There is a formula to “the K-pop documentary” that anyone with a lightstick and a photocard in their phone case knows well: Drone footage of concerts and long, fast pans of screaming fans intercut with idols against a white cyclorama, introducing themselves and their position in one to two easy soundbites.
And BTS is far and away the most documented group in K-pop. They have three tour documentaries, four seasons of their travel show, and their own variety show, not to mention their hundreds of hours of YouTube content and behind-the-scenes footage from projects and public appearances.
So where does that put Bao Nguyen, the documentarian and filmmaker Hybe brought on to document BTS’s return to performing after a four-year hiatus? His previous work includes The Greatest Night in Pop, about the night “We Are the World” was recorded, and the ESPN 30 for 30 documentary, Be Water, about Bruce Lee. But unlike those paeans to pop-culture history, BTS: The Return, which debuted on Netflix on Friday, captures a white-hot flash in time.
Last fall, their mandatory military service complete, BTS got to work in Los Angeles creating their first album in a new and unprecedented chapter of a story already pretty unprecedented—and Nguyen was on the ground with them from the start.
I spoke to Nguyen on the morning The Return was released, and after indulging me in a 10-minute game of “BTS as members of USA for Africa” (RM is Quincy Jones, J-Hope is Cyndi Lauper, Suga is Bob Dylan, V is Dianna Ross, Jungkook is Michael Jackson, Jimin is Stevie Wonder, Jin is a Willie Nelson/Kenny Rogers hybrid), we talked about the meta undertaking of documenting the band’s creative process.
Vogue: When did you first get involved in the project?
Bao Nguyen: I went to see one of the SoFi shows in 2022, and it was my first BTS concert. I had tried to go see them at the Rose Bowl, but the pandemic happened. So I went to see them, and it was very emotional. I go to a lot of concerts, and it was definitely the most immersive and loudest concert I had ever been to, in the best way possible. BTS has these long dialogues with their Army, and it was really beautiful to see the connection that they can build in such a big stadium. Just witnessing that connection, that relationship, reminded me a bit of The Odyssey. BTS, the members, are almost like Odysseus about to go off into the military, while Penelope is the Army, longing for that return in many ways.
I shared this idea with the label, and they thought about it a bit, but it was tough because military service is very significant in Korea. So a few years later, Hybe reached out to me to ask if I would be interested in documenting it. And I really jumped at the opportunity. It was such a privilege to tell the story at this time.
BTS is a well-documented group, between their own social media use and the various documentary series produced by Hybe. What did you offer as an outside filmmaker that’s different from what they’ve shared with us themselves?
I want to pay homage and respect to all the filmmakers and storytellers who are part of this lineage. That’s why I felt so privileged to be allowed to enter this world, ’cause it’s a very sort of tight-knit world. But I think that was something that the group was willing to surrender, in a way, and I use “surrender” in a positive way, in the sense that they wanted to try something different with this album. That’s why they did it in LA, and they opened up to new collaborators that they hadn’t worked with before, including myself. And I had to earn their trust by telling them what my intention was and why this moment was so important.
A filmmaker I really, really respect told me in the past that sometimes it takes someone from the outside to see the beauty that maybe someone who’s so connected might take for granted. And so I always take that to heart when I’m coming into a space where I might not belong in the beginning. But I think over time, when you build trust in relationships with your participants, they open up as well.
The documentary starts in media res, with Jin landing in LA. Was that when you started the filmmaking?
I knew that the story would have to begin there because that’s when “the return” is complete—BTS is not five out of seven members or three out of seven. So I knew the real, main part of the production is when Jin arrives. But how do we capture it a bit before? So that’s when I had this idea to give the members their own camcorders. As you mentioned, they constantly document themselves, but they’re usually using their phones, and for me, that’s a very specific type of visual language. I wanted a bit more texture. I wanted it to feel like it was your mom or your uncle picking up an old camcorder and shooting your vacation or something. So I gave them each a camera, and some members shot more than others. There was a bit of a learning curve with that technology, but they started to kind of grow into it. And that’s some of my favorite footage in the film.
In your work, you’ve often told stories from the past, whereas The Return is so set in the present moment. What happens, as a filmmaker, when you don’t have hindsight as a storytelling tool?
You know, a lot of directors have god complexes where they want to control everything, and I think that’s why I’ve leaned into stories from the past. It gives me that control to sculpt the story that’s already happened and make it into a Bao Nguyen film. And so with this one, it was a bit of a leap of faith. I didn’t know what to expect. I could prepare myself in a way and research, and watch everything that has been done about them, but going there and being in their lived space, their creative space, is something that I don’t think anyone can prepare for.
That being said, I knew that the scope of the film was about their return, about them making Arirang [BTS’s 10th studio album] and the trials and tribulations of that. And so that constraint actually made me more creative. I was, like, pleasantly surprised when you get these moments of discovery.
