“There’s a very fine line between competitiveness and sisterhood.”

Released in August, the Netflix docuseries Pop Star Academy: KATSEYE documents the full journey, from selection and training to debut, of the pop-star hopefuls who appeared on The Debut: Dream Academy, the reality show that ultimately led to KATSEYE, the girl group formed through a collaboration between HYBE AMERICA and Geffen Records (HXG). The way one of those trainees describes the balance “between competitiveness and sisterhood” early on in the first episode perfectly encapsulates their chaotic experience of doing two years of K-pop-style training under HXG. Amid all the uncertainty about who will make the final cut, trainees have to make themselves, and their personal growth, seen, but at the same time have to help others shine brighter for the sake of the group—and in the process, build and strengthen incredible bonds between one another.

Iliya from Belarus, Sophia from the Philippines, Samara from Brazil, Adéla from Slovakia—unlike in the past, when the particular circumstances and goals behind a group meant K-pop trainees were selected mainly from Korea and Asia, HXG truly went around the world to recruit its trainees. With participants across a whole spectrum of cultures and languages, complications in how the style of training is perceived and the interactions between the girls are naturally somewhat complex. Some excel at singing, while others have been dancing since they were just kids. Still others never formally learned any of those skills but have a knack for making themselves appealing to TikTok viewers. For some, it’s a chance to go from being a fan of the genre to becoming an artist—one that has their family’s success on the line and even let them proudly represent their countries and cultures.

But regardless of everything else, they all have the same goal: to pass through the rigors of the K-pop training system and debut as part of a new global girl group. Missy Paramo, senior program manager for training and development (T&D) under HXG, explains in the documentary that the training is, simply put, “It’s like a sports training camp. There’s a rigorous schedule so they can improve their skills quickly.” The five criteria that trainees in the docuseries are graded on in their monthly evaluations—vocals, dance, visual performance, star potential, and attitude—are prerequisites for K-pop and its performers. It’s nearly impossible to find someone who already excels in every one of these right from the moment they audition, so each trainee brings their unique set of talents to the table and spends the training period improving themselves. Daniela, who’s had ballroom dancing lessons since age three, is already an excellent dancer by the time she comes in, but she struggles at first to perfect a one-minute routine or use her facial expressions to their fullest while dancing. But then, during the very last evaluation, HXG executive creator Son Sung Deuk compliments Daniela on how much she’s improved when it comes to showing off those expressions. Thanks to the missions she tackles during Dream Academy, she goes on to become proficient at singing and dancing simultaneously. When it comes to K-pop, stars are born, and then they are molded. And that’s why the series’ title makes it clear that this is an academy.

Towards the end of episode three, trainee Naisha is asked to leave for violating the program’s restrictions around social media use. In another scene, Lexie considers getting surgery to deal with a leg injury. Scenes of trainees reading over the social media rules and breaking things in the stress room are juxtaposed against new trainees being introduced. The effect is to show the chaotic nature of the environment in which they find themselves. Physical fatigue and uncertainty are all around, yet their performances demand perfection. “You’re getting a lot of critiques all the time. It’s definitely anxiety-inducing,” Megan says in the show. “Because, you know, you just wanna be perfect sometimes.” There’s no second chances onstage—one mistake, and the promise from all that effort can come crashing down. Continuous feedback may be the ideal approach, but it’s still harsh enough for trainees that “I’m pretty sure you have a dartboard with my face and you’re throwing darts probably at night,” dance instructor Nikky Paramo jokes with them. “It’s hard to say who you’re in the most competition with,” Brooklyn says in one scene. “You never know when somebody’s just going to pop up out of nowhere and all of a sudden level up.” It’s a sentiment that likely reflects what all the trainees are really feeling—that, even with no guarantee of a debut in their future, they have to keep pushing themselves to get as close as possible. They have to endure a lot for a shot at that opportunity, but if one of them is judged to be unable to keep up with their training as scheduled, then they likely face elimination. It might be the right decision for everyone involved considering the time and energy required to keep up with the opportunity, but the sense of regret over all that time that was invested, and how sad it is to say goodbye, is all very real. And when the other trainees constantly have to witness situations like these unfold, their camaraderie and sense of purpose inevitably waver. There’s yet another layer added to the already heavy emotional pressure when the remaining trainees are finally revealed to the world as contestants on the reality show Dream Academy. The viewers find reasons to be intensely supportive in the smallest things, but they can also post scathing, unjustified criticism. Each trainee and their new friends are sized up and ranked by viewers in ways they’re not used to. Even if a friend and long-standing ally gets kicked off the show and their room is suddenly all emptied out, the next rehearsal must go on. Injury is an ever-present risk, meaning practice can change at any minute to accommodate for whoever’s unable to join in the performance. When you’re not just responsible for your own actions but for everyone you’re going to share the stage with, high pressure comes with the territory. The docuseries is eight episodes of never-ending practice, practice, practice.

