The journey to get to a second season of Squid Game was, well, pretty emblematic of the series itself. First, there was the creator’s (Hwang Dong-hyuk) personal need to create the second season – despite wanting to initially tell a complete story in season one – because, despite the series becoming the most popular show to ever stream on Netflix, he made almost nothing from the show’s success. Then, there was the ill-conceived Squid Game game show, released by Netflix that saw regular folks compete in the games from the first season of the show – without the mass murder aspect (although there were lawsuits from competitors due to unsafe conditions) proving that Netflix might trumpet the success of their series condemning the horrors of late-stage capitalism, but they certainly want to keep reaping the benefits of that same system. And then there’s the whole fact that the series streams on Netflix, the original streaming system that has – in the past several years – become well-known for its penchant for canceling its series before they get a fair shake, because the bottom line is more important than pretty much anything in their algorithm.
And that brings us to season two of Squid Game, a season that, to be frank, is more or less a retread of season one but with less compelling new characters and our few returning characters simply going through many of the same motions this time around. When we last left Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae, who is asked to be much more angry and militant, and not much else, this time around), he was turning around and returning to Seoul, determined to take down the entire shadowy organization responsible for the Game. And that is precisely where our story picks up this time around. In fact, we pick up from exactly that point. I suspect most folks really only remember Gi-hun’s part of the story – that he was the sole survivor in a sadistic Game wherein the participants, spurred along by a desperate need for money, were killed off playing children’s games for the enjoyment of faceless VIPs who bet on the outcome.
But, if you’re like me, you likely forgot the first season’s B-plot, which saw undercover cop Hwang Jun-ho (Wi Ha-joon) sneak into the Game as a guard to try and find his missing brother, Hwang In-ho (Lee Byung-hun), who, as it turns out, is the Front Man of the operation and the Game’s overseer. When we last left Jun-ho, he had discovered his brother’s role in the Game moments before his brother shot him and sent him careening over a cliff into the ocean. Well, turns out he survived that fall and is still trying to figure out how to get back to the island where the Game is held to stop things – unfortunately, no one believes him that such a place exists. If you know anything about television, you know that circumstances will lead to him finding Gi-hun, with the pair teaming up to try and stop the Game once and for all. And, if you saw the second season’s trailer (and, really, if you’ve seen any sort of media dealing with battles to the death – such as Hunger Games) you know that a previous contestant always ends up back in the Game for some reason. Which is precisely what happens here.
But, unlike in the excellent second Hunger Games story (Catching Fire), bringing Gi-hun back into the Game – and really, bringing his story back into the series at all – doesn’t turn out to be a step up from the previous incarnation of the series. For one, his fellow contestants this time around lack the depth and complexity of those in season one. A large part of this is due to the series having three interlocking stories it is telling this time around – the Game itself, Jun-Ho’s attempt to find the Game location (and extricate Gi-hun), and the story of a new guard, Kang No-eul (Park Gyu-young), a North Korean defector who seems both fine with her role killing losing players but also morally conflicted when it comes to allowing some to linger on the verge of death rather than die cleanly*. So, split into three separate storylines, the series sputters when the action is taken away from the players themselves – because their story, and Gi-hun’s drive for revenge, is the more compelling of the three by far.
*Remember the subplot in season one where not-quite-dead contestants had their organs harvested before they were killed? Yeah, I had forgotten that was a thing. But it’s once again a minor subplot this season, although very little is done with it overall.
Gi-hun’s drive for revenge is an interesting arc, largely because as the season plays out, we start to see that his single-minded goal is becoming less and less about saving innocent lives and more and more about getting revenge for the friends he lost in his first time in the Game. He’s less interested in learning about his current competitors and much more interested in trying to get them to listen to him and stop playing (a new quirk in the Game’s rules allow the players to vote to walk away after every game they play – which, in turn, serves to further divide the group and ratchet up tensions between those out for money and those who would much rather walk away a little richer and with their lives), and when that doesn’t seem to work, he’s perfectly content to plan a way to steal guns and charge on the control tower, risking the lives of those he barely knows in the process.
It’s hard to really critique the series because when it comes to the message it’s presenting, it’s incredibly clear and makes its point. Where season one was exposing how the VIPs see those below them as pawns, disposable and only useful in so far as they can make them money, season two is exploring how those without money are so indoctrinated into the “glories of capitalism” that they are convinced all they need to become who they were born to be – and to get the respect they deserve – is to get that one big score. It’s no surprise that several of the new characters this time around fell for a crypto scheme that lost them millions (and that the pusher of that scheme is also broke and in the Game). After all, capitalism succeeds because the lower classes’ drive for upward mobility funds the largess of those at the top. If they cannot believe that they, too, can sit on a throne and have all that those they idolize do, the house of cards comes crashing down. And that’s what season two of Squid Game is pushing.
Having the votes shows that aspect of capitalism in bright lights. Each time a vote to end the game fails, we see at least one character apologize for voting to continue by saying they just need a little more money in the communal pot and then they can stop. What goes unsaid (at least at first) is that their fellow contestants’ lives must end in order for that needed money to drop into the large piggy bank that hovers in their bunk room. People have to die so that they can make a couple thousand more dollars to pay off debts and feel comfortable to leave. What a trade off – but, within the game, lives are currency (literally, this show was never subtle, and it certainly isn’t this time around), and they’re willing to sacrifice other people for the chance to make some more money for themselves (which, applied on a macro level, is capitalism in a nutshell). Where in season one the focus was on the sacrifices the VIPs were easily willing to make to get some extra pocket money from their bets this time around its the competitors who are making those sacrifices (and, essentially, betting on themselves as well) to garner some extra money.
The disappointing part of this season of Squid Game is that while the moralistic side of the story remains a lesson we might want to take a closer look at (especially in light of the geopolitical landscape in the 2.5 years since season one premiered), the execution of the series this time around doesn’t feel as focused and compelling. The multiple points of view muddy the narrative and pull focus from the Game – which is where the main action and emotional center of the piece lies. And, clocking in at only seven episodes, the season is much more like part one of a two-part final chapter (it ends mid-Game, and a final, third season is expected sometime in 2025), so the story never really kicks into high gear. The new characters lack the depth of those in season one, so it’s hard to muster up any real emotional reaction when they die (a vast departure from the rich tapestry of characters crafted for season one, whose deaths felt like a punch in the gut). And the story doesn’t feel as layered and emotionally compelling as it did the first time around. It also doesn’t help that the streaming service promoting the series is one of the major companies trafficking in the type of capitalistic money grabs held up by the series as part of the systemic problem at the heart of the tale.
If you loved season one of Squid Game, there’s enough here to hold your interest this time around, although I suspect you’ll also feel a bit less emotionally invested in the story. This was a season of television that we really didn’t need and save for the financial needs of the creatives behind it, we likely wouldn’t have it. The first season of the series was shocking and compelling in all the best ways television can be. This time around, it’s a bit more stale and too crowded to really get its point across in the way it wants to.
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