In the past, a lot of their documentaries have used talking heads. You get the sense that they’re shooting late in the process, with big, reflective, looking-back moments. And I wanted this film to be very present-moment. Like, if I’m gonna do a film where we’re just thrown into a scenario and a story, then I want that same immediacy in the filmmaking as well. So what I learned over time is, you know, a car ride is very cinematic. There’s a clear beginning, middle, and end of a car ride. And it’s also very solitary, especially in Los Angeles. It is the time where you can reflect and really sit with your own thoughts.
I mentioned The Odyssey as somewhat of a framework, and thinking of BTS as sort of modern-day mythical figures in some ways. Well, I was just trying to capture them thinking and looking out the window, but then Namjoon just started talking about Chronos and Kairos. That was a moment where I’m capturing something that I could have never imagined I was going to capture, and that’s the beauty of discovery when you’re making something as it happens.
The story of Arirang is about preserving human history through music, and in making this film you are doing essentially the same thing. What does that balance between creating an entertaining documentary and preserving history feel like?
I never thought about it as preserving history because, when you’re creating, at the end of the day, you’re trying to make the best film possible. And then, once it’s sort of out of your hands, you have no control. One of my favorite poets, Ocean Vuong, has this idea that, as artists, as writers, we’re building a raft. When that raft is complete, we kind of set it off down the river, and we have no control over it. So to think of the film as a historical record, it totally makes sense.
I mean, in some interviews people have asked, “Where will this film stand in 10 years?” And I hope that the group is able to watch it with some levity and some reflection, the same way that they did in the screening room scene of the film. It was really beautiful to see the scope of their career and them watching it together. It was very meaningful.
One of the central conflicts captured in the doc is: does BTS make music for their existing fan base, for Koreans, or for global fans? You also had to make that decision, right? Is this film for Army? Is this for the general public? How much of that was intuitive?
I try to ground myself in the concept of, “Is this a film that I’m gonna want to watch?” That helps take away a lot of those expectations of trying to satisfy all audiences. The only audience that I can truly know is myself. So if I can make a film that I want to watch, then that’s a good baseline.
But of course, we want a film that pays respect to Army, the same way the band has doubts or anxieties about returning to the fans and being accepted in the same way. I think the question is: how do you transform what can feel like a burden and responsibility into a privilege? I feel very privileged to tell this story. So having it in the back of your mind, but not letting it cloud what your intention with the film is—that is important to me.
Half of the film takes place in LA and the other half in Seoul. Watching it, it feels like in LA they are musicians, but in Seoul they are public figures. Did you notice that shift in real time?
Totally. There’s no way we could have taken them to a beach in Korea without a lot of attention. There’s a sense of freedom to the footage in LA… lots of beautiful blue skies. Even in the recording space, there’s a beautiful, lush jungle around them. There are a lot of exterior scenes in Los Angeles. And then once you get to Seoul, it’s mostly environments that Army is very used to seeing them in: the Hybe offices, the studios, rehearsal spaces, and then their homes and in their cars. But in their cars, they’re not rolling down the tinted windows. I wanted that contrast to be subtle.
As a V bias, I was very happy to see him have dinner with Wooga Squad. Did you notice a difference between RM and Namjoon, J-Hope and Hoseok, the humans versus the stage names?
We wanted to build a baseline of how different their lives are when they’re in Seoul, so we asked them what they’d do on their day off. And V said, “Well, I’m just gonna go have dinner with my friends.” And then all his friends are some of the top celebrities in Korea. Then Jimin is like, “I’m just gonna order food and play video games at home.”
And so you see these clear characteristics without having to necessarily underline it. You see all of them in their personal lives and these subtle things that they do socially. You can tell that they’re very different people as individuals, but then when they’re together, there’s something special that creates BTS.
Let’s finish off with a lightning round. Favorite song off of Arirang?
“Body to Body.”
Favorite song not on Arirang?
“Spring Day.”
Do you have a bias or are you OT7?
OT7.
But maybe you have a little bit of a bias?
OT7.
Good, stay out of trouble. Do you have a BT21 bias?
Hmm. Not particularly.
Do you have a favorite album?
I mean, I lived the life of Arirang so it’s always going to have a special place in my heart. I feel like it’s my baby, in a way.
Favorite music video?
God, if I say “Spring Day” again it’s not going to feel good.
Yeah, but that’s the thing with “Spring Day”—it’s the best.
You know, I’ll give you a little tease, because I’ve seen the “Hooligan” music video and it’s great.
God, I love that song. Okay—you get a new phone and the only numbers in it are the seven BTS members. Who do you call when you’re having a medical emergency?
RM.
Who do you call to plan your bachelor party?
J-Hope.
Who do you commission to perform your own personal theme song?
Jimin.
This interview has been edited for length and claritys.