While many K-pop audition shows place the spotlight on the competitive nature of the performances and then regulates all the preparation that goes into them to behind-the-scenes tidbits or plot devices, Pop Star Academy centers on the team-building between contestants, what goes on behind the curtain, and what everyone goes through when someone’s knocked out of the running. Instead of focusing on the provocative anxiety that arises, the docuseries instead chooses to look at the determination and proactive mentality of the trainees as they strive to keep moving forward. “The reason why we’re here is because we’re like puzzle pieces—it just depends, if we all fit together, which is a group,” Sophia tells the others after fellow trainee Abby has to leave the show after the evaluation at the end of the first month. “So they can eliminate anytime. They could suddenly be like, ‘Actually, this piece doesn’t fit.’ And then they’re like, ‘It doesn’t mean the piece sucks.’” Unexpected situations crop up all the time, and the final outcome doesn’t always align neatly with the amount of effort put in—and, no question, certain aspects of the entertainment complex exacerbate this reality. But, as Sophia’s words indicate, such situations are in no way a sign of a personal failure. Some things are out of a performer’s control, like psychological burden, physical injury, going through a slump, and the ceaseless tide of public support and criticism. Troubles like those will always be there. The documentary places emphasis on what the judges and coaches, as mentors, need to say in these situations, and focuses on how the trainees accept and grow from what they hear, and helps to set the tone for what the viewer is expected to get out of the girls’ experience. The approach is on full display when Lexie voluntarily steps down from Dream Academy, leaving the others emotionally shaken but having to press on with their training all the same: “We’re not ignoring what just happened, we’re just trying to handle business because that is what we have to do,” vocal coach Gabe says. “And it is not out of insensitivity, but it is out of necessity that we continue to go hard. We’re moving forward, we're not moving on.”

“I’m one of the newest members in the program, and they have had this, like, full year of training under these amazing teachers,” Lara says at one point. “But I feel like I thrive in a competitive environment, and I think I can do it.” The future KATSEYE member hits the ground running, full of spirit and unwaveringly confident. It’s immediately clear to her trainers that she excels at singing, but there were doubts at first over whether she’d be able to get by smoothly as a member of a group. That all changes, however, when she explains, “Now my dream is to become part of a girl group.” Even with the fog of uncertainty surrounding the process, and even amid all the different emotions and growth each trainee experiences for themselves, one thing remains constant: They’re there to debut as a group. If you’re going to dance as a group, everybody has to get the timing of their moves down to the millisecond to ensure nobody’s arms are getting in the way of anyone else’s—and that there’s no stepping on anyone’s toes. Similarly, everyone singing in a group has to constantly be listening to the other members’ voices to keep in perfect harmony. It’s no surprise, then, that the group of trainees has to call Manon’s occasional absence from rehearsals into question. Manon has always pursued a certain direction in her life, and she struggles to find a balance between that and how different life as a trainee is, so it’s no wonder that her viewpoint comes into conflict with the priority that the other trainees place on the value of teamwork. While personal improvement was always important for her, once she shares her intention to stick with Dream Academy, she also learns the necessity of continuous communication with the other trainees. If Manon is truly committed, the others reckon, it will show in her attitude towards practicing. Being in a girl group is about more than just aligning yourself with your label’s vision—it’s about fully engrossing yourself in the group dynamic to be there together as one. Teamwork isn’t something that’s magically born out of a drive to debut. Through the team-building process documented in the series, certain indescribable characteristics of K-pop begin to be reflected in what is ostensibly not a K-pop group.

