Almost as soon as it was released in 2021, “Squid Game” turned into Netflix’s biggest hit and a cultural phenomenon worldwide, becoming a symbol of the triumphant Korean Wave washing over the globe along with such ultra popular cultural exports as BTS or Bong Joon-ho’s “Parasite” (with which it shares many thematic similarities). Could season 2 ever meet audiences’ sky-high expectations, offer yet another wild ride through the deadly games and a renewed social critique of the excesses of late capitalism?
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The short answer is, no. Yet, even when taking into account such unrealistic and unfair expectations, the second season of “Squid Game” is still a disappointment. Instead of taking the show in a new direction and trying to offer something fresh, creator and showrunner Hwang Dong-hyuk, who also writes and directs every episode, just gives us more of the same. Rather than taking audiences to the next level of the games, he simply puts them through another batch of games which feel like a light variation on those which audiences are already familiar with. If season 1 was often compared to the likes of “Battle Royale” or “Hunger Games”, season 2 lives in the shadow of its own previous season, and it comes out as vastly inferior to it.
And yet, it started on a very promising note. As seen at the end of the season 1, Seong Gi-hun (still played very convincingly by Lee Jung-jae) decided not to leave the country and enjoy his new-found wealth but instead do all he could to stop the games. Two years later, we discover a Gi-hun who has become obsessed with what has become a personal crusade and vendetta for him. Fortified inside a derelict hotel, he spends the fortune he won last season on equipment, staff – and weapons.
Episode 1 is devoted to the frantic search for the Recruiter who, as seen in season 1, rounds up desperate individuals in the subway system and anywhere where harried salarymen and broke and despairing individuals can be found. This is a great opportunity to bring back the chillingly excellent Gong Yoo as the Recruiter and to give his character full space to act out what turns out to be his highly disturbing madness. The Russian roulette face off between him and Gi-hun is a great dramatic moment and easily the best scene of the season.
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This seemed to be paving the way to an interesting new narrative direction, with the season centering on Gi-hun’s search while still featuring lethal games of a new sort. Unfortunately, by the beginning of episode 3, our hero has rejoined the games, and from then on audiences are likely to get a strong sense of déjà-vu. The décor and sets are the same, the rules and methods are (pretty much) the same, the first game is the same, and the camera angles and overall aesthetics are the same. Like any real-life reality TV game, the show instead relies on a fresh batch of contestants to keep audiences’ interest, with new personalities, backstories and personal dynamics. Unfortunately, the new contestants are vastly less convincing and touching than their predecessors, offering as many opportunities for the show to retread old ground.
Yet, through such characters, “Squid Game” season 2 is trying hard to offer commentary on South Korean society, and some of it is intriguing. Among the newcomers is Player 120, Cho Hyun-ju (played by Park Sung-hoon), an ex-Special Forces soldier who also happens to be a transgender woman. Several contestants frequently refer to their military service (which is mandatory in South Korea), while one of the pink-suited guards, Kang No-eul, is a former North Korean soldier who has no compunction executing contestants but takes a stand against organ harvesting. Yet another character, the matriarch Geum Ja (played by Kang Ae-Shim in a role reminiscent of the elderly man from season 1) recalls the hardships she went through during the Korean War. Yet another former marine refers to his grandfather’s service during the Vietnam War (a nod to previous generations’ own struggles and sacrifices which has proved controversial in Vietnam). Is our current society similar to a war of all against all, the show seems to be asking?
But the military is also an organization based on comradeship and solidarity to help defend society against its enemies, which is the opposite of the selfish individualism encouraged and dramatized by the games. Like season 1, the new episodes offer a clear dichotomy between the two antipodes of human behavior, competition vs. cooperation, implicitly asking viewers which side they would be on if they were participants themselves. Family also reemerges, just like in season 1, as a central theme, an institution that humanizes and socializes individuals and can stand as a counterweight against individualism and egotism. The show is thus firmly grounded in South Korean society and history while still raising issues and themes that have universal resonance.
And just like in season 1, the critique of the excesses of capitalism in contemporary society (South Korean or not) manifests. The series regularly emphasizes how much the contestants are all hopelessly mired in debt, and even threatened by their creditors with organ harvesting if they don’t pay up – one of many ways the show parallels outside society with the lethal games. The latter are a microcosm standing for the whole of our dystopian society, a wild but biting satire about the inequities and sheer exploitation so many people suffer from in the real world. It does so in a fun, almost metafictional way that puts audiences in the role of the anonymous VIPs (never to be seen here) who watch and enjoy the games. We might, after all, ourselves be enjoying the spectacle of death and human misery.
But wasn’t that already the substance of season 1? Hwang Dong-hyuk first wrote that season in the wake of the 2008/2009 financial and economic crisis, and it is a sad comment in itself that his social satire feels as topical as ever (but then similar films were made as early as the 1960s with the advent of television and mass media spectacle, starting with Elio Petri’s “The Tenth Victim”). Season 2 does not go deeper into the issues or offer contemporary perspectives on them. One of the villains of the new season is Thanos (player 230), a former rapper and borderline psychopath played with over-the-top relish by Choi Seung-hyun, himself a rapper (known as T.O.P.) and former K-pop group member. Another contestant is Lee Myung-gi (player 333, played by Yim Si-wan), a former YouTuber and cryptocurrency trader who is responsible for Thanos’ and others’ personal bankruptcy. These are certainly interesting new storylines, but where do they lead?
Absolutely nowhere, and none of the characters’ journeys is brought to any satisfying conclusion, as season 2 ultimately proves to be in reality only half of one. Episode 7 ends with a cliffhanger, paving the way for season 3, to be released at some point in 2025 (a good reminder if needed that Netflix is itself a well-oiled capitalist machine). The only good news is that the next season will also be the show’s last, which might allow it to stop playing for time and relying on dreadful fillers (everything that happens outside the games from episode 3 onward) to get to the point. Whether the show will have anything new to say or to show, however, is another question.
