“BTS: The Return” Documents an Identity Crisis, Not a Comeback

Asian and Asian American artists navigating Western pop culture bear the burden of never quite being able to truly exist as unique individuals and instead often are symbolic representations of entire groups of people. RM, Jin, SUGA, j-hope, Jimin, V, and Jung Kook, the seven idols of the global South Korean pop group BTS, are also acutely aware of the precarious position they occupy in the Western music landscape. 

Netflix’s feature-length documentary “BTS: The Return” follows the band members immediately after their mandatory military enlistment as they create their highly anticipated fifth studio album “Arirang.” The pressure to come back bigger and better than their previous successes is on full display, and the members are candid as they share their worries and fears.

“Being a part of a team like BTS is like wearing a big, incredible crown,” RM shares in the film. “Sometimes, the weight of the crown can feel so heavy, and it feels heavy to wear it at times.”

The heart of this documentary, helmed by acclaimed director Bao Nguyen, is a snapshot of each individual member struggling with the difficult balancing act of staying true to who BTS are as artists and individuals, while also trying to bring positive representation as some of the best known Koreans in the world. 

This particular feeling is a sentiment that Vietnamese American Nguyen knows extremely well. His “Be Water” documentary examined Bruce Lee’s legacy through the lens of Asian American representation, and though BTS members are South Korean, they occupy a similarly symbolic space for a lot of audiences.

“Just by seeing them have to thread this line of being Korean icons and global icons is something that parallels many of our experiences in the community as Asian Americans. What does it mean to belong to and feel sort of — not responsible necessarily but — feel connected to one group versus another,” Nguyen shared with Mochi. “BTS, they’re Korean Korean. They’re very Korean. But that’s the beauty of it too. How much do they have to show their ‘Koreanness’ in order to be BTS?” 

How Korean Is Korean Enough?

Structured in a way that both a complete stranger to BTS and their superfan can appreciate, Nguyen starts with grainy footage of BTS members at the beach. It’s a snippet of their first group livestream in Los Angeles after the eldest band member, Jin, who had just wrapped up a solo world tour, finally joins the rest of the band at a two-month song camp. 

The video is chaotic, like most of the band’s livestreams are, and their mutual affection and joy to connect with one another and their fans is evident on their faces. They seem like a group of normal young men, albeit better looking than most. 

Spliced in between the livestream is a quick history of the group that hits all their career highlights. From BTS’ debut in 2013 and humble beginnings with Big Hit Entertainment — a near bankrupt company that is now part of HYBE, the biggest K-pop company in the world — to the turning point when the seven grace the American Music Awards stage in 2017, then a subsequent meteoric rise and No. 1 Billboard hits, and finally, to a hiatus and military enlistment, the montage is informative without being overwhelming. 

The next 91 minutes tell a very clear story about BTS and the bandmates’ struggle to thread the needle on the “Koreaness” of their new album. Even the name of the album, “Arirang,” which they didn’t settle on until much later in the process at the suggestion of a staff member, is a reference to a traditional Korean folk song by the same name.

“‘Arirang’ is about the sorrows of longing. Koreans would sing ‘Arirang’ to move past this longing,” RM explains onscreen. “As a Korean person, featuring such a traditional song like ‘Arirang’ might feel a little too direct. That’s what I thought.” 

Nguyen elaborated on the discussions BTS had about the theme: “There’s a great conversation on the balcony where [BTS] talk about, like, ‘Whatever we make becomes our version of ‘Arirang.’ This is BTS’ version of ‘Arirang.’ Instead of trying to tailor it to a previous conceived notion of what ‘Arirang’ should be in the traditional sense, I think for us, too, as Asian Americans, what are we trying to tailor our Americanness as, right? Like us, as Asian Americans, that’s our version of America. We exist as our version of America; we are Americans, right? Those synergies, I found really interesting when I was making the film.”

Under Pressure

At what was arguably the height of the boy band’s career and fame, BTS announced a temporary hiatus in 2022, during which individual members pursued solo projects, tours, and completed their mandatory enlistment. It seemed like a wildly risky move and, in those four years, many other K-pop groups tried valiantly to fill their vacancy.

Now, saddled with the sky-high expectations of their fans, HYBE, and the music industry at large, the band members are in the unenviable position of following up their previous successes. 

The film fleshes out this tension through the narrative of two songs duking it out for the title track: rousing album opener “Body to Body,” which samples “Arirang,” and the slower, lyrical “SWIM.” Nguyen uses their candid discussions among each other and their staff to illustrate the conflict between being global versus Korean, artists versus employees with corporate responsibility, and individual versus fan desires.

“There’s a lot of conversations in the film about that. You know, how much English is included, or, like, how much of the audio ‘Arirang’ sample is included,” Nguyen explained.

We are shown a dialogue between rappers SUGA and RM, and Nicole Kim, a vice president at Big Hit Music. SUGA comments how they’d like to write more lyrics in Korean: “There’s too much English right now. Especially for rap verses.”

RM agrees, because for this album, “authenticity matters.” Kim agrees that authenticity is important, but in order for the album to go global, they need to try to incorporate more English. RM then counters with, “The challenge is that we are running out of time. We don’t even have time to get the pronunciations right.” 

