Lost in Starlight (Source: Netflix)

Lost in Starlight (Source: Netflix)

Is the energy of the universe really converging in Korea? The global success of the animated film KPop Demon Hunters, released on Netflix on June 20, feels almost surreal. We know K-pop has taken the world by storm, but KPop Demon Hunters? K-pop idols—not Ma Dong-seok—fighting demons with music? As unusual reactions spread worldwide, the phenomenon belatedly began resonating in Korea too. Suddenly, questions like, “Have you seen KPop Demon Hunters?” were coming from all directions. The revelation that the film was actually produced in the United States, not Korea, only added to the intrigue. For Koreans, it is undeniably fascinating that an American-made animation, draped head to toe in “K” and going far beyond simply performing K-pop numbers, is now sweeping across the globe.

Still, the fact remains that KPop Demon Hunters is a Hollywood animation. It originated as a fan faction by a Korean-Canadian director long enamored with K-pop. If such a project had been conceived in Korea, it might have fallen victim to self-deprecating criticism along the lines of, “Isn’t this just drowning in nationalistic hype? ” But praise from abroad always seems to carry more weight. The very fact that the United States—home to the world’s most dominant pop culture industry and market—produced a high-quality K-pop animation has, ironically, given Koreans an opportunity to rediscover not only K-pop but Korean culture as a whole. As a result, calls for greater attention to Korean animation have grown louder. Paradoxically, a work that is not even Korean has become the spark reigniting discussions about Korea’s own animation industry and market. Fortunately, there is a Korean animation ready to serve as a point of comparison.

The King of Kings (Source: D-Station) stirred the North American box office,
while KPop Demon Hunters (Source: Netflix) swept audiences worldwide in a K-culture wave.

Similar Yet Strikingly Different Localization Strategies In April, a Korean animation that premiered in the United States caused a stir by soaring to second place at the North American box office. That film was The King of Kings, which managed to recoup its massive KRW 36 billion production budget by its second week of release. Earning more than USD 60 million in the U.S. alone, it even surpassed the North American box office record set by Parasite (2019). In Korea, the film was released later, on July 16, and within just a month attracted more than 1.2 million viewers — a number that continues to grow. If KPop Demon Hunters was a film not made in Korea yet able to captivate both Korean and global audiences with its overtly Korea-oriented concept, then The King of Kings represents the opposite: a film produced in Korea that deliberately stripped away overt “Korean-ness” in order to target the global market. In this way, the two works are strikingly similar yet fundamentally different.

Directed by Jang Seong-ho, CEO of Mofac Studios — a company that has played a pivotal role in developing Korea’s visual effects (VFX) industry — The King of Kings was inspired by Charles Dickens’s The Life of Our Lord. The film tells the story of Jesus, from his birth to his resurrection, framed through a father’s promise to recount the tale to his son, who idolizes King Arthur. Director Jang devoted nearly a decade to the project beginning in 2015, with the clear goal of creating an animation for the U.S. market. Some critics viewed it as a film that sought to merge faith with commercial appeal, pointing out its strategic timing around the Easter season. Yet the film’s ratings remained solid, and audience drop-off after opening week was relatively small. Much of its success was credited to positive word of mouth, fueled by favorable evaluations of the animation’s overall quality.

Above all, The King of Kings erased any overt sense of Korean nationality, instead choosing themes and subject matter easily embraced by the North American market. The success of this approach has made it an important case study within the Korean animation industry. Another strategic move was casting top-tier voice actors familiar to U.S. audiences. The credits include some of Hollywood’s biggest names — Oscar Isaac, Pierce Brosnan, Kenneth Branagh, Uma Thurman, Forest Whitaker, and Ben Kingsley. Their participation likely played a major role in boosting audience confidence at the time of the U.S. release. What is especially notable is that all of the actors agreed to take part after reading the script, suggesting that The King of Kings resonated with Hollywood talent as an engaging story that did not feel foreign or out of place.

