Blog

Both “Golden” and “KPop Demon Hunters” have become a global phenomenon.

In a nutshell, “KPop Demon Hunters” dropped on Netflix in June, and it exploded. It’s the biggest movie ever to stream on the platform. Four songs from the film’s soundtrack sit on Billboard’s top 10, and the film landed the top spot at the domestic box office – a first for the streamer.

The film’s “I Want” song “Golden” sung by the fictional K-Pop girl band Huntr/X sits atop the Billboard Top 10 and is undeniably the song of the summer. Countless social media videos show parents playing the song on repeat for their children, and adults have no shame in sharing their sing-along moments for the world to see.

There’s no escaping “Golden.”

“KPop Demon Hunters” follows Huntr/X, the fictional K-pop girl group whose members double as demon hunters. When they’re not battling demons and saving the world, they’re lighting up the stage with catchy songs such as “Golden.” However, they face their toughest foe yet, the Saja Boys, a demon boy band who are out to steal Huntr/X’s fans and their souls. Through it all, Rumi, who is half-demon, has to face another demon, one of self-acceptance. Arden Cho, May Hong and Ji-young Yoo provide the speaking voices for Rumi, Mira and Zoey, respectively. EJAE, Rei Ami and Audrey Nuna provide the respective singing voices.

EJAE, a K-pop singer, is used to hearing her voice on demo tracks; hearing her voice and the songs played everywhere is taking getting used to. “Hearing it at H Mart on the radio. It’s weird,” she says.

The film’s popularity “hasn’t fully set in” for Cho. At a recent screening, she had a waitlist for her young nieces AND nephews. She understands its mass appeal regardless of age. Cho says, “It allows any human or person to feel like they can relate. It’s like they feel seen.”

The song is written by: EJAE, Mark Sonnenblick, IDO, 24, and TEDDY. IDO, 24, TEDDY, and Ian Eisendrath are the song’s producers.

In the movie, “Golden” sets up the idea of Rumi, Zoey and Mira working to protect the world from demons and seal the honmoon, a barrier separating demons from the real world.

The song blends both English and Korean seamlessly into its lyrics.

Speaking with Variety, EJAE said, “One of the biggest assets I brought to the movie, or when writing the songs, was being bilingual. It was important for our co-director, Maggie Kang, to have Korean in the lyrics, and I just love that it’s not just the verses; it was in the actual song too.”

She went on to say that cracking the actual song took a while. While they had a general idea of what the scene needed, the filmmakers gave a guideline: “It needed to have the word gold in it, and the feeling of what Rumi was going through.” It also needed to introduce the struggles of each member in the verses. She says, “It needed a pep talk and the idea that we can do this together.”

Thematically, it also needed to be empowering and follow the hero’s journey of feeling like an outsider.

In the song, Rumi’s vulnerabilities are revealed – “She’s incredibly hardworking and has that leadership. She puts her best foot forward, but she tries to hide her imperfections and flaws.”

EJAE admits the melody was one of the first things she came up with for the song. “That was the first thing that I came up with.” She confesses, “I actually wrote the melody on my way to the dentist.”

The idea of “gonna be Golden” lyrics came soon after. She took it to Sonnenblick and had mumbled those words to him on the rough takes. His reaction? “Oh my God!” EJAE says the inspiration continued, and they wrote it “super fast.”

EJAE didn’t just relate to Rumi’s struggles; she related to the words she wrote. As a former K-Pop trainee, that experience and pressure were something she tried to drop into the song’s bridge. Once she had that, she says the bridge too came together with ease. “Going through that experience helped a lot in writing and emoting the melody and lyrics.”

Some of your most interesting work comes when you feel like you’re skating on thin ice. On Splitsville, director Michael Angelo Covino and I leaned into the imperfections that come with shooting on film with older lenses and doing fewer takes. Riding that razor’s edge of getting the shot or not getting it — we live for that.

Mike is drawn to French cinema made during the 1970s, when the introduction of sync-sound reflex cameras meant you could run out with a battery and a small crew and just make something. We wanted Splitsville to honor that spirit; we worked with the mindset that we would strive to create something special without bogging it down with too many tools or people. We wanted the look to come across as intentional yet raw.

