Season two of ‘Squid Games’ seems more intent on bridging to future than exploring present

Despite establishing an interesting microcosm for cruel exploitation and the flaws of greed, one fueled by exaggerating the harsh nature of humanity, season two of Squid Game has triggered a multitude of mixed opinions. As one of Netflix’s most popular shows, generating bountiful viewership and millions of dollars, this latest incarnation has  a lot to live up to. Following one of the world’s most popular and critically acclaimed series, ebbing and flowing around eight-star-reviews on IMDb, this seven-episode sequel sets up a masterful pathway to conclude this K-drama. 

Through a barrage of grotesque imagery and inordinate gore, the South Korean series explores a relatively uncharted and risky genre. A clear-cut allegory, Squid Games expands on the lengths poverty-stricken civilians go to defray their debts, utilizing nihilism, communism, and the hierarchies of power for added emphasis. The first season especially illuminated these social issues, particularly when protagonist Seong Gi-Hun (Lee Jung-jae, Hunt) grappled with the weight of being the sole winner of $45.6 billion won, or roughly $31 million USD, despite ultimately accomplishing nothing. Vividly exposing depression, guilt, and regret, director Hwang Dong-hyuk unveiled a tapestry of the corruption of ambition, culminating with a massive revenue success reaching over $900 million. 

Returning after a three-year hiatus that left a dire cliffhanger of Gi-Hun aching to end the perpetuated circle of poverty, this season very much establishes a “bridge” for what is yet to come. Gi-Hun experiences the three-year gap period simultaneously, full of paranoia and dread, all while hunting down the nameless “Salesman” recruiting poor civilians willing to be demoralized for profit. With a new sense of revenge, hoping that no one else will experience the horrors he dealt with, Gi-Hun returns to the games with a changed mindset.

To strengthen the bonds between seasons, Jung-Bae (Lee Seo-hwan) also returns, originally introduced in the pilot episode as Gi-Hun’s gambling buddy. Along with his reintroduction, “The Frontman’s” background and intentions are expanded more thoroughly this time around, as discovering his purpose in perpetuating the games seems to be where the series looks to end. The most jarring aspect of this season was the complete shift of characters. A mother-son (strained) duo, jilting romances, an increase of female representation, and many morally troubled individuals combine to bring a greater sense of depth to the second season. 

Despite initially mirroring the first game’s trajectory, Gi-Hun’s presence offset the hierarchy and provoked increased security and surveillance for the chance of a rebellion. His once energetic, positive, and deterministic energy beautifully juxtaposes his distorted cynicism and admonishment of the stubbornness of those newly enrolled in the games. 

Matching scenery invokes a sense of nostalgia for the audience as they return to the world that sparked popularity over the internet three years ago. Throughout the new season, the unseen antics of a new array of characters shines but still feels lackluster in building the concluding sensation. Instead, the mission seems to be constructing their viewership for the potential of even more seasons to come. 

Grade: B

Some of the best elements of the first season of Squid Game return, as new characters grapple with the desire to end the games, this time with Gi-Hun as their guiding light. Season two  doesn’t seal the 3-year hiatus of the popular allegory Squid Game, but rather builds on the consequences of the cruel games. 

by Adele Faust

Published on February 24 2024

Oshkosh West Index Volume 121 Issue V