Director Hwang Dong-hyuk brought audiences back to the bloody, colorful and geometric shape-filled world of “Squid Game” with a second installment of Netflix’s most popular non-English show of all time. Season two’s seven episodes were released Dec. 26, picking up right where the first season ended.
As a second installment, this season primarily sets up the next chapter, chronicling Seong Gi-hun’s (Lee Jung-jae) retaliation against the Frontman and his eventual return to the games. Where the story began, he plans to bring it to an end. Three years after the finale of the first season, can this new installment hold a candle to the plot, emotional weight and messaging of its predecessor?
What this season excels at is exploring new territory with the games and the personalities of its new characters. Hwang acknowledges that audiences want to see something new — not an exact repeat of the commercially successful first season. The new characters and their unique traits create dynamics that go beyond what viewers saw in the first season.
Hwang also takes the opportunity to explore intriguing questions: What if influencers or public figures joined the game? Pregnant women? Transgender women? Would their identities influence how they are treated by other contestants? What if, for a second time, a double agent joined in on the fun and experienced firsthand what it’s like to become a horse to be bet on?
The show also offers a look into the games from the eyes of the guards, showing the behind-the-scenes oppressive dynamics of the trigger-happy pink-suited guards. Even the Salesman (Gong Yoo) gets a bit more screen time, revealing his derangement runs deeper than it initially seemed.
It is interesting to see how the integrity of Seong’s character is handled, taking into account how the first games have changed him. At heart, he remains an idealist. His superpower is his childlike ability to believe in humanity; that people should choose goodness over corruption, greed and self-interest. However, after seeing the deaths of hundreds — many of whom were his close friends — in the first games, Seong underwent an extreme change in demeanor. He evolved from a silly, witless man into someone stoic and jaded, hardened by the deaths he witnessed and burdened by the weight of blood money at his disposal.
This transformation is underscored by a comparison of the scene in both seasons where he takes his identification photo — in the first, he flashes a toothy grin; in the second, he dons his new signature vengeful thousand-yard stare.
Despite these changes, Seong’s core values, which won him the first games, continue to act as his driving force — now as a force for revenge against the game runners and to end the games for good.
While second installments almost always feel somewhat lackluster, unable to match the novelty of the first, this season proves successful. Hwang was able to expand the show into new territory while keeping audiences at the edge of their seats with great plot twists. Still, the first season did feel better paced, with more compelling, fleshed-out characters.
While this season attempted to probe into the more psychological aspects of the game and the relationships that were formed from playing the game, it doesn’t quite match the emotional impact of the first season.
This season also saw a significant increase in comic relief, perhaps to balance the hardened personality of the protagonist. At times, Seong’s character reached a point of stagnancy, with viewers being able to almost predict the timing of his equal parts idealistic and doom-laden inspirational speeches. His brooding archetype is more common in thriller television than the underdog-goofball personality he embodied in the first season, which was unique for a lead. Nevertheless, Lee’s ability to transform into different roles is impressive. Seong’s character does see some development throughout the season, realizing that not everyone can be saved and that sacrifices must be made for the greater good.
Despite these critiques, the plot twists were just as compelling, and the callbacks to the prior season were effective. It is important to note that this season is meant to act as a transition into the next and does not aim to surpass the first. Hopefully, in the third season — confirmed for this year — the themes established in the first will continue to be developed.
“Squid Game” grapples with themes of greed, capitalism and the value of human life. It asks: How far would regular, albeit desperate, people go for an exorbitant sum of money? Is there ever a good enough reason to sacrifice others? The show also critiques the elite, who derive joy from extreme human sport, showcasing how deeply dehumanization can run when emboldened by the anonymity of a mask.
In turn, these questions prompt viewers to look within themselves and consider their own roles in society. Are we in a similar position to the pink guards or the Salesman — dogs who mindlessly follow orders, ignoring any sense of individual moral compass? At the bottom, are we like the players, victims of capitalism, jumping through hoops, performing and killing to chase dreams of unattainable riches?
It is easy to assume we would be like Seong, championing goodness and morality over greed, perhaps even becoming revolutionaries who aim to upend the system. But how different are we, really, from the golden-masked VIPs, watching violent games for sport from the comfort of front-row seats?
Tessa Kang is an Arts & Entertainment Intern for the fall 2024 quarter. She can be reached at tokang@uci.edu.
Edited by Lillian Dunn and Jaheem Conley