Mike understands how to highlight the absurdity of the human experience, and to that end, Splitsville moves from moments of minimalism and simplicity to extreme maximalism. We sought to constantly upend our relationship with the audience so they’d never be completely comfortable with the story we’re telling. The extended fight scene, which places the viewer right inside a brawl between Carey (Kyle Marvin) and Paul (Mike) after the former tells the latter he has slept with his wife, Julie (Dakota Johnson), falls firmly on the maximal side of this tonal spectrum.

Broken Home: Choosing the Fight Scene’s Location

For our fight-scene location, we chose a modernist lake house that best represented the type of second home we thought Paul’s character would have — something beautiful that felt connected to the water and nature, but still felt like a bold, modern statement of wealth and abundance. We then discussed what within the environment might be possible to break, and which spaces would be most fun to move through. We considered how the scene could start out simply as a moment of believable dialogue; then move into a wrestling match; and then have it devolve into a fight for the characters’ lives that would include breaking pottery and glasses, smashing tables, bodies being thrown down stairs, a fish tank blowing up, and finally, the characters crashing through a window into a swimming pool, all of which was written specifically in the script.

Our production designer, Stephen Phelps, then helped build furniture pieces and windows for our actors to break. Kyle and Mike worked with stunt coordinator Tyler Hall on the scene every night after prep. At first, their extreme devotion boggled my mind, but it was clear they understood that this early scene would set the tone for the rest of the film.

Doubling Down on No Stunt Doubles

Kyle and Mike didn’t have stunt doubles for any part of the sequence. This was a point of pride for them. Early on, I told them the only way the scene would work would be with doubles, and that I didn’t think they would go at each other hard enough, but subconsciously, I think I might have been challenging them! At times, it felt like the three of us were all daring each other to grab the electric fence. I told them they’d have to commit 100 percent or it wouldn’t work, and to their credit, they did it. It’s also true that if your actors can perform something like this themselves, the results look better because you’re not hiding physical actions either with the camera or in the edit. I always push to do things practically even if it means rethinking how we shoot a scene, and here, we leaned into what’s happening in the moment onscreen.

Camera Techniques and Oners

We aimed to approach every moment within the sequence as one shot and managed to achieve this in capturing the portion of the fight that takes place in the downstairs area of the house. For the first part of this shot, our Steadicam operator, Andre Perron, rested the Steadicam on an apple box so the shot would feel more locked off; at this point, the shot has a feeling of tension, but it’s also humorous. From there, the confrontation between Carey and Paul slowly escalates. Once the fight is fully underway, the two men fly into the study; at that moment, Andre lifted the Steadicam off the apple box and moved with them into this new room. Following this portion of the fight, Carey and Paul end up back in the living room, then move into the kitchen, then onto the stairwell, with the action in each room covered via the same Steadicam move.

Also Read: Adam Newport-Berra on Crafting “The Oner” for The Studio

I love oners; if anything, my work over the last couple of years has shown that shooting them is my dream scenario. But because Kyle and Mike performed their own stunts, and because Splitsville is a comedy about humanity — not an action movie — I also felt that some additional coverage would help the scene, even if it was just one punctuated move that sells the impression of a hit landing harder or a line landing funnier. So, we peppered in these little moments throughout. We shot a reverse on Paul for the beginning of the scene, but chose to remain wide, to keep our distance. This allows the viewer to observe that Paul is reacting, but not completely read into how he feels. We also captured some more extreme angles of the beginning of the wrestling — with one camera on the floor when the characters topple to the ground, to help sell the impact and signal a turning point in the fight; and a top shot of some of their wrestling maneuvers, to help better show their faces and play up the comedy of their lines. For the upstairs portion of the shoot, we added an underwater shot in the bathtub, to reveal Carey’s face as Paul tries to drown him in the tub. We also added close ups here and there for reactions, dialogue, or reveals, like when we see that Carey is missing his eyebrows.