Clearly, these seven men want so desperately not to let anyone down or get this wrong, and yet, they still want to enjoy the process of making music. 

“The reason I feel stressed is I want to enjoy making music freely, but it feels systematic, like working in a factory,” j-hope says at one point, to which Jin replies, “I don’t feel the burden … I know the results are important, but I want us to be happy while … if our fans and we are all happy with the process, wouldn’t that be nice?

Near the end of the film, HYBE chairman and chief producer for BTS Si-Hyuk Bang says that it’s impossible to deny that BTS is a “once-in-a-generation kind of icon,” adding that they can’t deny they are Koreans. However, the target audience is now “more and more a global one, no longer just Koreans, and that’s also undeniable.”

“Ultimately, at the heart of this album is one question for us. So how far are we willing to go? How much change? How far will we go with it?” RM replies to Bang. “This is critical for us. Even when we’ve decided to go forward, we get scared when push comes to shove.”

Chronos, Kairos, and the Impermanence of Time

The documentary is very deliberately preoccupied with time. There are repeated shots of a ticking metronome and the literal onscreen countdown of their days in Los Angeles as title cards.  In their discussions with each other and corporate executives, you can feel the weight of their years apart pressing against the urgency of making something new.

“Maybe it’s me, but the streets, the recording studio, and even the food at my favorite restaurant all feel exactly the same. Is it just me who’s changed?” singer V reflects. “Am I the only one stuck in time? I’ll soon be seeing our fans for the first time in years, and I wonder if their feelings for us have changed.”

Onscreen, RM discusses chronos, measured clock time, versus kairos, the quality of a moment. The band’s return feels like a kairos moment structured inside a very rigid chronos. Outside of this moment captured by Nguyen, BTS exists chronologically in this time, but they also have the burden of legacy and the weight of representing an entire people.  

“That’s what I love about filmmaking … that ability to kind of control time within [a] 90 [minute]- to two-hour window,” Nguyen said, commenting on Namjoon’s observation. “So when he said that, I just was like, glowing, like, so happy, because it just showed … the synergy between what I thought the story’s framework was and what [RM’s] thought was in terms of their time in the military and their time in Los Angeles. And so by him saying that, I felt I had more of a creative license to use time as one of the tools that can frame this film more — that it becomes a bigger theme in the film.”

“BTS: The Return” Delivers

Whether you’re just curious about BTS and the hullabaloo surrounding them, you’re a sucker for behind-the-scenes glimpses into the makings of albums regardless of the artist, or you’re a die-hard BTS stan, the documentary has something for everyone.

For instance, if you just want to learn more about the band and figure out why millions of people love them so much, you get a very good, well-rounded sense of who the seven members are as people. Not only do you see them in professional mode as they are working on songs and lyrics, you get to see them goofing off with one another. 

“They’ve been on a lot of previous documentaries, and a lot of content has been made about them before, so I want to sort of break that down a bit so they can … forget the cameras [are] there, and just be as vulnerable and honest as possible,” the director said about his approach. 

Fortunately, we get plenty of poignant and vulnerable moments from the seven artists. No surprise for long-time fans, but likely a welcome one for those casually checking out BTS. 

“We drink together at night, we end up talking about a lot of things. Of course we would talk about the work we’ve done at the studio. Then it would somehow turn pointless and silly, but I love it all,” Jimin shares during a car ride. “It’s just that, of course, I’m part of BTS. I simply came to the place where I belong, and to perform on stage together. That’s what we are meant to do.” 

One of my personal favorite moments happens when Jin is leaving for Korea before the others. Sprawled on top of Jung Kook, Jin asks, “Ever get that feeling? ‘You’re home, but it doesn’t feel like home?’ It’s like I’m home, but I still miss home. You get me? Hello?”

Jung Kook replies, “Not really. How could you be homesick when you’re home?

“You’d be surprised,” Jin responds.

But, in arguably one of the funniest scenes — and fitting in terms of capturing the crux of BTS’ tension of displaying their “Koreanness” — we find j-hope absolutely vibing out to the “Arirang” sample in “Body to Body.” We see RM shrug and glance at SUGA, who is vehemently shaking his head. When j-hope slowly realizes the other two rappers are not feeling it, he asks puzzledly, “Why? Isn’t it good?”

RM tries to justify his position, saying, “It feels like I’m eating bread, pork cutlet, and kimchi, all mixed.”

Jimin interjects. “RM, wait. Why does that sound f—ing delicious?”

It’s a small moment, but it captures exactly what makes BTS so difficult to pin down and why their choices tend to work even when they shouldn’t. For Nguyen, who had a front row seat to the entire messy, exhilarating process, the finished product hit differently.

“The film really follows the process of ‘SWIM’ and ‘Body to Body.’ Just knowing the full arc of those songs, I really feel connected to them,” Nguyen shared when asked what his favorite song was off the album. “I was fortunate enough to be at the Seoul comeback special, and when they open with ‘Body to Body,’ I was just ready to dance … I was like, Oh, my God, this is amazing.”

“BTS: The Return” is now streaming on Netflix.