Apocalypse crayon

If you're over 30, you have not watched the most popular animated movie in the world right now.

- RAJA SEN

Unless, of course, you are a parent. There exists a vast, brightly lit playground of content where grown-ups without children never wander, and within that candy-coloured wilderness, KPop Demon Hunters has planted its glitter-tipped flag. Six weeks after its 25 June release, the Netflix original became the most-watched animated film in the platform's history.

This matters not merely because of the numbers (though those are gargantuan, with 158.8 million total views placing it fourth among all of Netflix's English-language films) but because it proves that the "adult market" is no longer the beating heart of global entertainment. The children, the tweens, and the fervid fan-armies are in charge. The rest of us can either watch, or be left out of the conversation entirely. We may be one pop chorus away from singing Baby Shark at cocktail parties just to fit in.

What KPop Demon Hunters truly signals is that the "mature" adult market is now a minority demographic in global media consumption. Our prestige-TV discussions, our Oscar-bait dramas, our limited-series think-pieces? They are but niche pursuits compared to the universal reach of a K-pop anthem paired with demon-slaying choreography.

Directed by Maggie Kang and Chris Appelhans for Sony Pictures Animation, KPop Demon Hunters is exactly what its title promises, and then some: a neon mash-up of K-drama emotionality, splash pages, anime fight physics, and arena-style concert lighting. The story follows Huntr/x, a girl group whose day job is selling out stadiums, and whose night shifts involve slicing through supernatural baddies with otherworldly flair. Their power source? "Honmoon" energy—something that is part spiritual essence, part chart-topper adrenaline.