Choosing — and Shattering — Glass

For the majority of the fight sequence, we used a Panavision Ultra Speed “Z” MKII series 24mm prime lens. (This lens, paired with Arri’s Arricam LT, our main camera, was occasionally exchanged with other glass in Panavision’s Ultra Speed and “Z” series.) The 24mm felt most natural and honest for the material — it’s wide but not distorted, the camera moves feel dynamic, and it proved versatile in finding wide or tight frames in the sequence seamlessly.

Our real set pieces — where things really got challenging — came when the fight moves upstairs. During this part, Carey and Paul move into Paul’s son’s room and Paul ends up breaking his son’s massive fish tank by throwing a bowling ball at it. We needed a tank that would be big enough to make an impression on the viewer, but every gallon of water weighs 8 pounds, and our tank held about 60 gallons that would eventually be spilled out. The house we shot in was brand new, and the owners were, understandably, worried. So, our art department designed and built a reservoir that looked like the floor of the room but was covered by carpet; the reservoir weighed about 3,000 pounds and held about 250 gallons, which allowed us to catch all of that water to prevent it from seeping into the floorboards.

On top of all that, we only had one take to shoot the upstairs material. We had special effects supervisor David Loveday remotely controlling a detonator that broke the fish-tank glass, which had to be perfectly timed with the throwing of the bowling ball. We wanted to capture this moment in camera, and although we did shoot coverage, we took care to avoid cheap cutaways. We needed to see the aftermath of the broken glass and water everywhere with the camera rolling. This was one of the few times we decided to have two cameras rolling to make sure we got the shot. All of this was terrifying, but in the end, we pulled it off.

Out of Window, Under Water

Another challenging moment to capture is when Carey and Paul break through the upstairs-hallway window and land in the pool outside. The production built a set that replicated the end of the hallway next to the actual window, and we stitched that together with shots in the hallway. We have a POV shot of Carey and Paul rushing through the window and a profile shot, for which we blocked the house with our set piece to capture them as they crash through the window and land on a mat off camera. We used a 35mm “Z” series lens in this shot to compress the background of the environment and ensure the set felt congruent with the geography of the location.

The jump for Mike and Kyle was about 15 feet down, and Mike tackling Kyle through breakaway glass had them cut up and bloodied. Shooting on film, we couldn’t watch anything back; we had to just pray the film would come back. We also shot the break through the window at high speed on an Arri 435 Xtreme, which made things even riskier. We did one take, which went well enough. After some discussion, we decided there was no reason to risk doing another one, so we moved on to our aquatic work to capture the moments following the characters’ landing in the pool and their continuation of the fight underwater.

We spent a morning shooting Mike and Kyle beating the hell out of each other underwater, using the 435 Xtreme, which was fitted into a HydroFlex RemoteAquaCam Mk5 housing.

Shooting underwater — especially on film — is difficult, because you don’t see what you get until you develop the film. Focus marks change with the flat-front attachment, so our 1st AC, Nico Marion, had to be very calculated in his focus-pulling efforts. On a bigger film, one would probably have another unit prepped to do this, but on our more modest budget, this was just an hour of an otherwise jam-packed day, so we really couldn’t afford to miss the shot. We just dove right in, and everyone nailed it.

I would never pressure an actor to do something they aren’t comfortable with, but a sequence like this one is always better when it’s practical and done as much with the actors as possible. It takes a lot of faith. If the actors are going to risk their safety, they must trust that I can capture that performance and deliver it in a way that makes it all worth it. It goes to show how important the relationships between cinematographers and actors are, and how much we rely on one another for success.

All images courtesy of Neon.

Part of the magic of portraiture is how it renders so much of the human experience accessible to us, things we might never see otherwise. This has been very much on Black artist Amy Sherald’s mind. When I spoke to her in advance of the debut of her exhibition American Sublime, she told me that Black representation was foundational to her practice: “I developed this idea that, when I look at art history, for the most part I don’t see portraits of people that look like me. So it started there.”

That exhibition’s curator, Sarah Roberts, also spoke about Sherald’s passion for representing the LGBTQ+ community: “Amy has thought a lot about her role as an artist and the need for representation, and she has long been a champion of LGBTQ+ rights. This work is thinking about who gets depicted as being American.”

