disposal. And violence. 

2. Once we connect with the pain of the people we’ve dehumanized, the narratives we used to tell begin to choke us. 

This is good news. It means there’s a way back if we can find the courage to connect with the people we’ve become accustomed to viewing as our enemies. And “connect” does not mean “debate.” At least, not in the sense that we’ve become accustomed to debating, where we use another’s arguments against them, to make them look ridiculous. Connecting means listening and speaking with the purpose of understanding each other, and finding common ground. Braver Angels is at the forefront in providing opportunities for this kind of listening across political divides. If you’d like to try it, you might consider signing up for a Common Ground workshop. Or you could even join the seminar on Unmasking Manipulative Media that I will be leading for the next 8 Tuesday nights. Use the promo code “BRAVER” to get in free. I’d love to see you there!

3. When we find the courage to face our own failings and fears and then to speak up with deep authenticity, we give others courage to do the same. Hatred and malice don’t stand a chance against the harmony that we then create together. 

This is what we need to do. Summit Stages is going to help us achieve it with musicals. In the meantime, maybe watch “What It Sounds Like.” Then, let’s go and do like Rumi. 

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