Squid Game Review — I’m Still Grieving
The new Netflix thriller has changed the way the world views South Korean TV. Millions of watchers have become captivated by its story of if you win a child’s playground game, you win money. As for the build up, 456 debt-ridden players sign a no going back contract to win money (subsequently erasing their debts). What didn’t they know they were signing up for? If they lose, they get eliminated — permanently.
Main man Seong Gi-Hun (Lee Jung-Jae) is an awful son, and an even worse father. He gambles every penny he owns and loses sight of what’s most important to him — his daughter. To rid his debts and become a better son for his elderly diabetic mother, alongside becoming present in his young daughters life, he becomes player 456. The first game he, amongst the other 455 players take part in, is ‘Red Light, Green Light’ — as a brit the game is similar to ‘Grandmas Footsteps’. We almost lose player 456 to this game, but 199 (Ali) saves him — creating a friendship we see throughout the series. This first episode, paired with the freaky animatronic robot girl who eliminates the losers, ends with bloodied and bullet ridden bodies piled on top of each other, hence showing the remaining players the small print of the contract they happily signed — if you slip up , you’re a goner.
Even if you can stomach the events of the first episode of the gory thriller, the worst is yet to come. The nine-part series is the very first Korean show to reach number one on Netflix in the US and UK. The viewers of this maybe those that enjoy cult classics such as Battle Royale and even The Hunger Games, yet Squid Game is a harsh reality on what South Korea is like right now — severe wealth inequality. The rich are very rich, and the poor are very poor and dying. You’re left not only feeling bad for the players, but also (immorally) relieved when they get killed — there can only be one winner, and even if they made it out alive, their poor and depressing lifestyles will kill them anyway.
Brilliant yet frustrating cliff-hangers give this show the binge-worthy appeal millions of us love. The aesthetically pleasing sets for each game and the intense colour wash over the series as a whole made Squid Game visually inviting to keep the viewers intrigued. The contrast between the green tracksuits of the players and the bright pink uniforms of the gunmen/workers is visually perfect, and the cutscenes of the randomly coloured stairs itch a scratch for the views of the show — its just beautiful.
As for the cast, the main players of the game are Seong Gi-Hun, and his shady childhood friend Cho Sang-Woo (Park Hae-Soo) — a discredited banker on the run. One of the highlights of the series is watching Kang Sae-Byeok (Jung Ho-Yeon), a North Korean pickpocket (who stole Gi-Hun’s money earlier on in the show) learn to trust those around her. What started off as a kind-hearted alliance of two old friends and a girl worried for her family, ended in betrayal and murder in the final episode.
Squid Game leaves the viewers feeling squeamish after every episode, yet they itch for more once the credits roll. It’s a prime example of a show where the viewers like or dislike characters too quickly, leading to them being heartbroken by the plot and cause them to scream at the tv wishing they were there to help their favourites out. It is captivating, and somewhat soul destroying.
You will not see a more addictive show this year.