Now practicing together as a group is about more than just the time spent together. What really makes a performance is the trust each member of the group has in the others to do their part. During Dream Academy, while practicing for the song “Pink Venom,” Adéla and the other trainees make use of a translation app on their phone to convey the specifics of the dance moves to struggling Japanese trainee Hinari. It obviously makes sense to do so when sharing feedback and for the sake of the performance, but the selfless devotion of time and the endearing kinship between them would never be possible unless the trainees felt genuine understanding and concern over their fellow hopeful from a completely different country so far from home. What they share between each other is something that transcends mere kindness—something closer to an unbreakable bond of solidarity. In the final episode, the trainees are gathered together, crying, while rehearsing the song “All The Same.” There is no doubt far more behind those tears than can be captured in a few hours of film. There’s a complex web of emotions between these girls who went through something no one else can understand—something they made it out the other end of together—as they sing the words, “Don’t you know we’re all the same.” It’s an experience and a feeling that can only be described as sisterhood—a special something shared between people who come from different backgrounds but reach for the same dream. It’s the journey of trainees from all different cultures and with all different skill sets coming together to form a community and a singular group of their own.

Pop Star Academy is the story of a group of people with what are clearly exceptional talents. Of the 120,000 applicants, around 20 were selected to compete, who were in turn narrowed down to six winners. The docuseries acknowledges the realities of the industry in places and doesn’t shy away from how systematically futile it can be, but the director’s ultimate focus is on what’s happening within these young women as they take on great personal responsibility and experience personal growth to make their dreams come true. It’s that thrill of watching these girls grow as they chase their aspirations that creates the strong narrative drive that compels viewers to cheer on all the trainees despite already knowing the outcome before going into the docuseries. Each flutter of the hopefuls’ hearts radiates out in waves that resonate with viewers at their very cores. “Indian girls who are watching me that they can do anything. Live the way you want.” Lara says in her introductory video for Dream Academy. “Be whatever you want to be.” She became a trainee to chase her dreams, and ended up finding peers and sisters in the process. Wearing a bindi in support of her own identity, Lara then uses her platform to speak to others with a similar background, assuring them that they, too, can make it. As each trainee appears in Pop Star Academy, viewers are introduced to where they come from geographically and culturally. The conversations they have where they’re staying during the training period are a mix of English, Spanish, German, Korean, and Japanese. Viewers in the Philippines get to see Sophia representing her country as she pursues her dreams, while those in Korea see how Yoonchae pushes herself against all odds to debut in a country where she doesn’t speak the language after spending her teens as a K-pop trainee. Since the docuseries came out on August 21, streams on Spotify of KATSEYE’s singles “Debut” and “Touch” have been on the rise, clearly reflecting an interest in the Netflix series. Notably, according to Spotify’s Daily Top Songs chart on September 5, roughly 15% of streams of “Touch” come from the Philippines, where Sophia’s from, showing just how much the documentary resonates with certain people. Take a training and production process rooted in relentless practice, add in a narrative of self-discovery, growth, and solidarity, and you get an intermingling of system and emotion—something that falls between industry and personal drama that captivates all who watch it unfold. And that is K-pop.

The docuseries closes with KATSEYE’s literally titled “Debut” song as Sophia shares her feelings on the end of Dream Academy: “It’s like we made it, and it’s just …,” she says, before trailing off with and exhaling. Just as she leaves her thoughts unfinished with a sigh, the story of KATSEYE is only just beginning. The girls may someday look back on such an arduous experience and see it as nothing more than a sigh of relief, but like the butterfly effect, where a single flap of a frail wing can spiral out into so many consequences, no one can possibly say what this will lead to. Perhaps, in places all around the world, KATSEYE and their documentary have already started people down the path to pursue their own dreams. As seen in the series, K-pop is essentially a system that takes the dreams of a number of trainees and focuses them into one unified group, and both the composition of its groups and the language of its lyrics are already beginning to shift—yet the emotionally driven desire to come along for and engage with the journey as K-pop stars find solidarity in looking out for each other and growing together remains the same. Within that frame, the documentary both asks and answers questions so often posed about K-pop—things that even elude the people who make it at times. As to why they put up with such hardships, no matter what the answer to this question is supposed to be, the journey itself explains why they’re compelled the way they are, and at the same time, why people are captivated by, and keep supporting, K-pop.