A Netflix TV Series, Created and Directed by Hwang Dong-hyuk

Without delving too deeply into current events (but let’s just say Billionaires are not very popular!), now feels like the perfect time to revisit the hit 2021 South Korean dystopian thriller Squid Game. With its second season freshly released on Netflix, the show’s exploration of wealth inequality and class struggles feels more relevant than ever. Creator and director Hwang Dong-hyuk has crafted a biting satire of South Korea’s wealth divide, but its themes resonate far beyond South Korea’s borders. In the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic – amid inflation, strained supply chains, shrinking job opportunities, and the growing dominance of the billionaire class, Squid Game remains a chilling reflection of systemic inequalities in our modern era.

Squid Game follows a long tradition of dystopian “death game” stories, drawing clear inspiration from classics like Battle Royale, The Running Man, Kaiji, As The Gods Will, and Liar Game. Unlike other “death game” franchises (coughHungerGamescough), where creators deny awareness of obvious influences, Hwang has openly credited these works. In an article published by the Korea Herald, Hwang Dong-hyuk explained where a lot of his inspiration came from:

“After debuting with My Father, I read a lot of comics and was mesmerized by survival games. In an attempt to create a Korean version, I started planning the project in 2008 and finished the scenario in 2009. However, casting actors and securing investment were extremely difficult at the time. The idea of a game winner striking it rich was unwelcomed, and the brutality and cruelty of the games raised concerns. I had to put the scenario on the shelf.”

Despite these inspirations, he managed to craft something wholly unique – an entirely Korean take on the genre as he wanted to do right from the start. Later this week, I plan to explore some of these influences in depth. If you’re looking for a similar story to get started, check out my review of Battle Royale – a foundational work in this genre.

The worldwide popularity of Squid Game owes much to its integration of real-life South Korean political dynamics. For instance, an Economic Times article highlights the 2009 Ssangyong Motor Company strikes, which inspired Seong Gi-Hun’s backstory as a survivor of a similar event. The article explains:

“The aftermath of the strike left a deep scar on South Korea’s labor history. Many workers faced severe physical injuries, legal battles, and financial ruin. The psychological toll was devastating, with around 30 deaths attributed to suicide and stress-related issues in the years following the unrest. The conflict extended beyond the factory walls, symbolizing the struggles of ordinary workers in an economy increasingly skewed towards the wealthy.”

Beyond labor struggles, the series critiques other facets of South Korean society, including celebrity culture, vapid influencers, trans-rights issues (particularly in season 2), and the integration of North Korean defectors. Its sharp and often unflinching social commentary is surprisingly free from widespread controversy, despite its pointed critique of systemic issues.

Over the past decade, South Korea has solidified its position as a leader in subversive dystopian storytelling, taking the mantle once held by Japan’s so-called “extreme Asian cinema” boom of the 2000’s. Recent films like Train to Busan (2016), Snowpiercer (2013), The Witch: Part 1. The Subversion (2018), Illang: The Wolf Brigade (2018), and the Oscar-winning Parasite (2019) demonstrate this trend. Squid Game has earned its place among these standout film entries, becoming a global phenomenon in its own right. However, its widespread embrace by the capitalist systems it critiques adds an ironic layer to its success – a discussion for another time. All I know is that seeing Squid Game sponsorship by Domino’s Pizza and Johnny Walker Whiskey just seems sort of weird to me.

So, what about the show itself? Squid Game follows a man named Seong Gi-hun (Played by Lee Jung-jae), a down-on-his-luck chauffeur drowning in debt while trying to not disappoint his daughter and care for his sick mother. Out of options, he accepts a strange invitation to compete in a series of children’s games with a massive cash prize at stake. Along with 455 other desperate players, he quickly learns the horrifying truth – losing a game means losing your life. Trapped in a secret facility, the contestants face increasingly brutal challenges under the watchful eyes of masked guards and a mysterious mostly unseen leader. As alliances form and betrayals pile up, the series delves into the darker sides of human nature, exploring themes of morality, desperation, and the high cost of survival in a world stacked against the vulnerable.