The film premiered in Korea later than in the U.S., opening domestically in July. For the Korean release, the dubbing featured well-known actors such as Lee Byung-hun, Lee Ha-nee, and Jin Seon-kyu, which further heightened the film’s visibility. In just over a month, it drew more than 1.2 million viewers, recording the second-highest box office performance ever for a Korean animated film. Its identity as a Korean animation that had already succeeded abroad fueled strong curiosity among domestic audiences. At the same time, it appears the film found dual appeal — embraced both by Christians and by parents seeking an educational story suitable for children.

A Time of Strategic Trial and Error Even before The King of Kings, there had been Korean animations conceived with the U.S. market in mind. One notable example was Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs (2019), produced by Locus Studio. The film reimagined the classic Western fairy tale Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in a modern style, designed to give Western audiences both familiarity and a fresh perspective. Above all, as a 3D animation, it showcased an advanced level of visual expression that was considered a major achievement at the time. This was made possible through the contributions of Director Kim Sang-jin, the first Korean to serve as a lead animator at Disney Animation Studios, and the perseverance of Director Hong Sung-ho, who founded Locus Studio to establish Korean 3D animation and devoted more than a decade to developing Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs.

Produced with a budget of KRW 22 billion, financed entirely by domestic investors, the film was created from the start with the United States and overseas markets in mind. Casting Hollywood stars such as Chloë Grace Moretz and Sam Claflin as English dub actors was also a strategic move to position the film for international release. In that sense, its ambitions mirrored those of The King of Kings. However, Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs was released first in Korea, where it attracted 820,000 viewers. While not a poor performance for a Korean animation, it fell far short of covering its production costs. Fortunately, through sequential releases in 120 countries, the film eventually recovered a respectable level of revenue. Although it did not make a major impact in the North American market, it did gain recognition for its quality by being shortlisted for Best Animated Feature at the 93rd Academy Awards.

The blockbuster-scale animation Wonderful Days (Source: A1 Entertainment) was later reappraised
for its outstanding visual artistry, despite initial criticism of its storyline.

Yumi’s Cells: The Movie (Source: CJ CGV) and Exorcism Chronicles: The Beginning (Source: Showbox)
demonstrated the potential of Korean animation to gain global popularity.

Director Hong Sung-ho, who founded Locus Studio, had previously worked on the visual effects for Wonderful Days (2003). Since then, he maintained a strong interest in 3D animation production, which ultimately led him to establish the studio. After Red Shoes and the Seven Dwarfs, his team went on to produce Yumi’s Cells: The Movie (2024), an animated adaptation of the popular drama Yumi’s Cells. This year, they introduced an animated version of author Lee Woo-hyuk’s legendary Korean occult novel series The Demon War Chronicles with Exorcism Chronicles: The Beginning. Although there were initial concerns about whether the adaptation could live up to the reputation of the original, as well as doubts about the quality of the artwork and direction, the final product successfully highlighted the strengths of the novel while modernizing its late-20th-century worldview for a contemporary audience. As a result, the film received favorable reviews and attracted more than 500,000 viewers, earning recognition as a solid performer in the market.

In other words, there is no such thing as a meaningless attempt. Back in 2003, Wonderful Days was reported to have received an unprecedented investment of more than KRW 11 billion. Although it showcased a visual style far ahead of its time, the film was heavily criticized for its weak storytelling and ended up a box office bomb. As a result, it has often been blamed for discouraging further investment in Korean animation. In recent years, however, the film has been re-evaluated, with many noting that, given the technology available at the time, it achieved remarkable visual feats for a Korean production. Still, at the time of its release, it was widely regarded as nothing short of an industrial disaster.

By contrast, the success of Locus Studio’s Exorcism Chronicles: The Beginning, which once again reminded audiences of the potential of Korean animation, is welcome in many ways. The biggest challenge for Korean animation has long been the absence of a defining brand or figure to represent the industry. Unlike Disney, Pixar, DreamWorks, or Ghibli, there are few Korean studios that immediately come to mind. Likewise, it is difficult to point to towering individual creators whose names symbolize the industry in the way Hayao Miyazaki, Makoto Shinkai, or Mamoru Hosoda do for Japan.

