Do you think there’s something to be said about the way KPDH portrays capitalism and class inequality? Our protagonists are extremely wealthy people who openly enjoy and even celebrate their success. They have staff taking care of them after concerts, travel by private jet, are constantly adored by the public, and live in obvious luxury. The film presents this as something they earned through talent and hard work, aside from Rumi’s nepo baby status.
What feels strange to me is the contrast with Jinu, who is treated as a villain even though his desperation comes from poverty, hunger, and the inability to support his family. The movie makes him somewhat sympathetic, but it never really engages with the structural conditions behind his situation — especially the fact that the king had the power to help his family and chose not to. From what I’ve seen, the filmmakers also tend to describe Jinu’s backstory in very simplified terms, like “he did something bad and regrets it,” without much nuance.
I’m not saying KPDH should have been a film about class struggle, and I understand that its main focus is Rumi’s self-acceptance. K-pop is also already a very exploitative, capitalist industry, so maybe there was never going to be a version of this story that fully confronted those realities. Still, I think the film makes a curious choice by glamorizing the girls’ lavish lifestyle while framing Jinu’s poverty-driven desperation as morally corrupt. That contrast can feel insensitive, even if it was not intentional.
This is especially why I don’t fully agree with the claim that class struggle was never on the filmmakers’ minds. If it truly wasn’t, then why make Jinu’s shame so directly tied to poverty and social status? Maggie has also said she admires Bong Joon Ho, whose work — especially Parasite — is famously about class conflict. She also cited The Host as an inspiration, and Bong himself has spoken about that film as reflecting not just a creature, but a system that fails ordinary people. So to me, it seems unlikely that questions of class were completely absent from the creative process.
Another thing that stood out to me was Mira’s line in “Golden”: “Now that’s how I’m getting paid.” That doesn’t sound like a neutral statement to me. Given that Maggie and Chris described her family as very traditional and career-oriented, the line reads like Mira taking pride in succeeding financially through a path her family may not have valued.
(When I said “servants,” I wasn’t using it in a derogatory way either; I just meant the staff who care for them. Still, the imagery of people dressing them, carrying their things, and constantly catering to them gives off a very royal vibe, especially when contrasted with Jinu wanting access to the palace.)
My point about them “taking Bobby for granted” was more specific. Rumi pushes ahead with the Golden release without telling him, they hang up on him while he’s stressed, and they run off without even acknowledging him when he brings them snacks. He is left out of the final emotional resolution entirely, and that feels unfinished to me.
The food imagery also adds to the uncomfortable contrast. Jinu made a deal with Gwi-ma to escape starvation, while the girls can casually joke about eating huge amounts of food to prepare for a concert. Individually those moments are harmless, but together they deepen the sense of imbalance.
What bothers me most is that Huntrix’s attachment to wealth and fame is never really questioned, while Jinu is punished for centuries for wanting security and stability — things the girls already have in abundance. The story is sympathetic toward him as a victim of Gwi-ma, but much less generous when it comes to the poverty and social pressure that shaped his choices. And because his backstory is relatively underexplained, a lot of viewers seem to miss that nuance entirely.
The same issue appears in the ending. Rumi rejects the idea of a perfect honmoon and chooses one based on acceptance, which is emotionally satisfying, but it does not really resolve the structural problem the film introduces. The demons are still trapped beyond the honmoon, and the possibility of actual systemic change is left untouched. That is why I think the movie is strong on personal growth but weaker when it comes to moving from individual healing to broader social transformation. I really hope the sequel explores that more, because the story already opens the door to those themes — it just does not follow through.
But I'm probably just reading too much into something that isn't all that profound.
anyway, what you guys think?