Is it possible to suffer from post-traumatic stress due to a television series? Squid Game isn’t listed as the cause in any medical journal, but binge-watching the second season of Netflix’s global hit made me feel like the tormented figure ofI scream by Edvard Munch.
There first season of the series was launched in 2021, in the midst of a pandemic, during which millions of people around the world died from the Covid. Its apocalyptic atmosphere seemed perfectly in tune with that death-filled moment, even if the series’ overwhelming action distracted us from what was happening in our real world. His fierce criticism of capitalism it was so cleverly disguised as a thriller that Netflix managed to transform Squid Game into a goose that lays golden eggs, making from its concept a video game, a live interactive game (yes, I tried it), a reality show (which, ironically, provoked some complaints about the exploitation of the workers) and a wide range of merchandise, including green jumpsuits and pink uniforms, in case you fancy trying your hand at cosplay.
This time Squid Game doubles down on both its brutal ruthlessness and its critique of capitalism. One of the episodes is even titled Bread and lotteryin case the concept of “panem et circenses” wasn’t already clear in your mind. The series is steeped in themes such as economic inequality and the “winner takes all” mentalitywhere broken, debt-ridden people humiliate themselves to entertain bored billionaires. What could be more current?
Once again, our guide in this wasteland is Gi-hun (Lee Jung Jae), the survivor from last season. His was a Pyrrhic victory that changed him profoundly. He is no longer the impulsive player willing to entrust his fate to chance: Gi-hun is now a traumatized man. He sees his winning money as “dirty money”to be used exclusively to track down the creators of the game and put an end to the bloodbath. This hunt reunites Gi-hun with Jun-ho (Wi Ha-jun), the cop from last season who is trying to find a way back to the island.
Both are determined to bring those responsible for the game to justice, and both actors bring a sweet humanity to their roles. Unfortunately, the first two episodes of the season are taken up with convoluted plots and quests that slow the series down considerably.
«You manipulate people who feel at the bottom of the abyss», says Gi-hun, with tears in his eyes, when he finally comes into contact with the Front Man disguised as Darth Vader (Lee Byung-hun). “Treat people like racehorses, as if they were your property.” The Front Man is indignant and quotes (in an amusing reference to our distorted current politics) Matrix: «With the blue pill they would have lived in peace, but they wanted to be heroes by choosing the red pill. Do you also believe you are a hero who can change the world?”. The answer is yes, and so the season begins properly, with Gi-hun being reinstated in the game as Player 456.
This time, however, it is different, both for him and for us. If in the first season he entered the game as a naive, now our hero knows exactly what he is facing as he wakes up on a bunk bed, dressed in his green tracksuit. An awareness that throws him into despair, as his warnings fall on deaf ears: «This isn’t just a game. If you lose, you die! » he shouts, amidst laughter and rolling eyes. “He must be drunk,” a competitor comments contemptuously.
Although Squid Game is deeply rooted in South Korean culture, I couldn’t help but watch the season through the prism of contemporary Western politics, especially when those in power announce that players can vote on whether or not they want to continue after each game. “We respect your right to freedom of choice,” a voice coldly announces from above. Gi-hun is convinced that the majority will choose to leave after witnessing the first bloodbath, but when they see the paltry sum of the current prize pool (equivalent to around 16 thousand dollars each), they go crazy: «Shit, we’re almost dead for 24 million [won]? What bullshit!
The vote generates some of this season’s darkest and most suspenseful scenes, as players take turns choosing an X (for those who want to leave) or an O (for those who want to stay). In the wake of US electionsit is difficult not to perceive the echo of a narrow majority of votes that risks ruining the existence of the remaining players. Even more so when some of the contestants start coming up with conspiracy theories. “Did you infiltrate him to manipulate us?” an elderly man asks the guards, pointing to Gi-hun. Others are convinced that he is trying to scare them into winning the jackpot himself.
It’s like being the person in the horror movie who can see the killer, or the one who glimpses the looming authoritarianism but can’t convince other voters to believe the threat is real. The two sides become increasingly polarized, seeing each other as enemies, while the Front Man infiltrates the game and manipulates everyone.
The new group of contestants is very similar to the previous one: people with little to lose who can’t imagine anything worse than their current lives. Some characters are surprisingly over the top, like the self-styled shaman Seon-nyeo (Chae Kook-hee), who goes around throwing curses and muttering cryptic things like: “The gods have already decided.” But there are some fun modern touches, like the K-pop star Yim Si-wan as Myung-gi, a crypto influencer who has bankrupted himself and many of his followers. One of these unfortunate former followers is present in the game: Thanos, a purple-haired rapper with an explosive temper (played by another K-pop star, Choi Seung Hyunalias TOP), determined to destroy his enemy in the cryptocurrency world by any means possible.
Another pivotal character is Hyun-ju, a former Special Forces soldier who was discharged when she came out as a trans woman. Although she is played, problematically, by a male actor (Park Sung-hoon), Hyun-ju is also one of the few participants who can truly connect with other players. When Gi-hun, tired of everything, finally tries to rally the others to fight back, she is one of the few who truly understands the mission.
Hyun-ju experiences one of the most devastating moments of this season, during a game called «Musical Roundabout». Players stand on a rotating platform, listening to cheerful children’s songs, until they are ordered to retreat to certain rooms. When the young woman Hyun-ju has taken under her wing stays behind, she furiously tries to save her. Instead, he ends up looking her in the eyes as the girl is shot and killed. After the lifeless body is thrown into a coffin that looks like a gift box, the contestants emerge from their rooms and look around like survivors of a holocaust. Then they are forced to do it all over again. As if the symbolism wasn’t explicit enough, we see workers carrying coffins into a crematorium.
When asked if the second season of Squid Game would have maintained the same thematic concerns as the original, the Creator Hwang Dong-hyuk said a Vanity Fair: «The question I want to ask is: “Is true solidarity between human beings possible?”». This question develops on multiple levels: among the competitors, among the various gangsters and eccentric characters who help Jun-ho search for the mysterious island and even among the soldiers in pink overalls. But there are devastating betrayals (or should I call them shocking twists?) in store for all of them, leaving the question still unanswered for season three.
Indeed, many questions remain open, leaving us viewers frustrated. For example, a subplot about organ harvesting from the previous season continues, but with very few new insights or major narrative impacts. It makes sense that the game’s profiteers would want to monetize unneeded body parts, but the series offers no further details on who the buyers are or which factions within the game’s management Game are at war. The second season tells more about the soldiers, with the explanation however that they could be as desperate as the players, as the story of a young soldier suggests. But despite the Front Man appears often this season, his plans or motivations remain undefined.
It’s hard to love a series so claustrophobically steeped in trauma. Even star Lee Jung-Jae recently said of his return to the role of Gi-hun that “it was almost like being sucked back into hell.” This season of Squid Game it doesn’t really get us anywhere, and maybe that’s the point.
Source: Vanity Fair
I’m Susan Karen, a professional writer and editor at World Stock Market. I specialize in Entertainment news, writing stories that keep readers informed on all the latest developments in the industry. With over five years of experience in creating engaging content and copywriting for various media outlets, I have grown to become an invaluable asset to any team.