The Road Called Life (Source: Idaltu), The Shower (Source: Little Big Pictures),
and The Shaman Sorceress (Source: Cinepirun) are all works that reflect Korean tradition and sentiment.

Deficiencies and Potential of the Korean Animation Industry Even within Korea’s underdeveloped animation industry, there are creators who have consistently worked to produce high-quality projects. One notable example is Director Ahn Jae-huun, who runs Studio MWP (Meditation With a Pencil) and has steadily created works rooted in his signature pencil-sketch style. Over the past several years, he has focused on adapting Korean short stories into animated films. His projects include The Road Called Life (2014), based on the works of Lee Hyo-seok (When Buckwheat Flowers Bloom), Hyun Jin-geon (A Lucky Day), and Kim Yu-jeong (Spring, Spring); Hwang Sun-won’s The Shower (2017); and Kim Dong-ni’s The Shaman Sorceress (2021). Each of these reflects a deep engagement with Korean tradition and sentiment. Notably, The Shaman Sorceress became the first Korean animation to compete at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival, often referred to as the “Cannes of Animation,” where it won the Jury’s Special Award in the Contrechamp feature competition. However, after completing this project, Ahn decided not to continue with the short literature adaptation series. As meaningful and valuable as these works were, securing theatrical releases proved extremely difficult, and it was not sustainable to keep producing films that could not be widely shown. Now, Ahn Jae-huun and his team are preparing to release two new feature-length animations: Gills (based on Gu Byeong-mo’s novel of the same name and already invited to the 2024 Annecy Animation Festival’s Contrechamp feature section) and A Thousand Years Together.

Today, the driving force of the animation market is the younger 10s–20s demographic. The explosive enthusiasm of this generation was a decisive factor behind the box office success of The First Slam Dunk and Suzume in 2023. A similar trend could be seen with the theatrical releases of recent Japanese anime such as Demon Slayer and Jujutsu Kaisen, which drew massive crowds to theaters. Once referred to as “Japanimation” and considered in Korea mainly a niche genre for devoted fans, Japanese animation has now gained strong mainstream support among younger audiences. This shift is due in part to the Japanese industry’s well-developed system of adapting innovative works from its deep manga traditions — built up over decades — into successful animations. The ability to consistently produce defining works for each new generation is hardly a matter of chance.

Creators who have long struggled within the Korean animation industry often lament how difficult it is to secure theatrical releases, not to mention the broader challenge of reaching mainstream audiences. Producing animation is grueling work. In Korea’s production environment — where both budgets and manpower are limited — creators who persevere through sheer will and passion to complete their projects find it all the more painful when those hard-won works are given little chance to see the light of day. Within this context, over-the-top (OTT) platforms offer a new horizon. Global platforms such as Netflix not only provide domestic accessibility but also propel Korean works onto the world stage. In doing so, they present an outlet for exploring possibilities beyond the limits of Korea’s fragile domestic market.

In this regard, Director Han Ji-won’s Lost in Starlight, released on Netflix on May 30, stands out as an important case. If KPop Demon Hunters had been released only in theaters rather than on Netflix, would it have become such a rapid and powerful phenomenon? Would it have achieved the same unified global impact? While the symbolism and profitability of a theatrical release remain significant, the reach and influence of a global OTT platform are equally compelling — especially given the unstable conditions of Korea’s animation market. Platforms like Netflix can serve as a strategic pathway not only domestically but also internationally, by absorbing commercial risks, securing a broader audience, and unlocking the full potential of intellectual property (IP).

