Squid Game

Spoilers ahead. But you probably know everything already.

It’s a proud moment for Koreans, to see a TV show from their own nation winning worldwide attention in such a short time. What’s more, the level of attention is unprecedented; according to the co-CEO of Netflix, Squid Game is on track to become the most watched show in Netflix’s history. It is simply everywhere: memes, TikTok, Talk Shows, and the topical fashion for the upcoming Halloween season.

I find that appreciating cultures from another place or time period is often a slow process. However, Squid Game stands as another exemplar of a movie's ability to transmit culture to anyone in an immediate yet resonating fashion. Even as a Korean today, I experienced an unfamiliar side of my own culture. For example, I had no idea that Squid Game was even a real children's game in Korea. Weirdly enough, my mom who was born and raised in Korea for 40 years, was as clueless as me. Understandably, I couldn't imagine such a physically aggressive game being too popular or allowed at school.

On the other hand, ddakji and Red Light, Green Light bring back many memories from my childhood in Korea. When we didn't have smartphones or gameboy, Red Light, Green Light was our go-to game at a friend's birthday party or anywhere that had a wall or large tree. Immigrating to a new country was when it became more difficult for me to convince the fun of such a simple game to culturally different people. Fortunately, I have Squid Game to thank for taking care of that, though I don't endorse its provocative methods! I think what I'm trying to say is that I'm delighted to see everyone enjoying the Korean culture and echoing them with their own interpretations. And I always appreciate the opportunity to watch Korean shows because it leads me into some nice heart-to-heart talks with my parents. When they describe their childhood and connect their stories back to the TV shows, it provides more cultural depth for what I’m watching as well as reinforces my heritage despite a physical distance from home.

Squid Game, and like many other Korean dramas today, are accessible for anyone because they don't ground themselves heavily in Korean traditions to tell a great story. Not to mention, Korean actors are some of the best at evoking powerful, raw emotions on TV. It certainly feels like Korea's approach to filmmaking is resembling Hollywood's: more progressive and less stereotypical. Though the English language has long dominated the screens around the world, the fact that the greatest show on Netflix came from a non-English speaking country bodes well for the diversity of filmmaking in the future. On a slightly more patriotic note, the fact that it also originated from a country that is technically still at war today and no more than one-tenth in size of Ontario is a national success that hits close to home for me.

Director Hwang went to incredible lengths to deliver Squid Game, so incredible that according to an interview, he has lost a total of 6 teeth by the time production wrapped up. And his devotion and work ethic truly show from his stylistic choices and cinematography. To me, the most eye-catching aspects are the costume designs and the music. The pink soldiers and their creepy music immediately reminded me of “the Tethered” from Us (2019). The contrast between the violence and the colourful playgrounds reminded me of the “aesthetic violence” from Tarantino movies.

Above all else, what I praise the most is the director’s writing decision to focus more on the characters by keeping the games simpler. In fact, Squid Game owes much of its global appeal to a fundamentally character-focused story. Fundamentally speaking, it allows viewers to better relate and identify with the characters, who are ultimately the active agents of the plot who elicit tensions, betrayals, and tears. It is a strong connection that transcends the screen and translates into much adoration for the actors, which the show’s main cast is enjoying as we speak.

The character-focused story provides a space for the unfettered exploration of raw human nature. Sometimes when illustrating a theme, the character’s reaction to the story matters more than the story itself, no matter how elaborate or original. But human nature, being existent in infinite forms, will never cease to be appealing because attempting to understand or unravel our minds is a process that is mysterious and something that almost everyone goes through in life. For these reasons, I find that Squid Game is as much of a philosophical confrontation as an entertainment that keeps all of us both watching and thinking.

Squid Game's concept of a death match has greater moral implications than other iterations such as The Hunger Games, which is why it is so much more unique. The players of the games are reminiscent of a victim like Arthur Fleck (Joker, 2019): someone who is abandoned by society and treated like animals by the rich. Now, not all of them were poor innocents, if we think about those who made some bad decisions life by gambling too much or failing at embezzlement. But just by principle, no human deserves to be treated like shooting targets just because they have no money. The players' choice to return to the game despite witnessing bloodshed and killing others to save themselves speaks to a sense of hopelessness and, I think, society's failure to protect people from toxic competition. It speaks to the brutality of an economic world and how certain structures in society puts us in situations that take away our humanity for monetary gain.

It is not a poorly disguised politically commentary on anti-this or anti-that, but more so a brusque reflection of the poor and the rich at its worst social conditions. Desperate situations are not always self-inflicted, as we know that even some random unfortunates with a good heart like Gi-Hun, Ali and Sae-Byeok fell into murderous intents in order to win. On the other hand, the rich like the VIPs and the old man have become so drunk and bored with money that fun to them is killing people. The darkest aspects of our behaviours are as unthinkable as they are plausible when desires are left unhinged. Maybe there is even an everyman logic to the characters' heinous actions because 1) their bad decisions in life are all too relatable 2) their ambitions embody the well-established role of money as "the measure of everything". Is money how we want our lives to be valued? After all, the director wrote this story when he was broke. Maybe we all love the show because it is so similar to our real world.

Squid Game is a candidly dark commentary on society that just happens to be set within a children’s game. When the hype and all the online memes pulled me into the story, I immediately was enthralled by it, then rode an emotional rollercoaster through shock, apprehension, sadness and eventually was left craving for more. However, I am also not sure if the show needs a Season 2. I think most characters that we care about received sufficient closure and went out like champs. Although we do see Gi-Hun choosing to fight the games over seeing his daughter at the end, he dons a very different "John Wick" type of persona that I'm not sure would align with the show's themes of vulnerability and desperation. Instead, I would be more interested in exploring the backstory of the Front Man.

After reading the director's thoughts on the writing process, there is no doubt that Squid Game was supposed to be a one-off story, only now being reconsidered for a Season 2 due to the unexpected success. The sequel to the critically acclaimed Train to Busan was a failure, showing us that not every successful film needs a second story. Replicating this unprecedented brilliance is an unfair request, and working with other writers would dilute the unique vision of the show. Now that Director Hwang Dong-Yuk is now recognized as a brilliant creator, I would like to see him create other stand-alone masterpieces like Bong Joon-Ho and steer away from the monotony of sequels. If Squid Game gets a rerun in the coming years, it would be a welcomed surprise. But as the show stands now, I cannot be more satisfied.