Four young men walk together at night, talking and smiling under dim lighting. Two wear white shirts, one wears a light denim jacket, and one sports a dark jacket—reminiscent of The Rose's effortless style.

The story behind Korean rock band The Rose’s dynamic new documentary

Director Eugene Yi and producer Diane Quon of "The Rose: Come Back to Me" discuss the band's well-deserved rise as an independent global act

"The Rose: Come Back to Me" follows the four members of The Rose, from busking in the streets to Coachella 2024.

Richard Hama

When people think about the global expansion of Korean music, the conversation often centers on a very specific type of polished, high-energy pop. Yet, beneath the surface of the mainstream "idol" machine exists a sprawling, independent ecosystem of artists who are rewriting the rules of the industry on their own terms. Perhaps the most defiant among these is the Korean rock scene, a community of artists who have traded choreographed, synchronized steps for the grit of live instruments and a raw vulnerability. 

At the forefront of this movement is The Rose, a band that has spent years proving that there is a "thorned" path to global stardom that doesn't follow the traditional K-pop playbook. Their journey is now the subject of a new, intimate documentary, The Rose: Come Back to Me. The film tracks the remarkable evolution of Sammy (Kim Woosung), Dylan (Lee Hajoon), Leo (Park Dojoon) and Jeff (Lee Taegyeom) from scraping by as indie performers in Seoul to rocking Coachella in 2024.

It explores the band’s decision to walk away from the traditional system and their subsequent partnership with Los Angeles-based Transparent Arts, the agency founded by veterans of the Far East Movement. The film candidly navigates the hardships that nearly broke them, including legal disputes, a drug scandal, and deeply personal struggles with mental health. Ultimately, it is a celebration of a group that turned their collective pain into a healing experience for fans worldwide.

Director Eugene Yi and producer Diane Quon spoke with JoySauce prior to the film’s wide theatrical release on Feb. 14 to chat about the making of the documentary, their creative decisions, and the enduring legacy of the band.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

Daniel Anderson: I’d first love to know the origin of the documentary and how you both got involved with it.
Diane Quon: I was having a conversation with Janet Yang, and she was telling me about different documentary ideas. One of them was the story of The Rose. She serves on boards with Transparent Arts, who manages the band, and they were telling her about this new group they had just signed. They explained how the band had their origins in the K-pop system but eventually dropped out. When Janet told me about the band, I thought it was such an interesting idea; it’s something I’ve always wondered about. When people are in that system, what happens when they get cut or decide to leave?

I was really interested in that potential story. Once I met with each of the members, I realized their story was so much more than just dropping out of the K-pop system to pursue music their own way. They were so willing to talk about their personal journeys and the challenges the band had faced over the years. I could see this would be a film about a journey and about a band that overcame massive obstacles to pursue their vision. The next step was finding a director. I had worked with Eugene on other projects and was a huge fan of his work on Free Chol Soo Lee. I felt it was vital to have a director who could speak with the band in both English and Korean. Thankfully, Eugene said yes.

Eugene Yi: I was thrilled when Diane reached out. Not just for the chance to work with her again, but because I’ve always been interested in Korean rock music. Growing up in L.A., K-pop was always around, but whenever I heard a Korean rock song, it made me perk up. I’d wonder why there wasn't more of that kind of music and what the stories were behind it.

Four men from The Rose, dressed in ornate, colorful suits, stand backstage in a large, dimly lit area, appearing focused. Equipment and crew members fill the background. One holds a bass guitar while another wears a cap with ear monitors.

The making of "The Rose: Come Back to Me" first started during the summer of 2023.

Richard Hama

DA: How long did the documentary take overall, and what the filming schedule was like?
DQ: We first met with [The Rose] in the summer of 2023 and started with preliminary Zooms to understand what their story could be and what their schedule looked like. We decided to start filming in late summer, just before they launched their U.S. tour. Since we weren't a big-budget production, we wanted to capture them while they were in the States rather than trying to follow them all over the world. A nice surprise during production was that they were asked to perform at Coachella. We followed them through that experience and did some final interviews in May [2025]. Overall, it was about ten months of filming, two months of prep, and many more months of editing before our Tribeca Film Festival premiere in 2025.

DA: I’m curious if you had a sense of the structure and the story you wanted to tell from the start, or did that shift during the observation and editing process?
EY: We had a general sense of the journey from our initial interviews and research, but some things remain notional until you really get into the edit. A lot of credit goes to our editor, David Simpson, who is a master of his craft. One of the early scenes he cut focused on the mental health conversation and the struggles one of the members went through. Seeing that come together gave us a feeling of joy and relief; it was the first sign that the film had a real emotional core we could build around.

Structurally, we worked on the opening until the very end. Sometimes you know the "lead" immediately, and other times you’re struggling with it until the deadline. We tried many versions, questioning how much we needed to introduce the band or explain their backstory to keep people watching. We decided that bookending the film with Coachella made the most sense. Explaining almost nothing at the start was the most powerful way in; it allows the audience to just enjoy the music and watch these guys rock out. You know their names, and really, that’s all you need. It underscores our message: the music is what matters. We wanted people to connect to the music first and use that as a doorway into their stories, leaning into the universality of the experience.

A group of men in matching outfits, reminiscent of The Rose, stands together in perfect harmony.

The documentary is both a treasure for long-time fans and an introduction for a more general audience.

Richard Hama

DA: I was curious about the choice to introduce the members by their English names. I’m guessing that was for Western audience appeal, but was that an easy decision initially? I know many fans first got to know them by their Korean names.
DQ: We knew from the start that once we made a decision, we had to be consistent. Even if they are calling each other by their Korean names on screen, we used the English names in the presentation to help audiences who don’t know the band keep track of who is who.