Of course, Lost in Starlight did not generate the explosive response of KPop Demon Hunters. However, it remains undeniably important for a young director — one who already has experience helming feature-length theatrical animations such as Clearer Than You Think (2015) and The Summer (2023), and who pursues a distinctly contemporary sensibility — to gain the opportunity to build experience in a wider market. Lost in Starlight, which carries faint traces of Makoto Shinkai’s influence, is set in a futuristic Seoul of the 2050s and blends a science-fiction universe with the emotional tones of romance. In doing so, it ventures into new territory, exploring genres and themes that Korean animation had not previously engaged with. Overseas, the film has even been described as “a rare opportunity to stream a large-scale Korean animation.” For this reason, rather than clinging to the narrow prospects of a domestic theatrical release, it may be more valuable for Korean animation to actively pursue broader opportunities through global OTT platforms, which make works available without the constraints of time and place. Indeed, the success of KPop Demon Hunters may serve as an unexpected foothold for Korean animation — still an underdog on the global stage — to appeal to international audiences.

The Need for a Name to Represent the Industry Last year, with the exception of Netflix, most OTT services in Korea and abroad struggled to escape structural deficits. Amid this, the animation-focused OTT platform Laftel drew attention by achieving the rare feat of turning a profit. The box office strength of animation — supported primarily by audiences in their teens and twenties — seems to have had a positive impact on Laftel’s branding strategy as a specialist platform. This stands as a clear indicator that domestic demand for animation does indeed exist, and it is a signal the industry should take seriously.

Meanwhile, Heartsping: Teenieping of Love, which attracted 1.23 million viewers last year, serves as proof that a larger-scale icon has now emerged within the lineage of Korean children’s animation. From early on, works such as Pororo, Hello Carbot, and Baby Shark have quietly proven themselves to be steady earners, reliably generating box office revenue. Their popularity extends not only within Korea but also overseas. Above all, animation carries value that extends far beyond the act of viewing itself: it drives consumer behavior with virtually unlimited profitability, particularly through character merchandise and related goods.

In truth, the so-called “era of Korean animation” still feels like a unicorn — often talked about when the timing seems right, yet never quite arriving, existing more in hope and belief than in reality. And yet, the very fact that its potential continues to be discussed shows that there are still creators and directors staking their calling on animation, alongside producers and studios determined to support and propel them forward. Above all, what matters is that, despite such a barren environment, new works continue to emerge. Two films scheduled for release in October this year — Bad Girl: Run Hani and Your Letter — stand out for the nostalgia they evoke in different ways. Bad Girl: Run Hani is especially meaningful as it commemorates the 40th anniversary of the beloved 20th-century TV animation Run Hani, remade into a theatrical feature for a new era. Meanwhile, Your Letter, based on the webtoon of the same name, feels refreshing as a tender teenage story told in the now-rare format of 2D animation.

Meanwhile, there is one animation many are eagerly awaiting: The Valley (working title), directed by Bong Joon ho. Reportedly the most expensive animation in Korean history, with a production budget of KRW 70 billion, the film is slated for worldwide release in 2027. Said to explore the relationship between deep-sea marine life and human beings, The Valley is by definition global in scope rather than local. As a Bong Joon ho project, it naturally stirs enormous curiosity, but for VFX company 4th Creative Party — less well-known than industry giant Dexter Studios — it will also stand as a prestigious milestone in its portfolio. Of course, there are concerns about the staggering investment, a sum difficult to imagine within the Korean film industry. Yet whatever the risks, the project represents a step into uncharted territory for Korean animation. Above all, what the industry urgently needs right now is a symbolic name — something capable of convincing audiences and investors alike of its long-term value. Perhaps the naming of “K-animation” itself will begin here. Either way, the outcome of The Valley is one to watch closely.

But the advancement of Korean animation cannot hinge on the success or failure of just one or two films. What is truly needed is a pipeline that can sustain achievement over time. This, in turn, requires an ecosystem — environment, infrastructure, and policy support — that encourages continuous attempts and new discoveries. In that sense, what is most urgent is still a name: whether it be a studio or a creator, a symbolic figure who can embody the industry and persuade others of its investment value. The so-called “era of K-animation” may still feel like a unicorn, elusive and out of reach. But perhaps it is precisely such a unicorn — charging forward under a name that commands recognition — that can lead Korean animation into its long-awaited future.

#Animation #KoreanAnimation #K-Animation #KPopDemonHunters # ExorcismChronicles:TheBeginning #LostInStarlight #TheKingOfKings