In 2019, a Korean film named Parasite (2019) entered the scene and blew away audiences from around the world. The film was universally praised among critics and fans alike and went on to dominate the Oscars, culminating in a win for Best Picture—the first foreign-language film to do so. To me, this popularity and hype surrounding Parasite in the United States was well deserved but still felt like an anomaly. I doubted any other foreign-language film or television show could capture the momentum Parasite did, given that American audiences notoriously hate subtitles. Squid Game has proved me wrong, as almost everyone I know is rhapsodizing about this Netflix television series. South Korea has emerged as a force to be reckoned with in the film and television industry, creating products that truly strike a chord with viewers.
It is not difficult to understand why Korean media often has such widespread appeal. Parasite and Train to Busan (2016), a beloved Korean zombie flick, feature wealth disparity at the heart of their conflict, a problem that afflicts countless nations. Such films have encouraged robust conversations about widespread poverty in engaging and exciting ways when the issue had previously been relegated to dreary Oscar-bait films for far too long.
Squid Game follows this trend of popular Korean media by exploring income inequality as well. The show is about 456 people who compete in a series of Korean children’s games, with the winner receiving an enormous cash prize to eliminate their various debts and resolve their troubles. The catch is that players who lose in each round are summarily executed or killed, and the final surviving player is the winner.
The show puts an interesting and unique spin on the Battle Royale genre, which is hard to do when previous offerings include worldwide phenomenon The Hunger Games (2012) and cult favorite The Belko Experiment (2016). Gritty, harrowing scenes of people fighting to the death under harsh lighting are replaced by vibrants colors and a style reminiscent of a Wes Anderson movie such as The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) or Moonrise Kingdom (2012). While the series features plenty of violence and gore in the same vein as The Hunger Games, it typically appears in a (disturbingly) visually pleasing manner. This is to say nothing of the ominous presence of shapes throughout the series. Simple shapes such as circles, squares, and triangles are plastered everywhere—from the costumes worn by the mysterious gamerunners to the background of different game locations. The shapes are mesmerizing and add a deceptively playful aesthetic that takes on a more serious and deadly meaning as the show progresses. A mere triangle can evoke a life or death conflict and signify the difference between having authority or being considered an inferior.
The show’s main draw, of course, is its depictions of the deadly children’s games. I was astounded by how cleverly the show transformed a scene involving the seemingly innocuous game Red Light Green Light into one of the most gory and suspenseful sequences I have ever witnessed. Viewers are unable to resist the urge of putting themselves in the shoes of a contestant, wondering whether they would or wouldn’t survive. The series also rarely shies away from displaying the bloody results of contestants who failed, thereby adding to the suspense. Out of all the games featured, I only disliked one that involved jumping across a bridge of glass panels. For the most part, these games felt survivable if you had the right amount of strength, wit, or athleticism. The glass bridge game relied completely on dumb luck, which felt inconsistent and unfair. Sure, that may be representative of how life can be, but it still feels off when the games are framed as the fair shot for a better life most contestants were never given.
One of the show’s most refreshing aspects is how much time it dedicates to developing the various contestants as characters. It is a welcome change compared to the majority of the Battle Royale genre, which rarely go beyond the main character. While it seems fairly clear who is going to win the competition, each death, especially in the later episodes, feels impactful. The amount of time spent becoming invested in all the characters makes it devastating to see them die.
The participants also feel like real people and their dire situations make their choice to risk their life for money relatable. It is in this aspect that the show succeeds over The Hunger Games, which is also a commentary on inequality. Most contestants in The Hunger Games are forced to play, but competitors in Squid Game choose to participate. People are willing to kill others and put aside their morality to escape poverty because life in that condition has become too unbearable. Furthermore, while massive inequality in The Hunger Games appears to be a distant possibility, Squid Game argues that it already plagues our society.
It is challenging to pick a favorite character in the series, but in the end, I would have to say it is a tie between Sae-byeok—a North Korean refugee desperate to make enough money to support her brother who lives in an orphanage, and Ali—a migrant worker from Pakistan who is bonafide scene stealer. It is all the more impressive knowing that Jung Ho-yeon and Anupam Tripathi, the actors who portray each character respectively, are relative newcomers to acting when they give such rich, powerful performances. I also enjoyed the character of Mi-nyeo, whose actress (Kim Joo-ryoung) gives a delightfully abrasive and kooky (edging on deranged) performance. Trying to predict what Mi-nyeo would do next became a constant source of pleasure.
Gi-han and Sang-woo, characters who arguably could be seen as the protagonists, were fun to watch but a little too predictable to be all that interesting. I appreciated scenes featuring the mysterious Front Man, who served as an antagonist, far more. His deep, garbled voice and devotion to managing the games make him a fascinating character to observe. I think scenes where the Front Man hunts for Jun-ho, a rogue police officer who has invaded the facility where the games are being held, are among the best in the series. The Front Man is such a stoic, reserved character that the contrast of seeing him become worried as he hunts for the spy enhances the experience.
As someone who guiltily binged all the episodes of Squid Game in two days, I cannot recommend the series enough. It may not be the most subtle television show regarding its themes of poverty and human nature, but it is a rollercoaster nonetheless. I grew so attached to the characters that I was moved to tears several times by their stories and brilliant performances. Finally, the gorgeous aesthetic and production value of the series is reason enough to see it. Beyond my recommendation, the avalanche of real world memes generated from Squid Game is sufficient to prove its lasting impact.
As a last note, my suggestion to any English speaker is to watch the series with Korean dialogue and English subtitles. The English dub does not do the show justice, and reading subtitles is the least we can do for such a masterpiece.
Let me know in the comments what you thought of the series! Did it live up to the hype or do you think it’s overblown? What do you think of it compared to other dystopian Battle Royale films like The Hunger Games?
Grade: A
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