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Vote “Yes” for this follow-up
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Vote “Yes” for this follow-up

Squid Game season 2 is now streaming on Netflix.

If Season 1 of the masterful Korean thriller Squid Game introduced audiences to the capitalist hellscape that made possible its grisly elementary school field day for deeply indebted adults, Season 2 is apparently intended to analyze the complexities of this unforgiving terrain. As we follow reluctant victor Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) into the arena, we find an atmosphere charged not by deadly rounds of I Spy or hopscotch, but by interactions that blur any previous notions of hero versus villain or right wing. against false. Expansive storylines and complicated motivations lead to this season’s harshest reality: As easy as it is to blame a faceless machine for everything that’s wrong in the world, no machine can function without the cogs ​who make it work. With a much simpler seven-episode series at his disposal, creator, writer and director Hwang Dong-hyuk explores the layers of this universe with rich storytelling that doesn’t simply take on the cruelties and inequalities of this system. This time, he and the talented cast of Squid Game wonder why any reasonable person would feed on his gears in the first place.

Still traumatized by the events of season 1, budding vigilante Gi-hun refuses to disappear into a comfortable life with his winnings. We learn that he invested three years and his own money in a private search for the game’s magnetic recruiter (Gong Yoo), initially convinced that ending him would end the games. We also learn the recruiter’s disturbing story, which offers the grim perspective of someone completely blinded by their allegiance to these games and a deeply flawed and simplistic self-help mentality. This mainly gives Gong Yoo the space to be less stoic and more of a terrifying arbiter of corporate injustice, delivering an absolutely stunning performance in the process. Not only does he provide a worthy adversary to Lee’s more down-to-earth but equally intense Gi-hun, but he’s also a conduit for some of the season’s most creative moments of tension and breathtaking cinematography.

The Recruiter story makes up the majority of the first episode – a change from how quickly the first season got to the games. But this is no cause for alarm. Despite taking place entirely in the outside world, the first two episodes are so loaded with anxiety-inducing pressure points that even a game of rock, paper, scissors in a dark building can become nightmare fuel. Yes, the games are an obvious centerpiece, but this thoughtful, more leisurely journey proves that Squid Game’s biggest appeal is the world-building.

We also reconnect with police officer Hwang Jun-ho (Wi Ha-joon), who previously went undercover as a game warden in search of his brother In-ho (who, in a twist from the first season, s turned out to be the Front of the game). Man, played by Lee Byung-hun, a quietly creepy character). After accepting a much less exciting mission, he finally reunites with Gi-hun and joins the hero’s quest to discover the games’ secret location. His presence briefly and intriguingly indicates that Season 2 has the police in the crosshairs of social commentary; new character Choi Woo-Seok (Jeon Seok-ho) notes that cops, in his experience, rarely help civilians. But it’s a thread that Hwang and company only tread lightly, a decidedly weaker approach compared to the other ways Squid Game speaks truth to power.

When we finally return to the Squid Game, we meet a legion of new players, including a former YouTuber in trouble for launching faulty crypto (Im Si-wan), his pregnant and savvy ex (Jo Yu-ri), a mother- a duo of sons seeking to collectively repay their gambling debts (Kang Ae-shim and Yang Dong-geun respectively), a young former sailor (Kang Ha-neul) and a menacing former shaman (Chae Kook-hee). While some seem more like archetypes than fully fleshed out characters, Kang’s Jang Geum-ja stands out. More than a loving mother, Geum-ja often draws on her harsh upbringing to draw immeasurable strength for herself and the ragtag group of gamers she adopts as her own family. Other competitors might underestimate the older woman among them, but she proves them wrong with fierce conviction and strong determination.

Also among the set are two fairly high-profile additions. Park Sung-hoon plays Hyun-ju, a former special forces soldier and transgender woman who enters the games to win funds for gender-affirming surgery. (Note: Park is a cis man; Hwang said he had difficulty finding a trans actress in Korea and cast Park for the role rather than cut this important storyline.) Hyun-ju is sharp, compassionate, capable, and complicated — a fully realized person with her own incredibly valid motivations which is handled with notable care from Park and Hwang. Another headline-making choice: Choi Seung-hyun, aka revered South Korean rapper TOP, who plays, well, a revered underground rapper named Thanos. Thanos is an unrepentant flash of chaos in an already electric environment, and Choi has found a way to imbue perfect physical comedy, rage, and tragic recklessness into a character that forces the viewer to simultaneously hold their breath in fear and ask for more. . It’s a match made in hell through and through – although Thanos is not without his own sobering baggage, making him as easy to pity as he is to fear.

Games take a back seat to a troubling new issue: democracy.

There are new games and the return of a fearsome bloodfest – but truth be told, they all take a back seat to a troubling new wrinkle: democracy. Voting played a small role in season one, but each of season two’s matches is punctuated by a chance for the surviving players to finish the whole thing with a majority vote, walking away with an equal share of the prize money. Of course, as the number of victims increases, the size of these shares also increases. Here, Hwang blurs the lines between “us” and “them” as best he can, no longer limited to players and their supervisors. This also means that roles are constantly adjusting. Even though players don’t have weapons, they are armed with their own personal motivations (like expensive healthcare or battling serious addictions), strategic storylines, and a vote that dictates the odds of survival of everyone. It’s a game within a game, giving everyone the chance to unleash their killer instincts, even those who appear to have good intentions.

Following a US election cycle in which voting for self-preservation over the common good was the hottest topic, this development comes almost uncomfortably at an opportune time. But it also cleverly illustrates how games can be divisive, how difficult choices can quickly adjust our perceptions of others, and how in some cases you don’t need masked gunmen to make a space incredibly dangerous. Before, it was much easier to know when games were in progress. Now, not so much. Squid Game trusts us to navigate this more nuanced story, and it’s rewarding. As we watch this heightened depiction of the economic and political forces that dictate our daily lives, we are challenged to determine how we might actually fit into such a thorny universe.