To twist the knife even further, Squid Game ultimately unveils the chilling premise behind its deadly competition: a whim of a billionaire loan shark who orchestrates the games purely to entertain himself and his equally wealthy associates. These so-called VIPs, adorned in opulence including jewel encrusted masks, gather in luxurious lounges to indulge in fine meals while watching the desperation and carnage unfold. To them, the lives of the desperate contestants are no more significant than roosters in a cockfight, mere game pieces to bet on, cheer for, and ultimately discard. Their laughter and indifference underscore the dehumanizing effects of unchecked wealth and privilege, turning the suffering of the vulnerable into grotesque entertainment.

Squid Game does an incredible job of focusing its sprawling cast of 456 contestants down to a core group of 15-20 principal characters, each with motivations that are as compelling as they are tragic. Their reasons for entering the game highlight just how dire their situations are, with many of them willingly returning to the competition even after being offered the chance to leave. For these individuals, facing death in the game seems like a better alternative than the hopelessness of their everyday lives.

Aside from Seong Gi-hun, the show intricoes a great cast including Cho Sang-woo, a disgraced investment manager who sees the game as his last chance to escape the shame of embezzlement charges and looming financial ruin. Kang Sae-byeok, one of the most compelling players, is a North Korean defector trying to secure enough money to reunite her family and bring her younger brother out of an orphanage. Her story highlights the perilous journey and harsh realities North Korean asylum seekers face even after reaching South Korea. Abdul Ali, a migrant worker from Pakistan, enters the game to support his family after being cruelly exploited, injured, and left unpaid by his employer. Finally, there’s Oh Il-nam, an elderly man with a terminal illness whose motivations seem simple, even heartbreaking.

Not every character in Squid Game is sympathetic, though. Jang Deok-su, a violent gangster, joins the game to avoid being killed by loan sharks and rival criminals, and he isn’t above making alliances or using brute force to get what he wants. His sometimes-ally Han Mi-nyeo is a hustler who’s willing to do whatever it takes to survive, including using her body as leverage to gain allies and move forward. Her desperation and cunning make her one of the most unpredictable contestants in the series. In every one of these cases, the “good guys” or “bad guys” alike, the stresses of the games bring out some of the worst aspects of human nature as well as a glimmer of hope.

All of these contestants faced six deadly games inspired by traditional Korean children’s games, each with a brutal twist. The competition began with Red Light, Green Light, where players raced to a finish line but were eliminated if caught moving during “Red light.” Next came the Dalgona challenge, where players had to carve out delicate shapes from a cookie-like candy disk without breaking it. Tug of War tested teamwork, as losing teams were pulled to their deaths, while the Marbles game forced paired contestants to compete against each other in games of their choice, with the loser eliminated. The penultimate challenge, Glass Stepping Stones, required players to traverse a bridge made of glass panels, some of which would shatter under their weight, leaving earlier participants at greater risk. Finally, the titular Squid Game involved a violent showdown as the last two contestants battled for survival.

As you might gather from my descriptions above, this is a show where it’s best not to get too attached to any one character. Their lives often feel ephemeral, cut short just as you start to understand and connect with who they are. This isn’t my first dive into stories like this – I learned early on with Battle Royale to expect the worst and simply watch the drama unfold. That said, Squid Game features a fantastic cast of characters who are easy to root for. Even the ones you despise are so compelling that you love to hate them, and it’s hard not to hold onto the hope that they’ll face some sort of comeuppance for their misdeeds.

That said, I know that not everyone will enjoy a show this bleak. If you struggle with stories where beloved characters meet untimely ends, this might not be for you. Like Game of Thrones or other “death game” narratives, Squid Game doesn’t shy away from major character deaths, and for some, that can be a dealbreaker.

Squid Game is an amazing show with millions of fans out there, with many today clamoring for the third season which is supposed to air sometime in mid 2025. Drawing from a rich tradition of dystopian “death game” stories, Squid Game stands out with its ability to balance brutal, high-stakes drama with complex, relatable characters. It never loses sight of being “Korean” in a world that would have most media homogenize into one big Hollywood-tinged mass. It’s really no wonder why this has become perhaps the most popular modern TV series in many countries. South Korea continues it’s unbroken streak of taking over western pop culture with shows like this, and I really couldn’t be any happier.