It was no surprise, then, that Sherald would have a very strong reaction when the Smithsonian attempted to censor Trans Forming Liberty, a portrait that she made of the Black trans woman Arewà Basit, out of American Sublime in advance of its arrival there. As Sherald told the New Yorker: “Trans Forming Liberty challenges who we allow to embody our national symbols – and who we erase. It demands a fuller vision of freedom, one that includes the dignity of all bodies, all identities … This portrait is a confrontation with that truth.”

More than just censoring Trans Forming Liberty from American Sublime to appease the Trump administration, the Smithsonian added insult to injury when it suggested that Sherald replace her artwork with a video of cisgender people debating whether or not trans people deserved inclusion in American society. The artist lost no time in responding to these actions by pulling her show from the Smithsonian.

The skirmish over Sherald’s piece highlights the importance of trans representation in the artwork that hangs in our museums and galleries – a 2022 Pew poll found that less than half of Americans believed that they had ever met a trans person, meaning that seeing representation such as Sherald’s might add a dose of empathy and connection to a community that is in need of compassion from cisgender Americans. At the time when the trans community is being demonized with the fervor of a moral panic, it is no exaggeration to say that such encounters are transformational.

The Bay Area trans artist Éamon McGivern has made trans portraiture central to his artistic practice. His collection, Still Lives, a Trans Portrait Project, was recently shown in the Tenderloin Museum in San Francisco as a tribute to his connection with the trans community.

McGivern was appalled, although not surprised, at the idea that trans people are now being erased from museums with strong ties to the federal government. “We’re at a point where you can’t show a picture of a trans person at a federally funded institution and that’s bad, that’s fascism,” he said. “If cis artists are being asked to edit, what does that mean for queer and trans people?

He awarded Sherald points for understanding the importance of representing trans people in her art. “Since Sherald’s an artist of color, I’m sure she has to think these issues through more than the average person. The fact that she cares enough about trans people enough to include them in her body of work means that she gets it.”

While showing his work, McGivern has frequently seen cisgender people have to wrestle with their preconceived stereotypes around who trans people actually are. “The response I get from cisgender people is that they didn’t know trans people looked like that,” he said. “And that really opened my eyes, where I’m like: ‘Wow, people have such a narrow view.’ That we can just be normal people living normal lives.”

McGivern sees trans portraiture as far more than just a way of acquainting cisgender viewers with the trans experience. He shared that his series of portraits of trans people came out of his own experience of isolation after undergoing gender-affirming surgery: “I lost my housing during recovery from top surgery,” he said. “I looked around, and I realized that I didn’t have any capital T trans people in my life. I needed trans people around me who got it.”

Painting portraits of trans people became a lifeline at the very time he needed it: his art helped him build exactly the community he was in search of. “I started reaching out to people who I thought were cool hot trans people. I wanted to show portraits of people who were not alone and in community. Reaching out to people who seemed to have that in their lives, showing that in my art was subconsciously a way of getting that for myself.”

Like McGivern, Atlanta artist Sean La’Mont began creating trans portraits as a way of being in community. She recalled that in 1997 she began to frequent drag clubs and was astonished by the beauty of the trans women who danced there. “I thought: ‘Wow, these are amazing people!’ and it was that curiosity that started me drawing them.”

La’Mont’s years of drawing the trans community have brought her into contact with some astonishing trans people, including surgeon Dr Marci Bowers, who is considered one of the top vaginoplasty surgeons in the world. La’Mont recalled that at a trans health symposium in Atlanta she got the chance to come face to face with a personal hero – and draw her portrait.

“I was invited to do a show with the Trans Symposium, and Bowers happened to be the guest speaker that year,” she recalled. “The event organizers asked me to draw her, and then they presented it to her at the event. She was so gracious about it. She’s been an idol, she’s pretty incredible.”

For La’Mont, it’s the love of her community that has kept her inspired to draw portraits of trans people for decades now, something she’s eager to share with the cisgender population. “Art reflects how people live and love, and some of the greatest pieces are the ones that show how we live and love. I see their reaction, it’s like: ‘Oh my God, that’s beautiful.’”