EY: It wasn't an easy decision. There’s always the question of which audience you are appealing to: the hardcore fandom, the broader K-pop audience, or a general audience? We hoped to appeal to the broadest audience possible, so we figured English names were the best way to do that. The "agonizing" part was deciding how many of their other names to add. At a certain point, it becomes a graphic design choice. It’s just a lot of text to have a name, a Korean name, and their role all on screen at once. It can pull you out of the story.

DQ: Also, when I first met them, they usually introduced themselves to me using their English names. Since I’m American, I got used to those names because that’s how they presented themselves to me. It was a hard choice, and hopefully, everyone understands.

EY: There are also intricacies to it—for members rooted in Korea, their Korean names are their day-to-day names. But for Woosung, "Sammy" is his day-to-day name, and "Woosung" is his performance name. We had to make decisions to streamline things so the audience wouldn't get confused.

DA: You mentioned the visual perspective, which leads me to the animated sequences. What led to the decision to use animation, and how did you select the emotional beats for that medium?
DQ: The idea was always in the back of our heads. When we started interviewing the band, they would describe memories that we simply didn't have visuals for. I remember Leo sharing a story about busking where he was so nervous he just closed his eyes and played. When he described it, I could feel the scene, but we had no way to show it. Eugene and I had used animation for memories in a previous film, AKA Mr. Chow, and it felt appropriate here. Additionally, the band loves animation; they use it in their music videos, and Woosung had mentioned early on that he’d love to see it in the film.

EY: Once we decided on animation, our main principle was balance. Each member would have one animated scene. We wanted to make sure that the members who were more comfortable speaking Korean had just as much screen time and attention as the others. We worked with an animator named Nayon Cho, who is dazzlingly talented. A neat part of the process was that the guys shared the mood board for their album DUAL with us. It had references to returning to childhood and getting back to basics. That resonated with us and the band very quickly, and it became a beautiful collaboration.

DA: How collaborative were the members throughout the process? Sometimes people agree to a documentary but hesitate when the questions get personal. Did they open up more as you spent more time together?
DQ: From our first Zoom calls, I could tell they were willing to be vulnerable. However, I’m glad we did the "master interviews" at the very end. After ten months of filming, they were incredibly comfortable with us. Having Eugene there to speak both English and Korean meant they could respond in whichever language felt most natural in the moment without struggling for a translation. Our production team of So Yun Um and Richard Hama was very small and consistent. Because they saw the same faces at every shoot, they grew to trust us and eventually forgot the cameras were even there.

DA: I’m always curious about what isn't shown. Were there any story threads you were initially set on including that ultimately had to be scrapped?
EY: Yes, but we actually got a "second bite at the apple." We created individual trailers for each of the members as part of the marketing, and we were able to use some of those discarded themes there. For example, Ha Joon spoke quite a bit about his views on relationships and love as an artist in the entertainment industry. He was very frustrated by the general attitude toward dating in the industry, and it was a message he really wanted out there. We couldn't find a place for it in the main film without it feeling like a two-minute "TED Talk" that broke the flow, so being able to release that material separately was a great way to make sure his voice was heard.

DA: Regarding the music, how did you select which songs and performances would best showcase their story?
EY: That grew organically from the structure. We used earlier songs to highlight the beginning of their career, often pairing them with archival footage to show the modest scale they started at.

DQ: It really was organic. When Dojoon talked about his mental health struggles and writing the song Seesaw, it made perfect sense to show the concert footage for that track. We were all crying watching that back. We knew for sure we had to feature Sorry, because it was the song that launched them, and Back to Me, because it was such a big hit. Everything else was chosen to fit the specific mood or time period we were covering. We generally stuck to concert footage from the actual year we were filming, so Coachella, the [Kia] Forum, and their Korean shows.

DA: Can you speak to the community spirit that got this made? I saw so many familiar names from the community involved: Janet Yang, Transparent Arts, the support from Gold House. It was cool to see everyone come together for a passion project.
DQ: That has been one of the most rewarding parts of this film. So many friends and partners put their heart and soul into this. Janet Yang was a great partner who brought the idea to us. The team at Transparent Arts are some of the kindest people in the industry; you can see they are trying to leave the industry in a better place for future generations. We also had Sanjay Sharma and Milan Chakraborty from Marginal, who come from the fiction world but really believed in this story. James Shin from HYBE Films joined as a producer. Even though he’s deep in the K-pop world, he wanted to show the nuances of why the system doesn't work for everyone without just saying "K-pop is bad." 

DA: Decades from now, when people look back at The Rose like we look at the legendary rock bands of the past, what do you think will be their defining, unshakable characteristic?
DQ: For me, it’s the authenticity. They write from the heart. Many musicians say, "I write music to heal," but they truly mean it. I remember at Tribeca, before they sang She’s In the Rain, Sammy described, “if you're hurting and you're staying in the rain, I'll stand with you in the rain.” They really think about the weight of their words. That’s why so many people relate to the songs.

EY: I think their defining trait is perseverance. To achieve success on this scale as an independent Korean act is almost unheard of. To actually be able to follow through thick and thin, through all the curveballs that have been thrown at them. Any one of those curveballs could have been the end of their career. For them to be able to get to where they got to independently, I think, is just a testament to their perseverance, and hopefully opens the door for folks to just listen to more independent music, whether it's from Korea or from elsewhere.

Published on February 14, 2026

Words by Daniel Anderson

Daniel Anderson is a disabled Chinese American adoptee based in Seattle. His freelance writing specialties include K-pop, entertainment, and food. He believes that any restaurant can be a buffet, and the key to success is to take a nap each day. Follow his adventures on Instagram @danzstan.