Review: How ‘Squid Game’ Season 3 Came Crashing Down

Squid Game was lightning in a bottle. A South Korean series about down-on-their-luck contestants killing each other over childhood games in vibrant set designs was enough to enrapture any viewer but toss in the social commentary about human greed and the exploitation of the modern capitalist system, and you have the perfect drama that’s equal parts gruesome entertainment and morbid character introspection to binge during the 2021 lockdowns. 

It was a pop culture phenomenon, becoming Netflix’s most-watched series to date with over 260 million views. Lee Jung-jae and Jung Ho-yeon each took home an Emmy and Screen Actors Guild award. Creator and director Hwang Dong-hyuk conveyed a powerful and impactful message in what should have been a one-and-done season. 

Alas, four years later, here we are with Squid Game seasons 2 and 3. Like the VIPs who can’t resist the tantalising violence of the games, studio execs couldn’t simply walk away from the viral IP that, in their eyes, was a quick and easy way to surge viewership and subscriptions, even at the expanse of the show’s creative integrity. Creator Hwang Dong-hyuk also stated he returned because he wasn’t paid well for season one and wanted a bigger payout (the irony just writes itself).

With a mindset like that, it should be no surprise, dear reader, that lighting did not strike twice. Ahead, find out how the bloody spectacle of Squid Game came crashing down in its final season.

[Major spoilers ahead—please watch Squid Game seasons 2 and 3 before proceeding or consider yourself warned.]

As a viewer, what was frustrating to watch was how Squid Game seasons 2 and 3 rehashed the same story beats and themes of the first season, but in a much less nuanced way that lacked the emotional punch and profound insights. You’ve got the deadly games, a snooze-fest of an island hunt by Detective Hwang Jun-ho, and the embarrassingly comical VIPs. Even certain characters are straight-up repeated archetypes from season one.

Season 2 did set up several plot points that were building up towards something more intense and interesting; however, season 3 suffered a complete tonal shift that abandoned these plotlines altogether. The most frustrating of them is the relationship between Gi-hun and the Front Man. 

The Front Man’s entrance into the games was one of the most interesting aspects of season 2 and viewers were promised an intense psychological and ideological battle between the two. However, come season 3, the characters had no interaction with each other save one two-minute scene. When the Front Man finally reveals his identity to Gi-hun (a highly-anticipated moment built up from season 1), all the player does is stare in silent rage. The cat-and-mouse game that gave Squid Game the delicious psychological tension in season 2 was nowhere to be seen in the final season.

Further, we were sure Wi Ha-joon wouldn’t have returned to reprise his role as Detective Hwang if he didn’t have a bigger role this time around, but we were proven wrong. In fact, his side plot is even more of a drag to watch because of how inconsequential it is. Vying for the worst detective in South Korea, his island-hopping endeavours across two seasons easily put Dora the Explorer to shame. 

In saying that, Squid Game season 3 was off to a great start with its first three episodes. The game of hide and seek with knives was incredibly tense and delivered the highest emotional stakes in the show, reminiscent of season one’s Ggangbu episode. However, it was also where everything started to derail. Not only were many of the characters that viewers closely followed in season 2 unceremoniously killed off (leading to a group of random and forgettable players in ‘Sky Squid Game’), but it was also the introduction of the baby, or should we say, the uncanny CGI thingamabob. 

Part of what makes Squid Game so riveting to watch is its unflinching look into the darkest corners of our psyche and the intense quandaries players are put in for the pursuit of wealth. With the baby as a plot device, viewers no longer get to indulge in this moral ambiguity as characters are reduced to Team Baby or Team Murder Baby. This lack of subtlety and refusal to examine human behaviour in a more nuanced way makes for a shocking albeit hollow storyline. 

While season 2 lays some groundwork for several characters, season 3 does little to flesh them out. As a result, the new players ultimately feel frustratingly one-dimensional and undeveloped. Sure, we were greatly saddened by the deaths of sympathetic characters such as Hyun-ju (player 120) and Jun-hee (player 222), but we don’t actually know much about them beyond their surface struggles. 

Even insidious characters such as Nam-gyu (player 124), Myung-gi (player 333), and Jeong-dae (player 100) are portrayed as villainous caricatures. This is a far cry from season one’s antagonist Sang-woo, who felt incredibly real and believable. 

The inclusion of the newborn only further flattens character arcs. Now, players only exist as either avatars of good or evil in its simplest forms. With characters pointing and shouting for the death of a baby at the turn of a whip while VIPs stare on gleefully from their lush decks, the series became a parody of itself.  

The North Korean defector and pink guard, No-eul, offered a somewhat interesting perspective of the games from the other side of the gun. However, even her efforts to save Park Gyeong-seok (player 246) did little to contribute any new information about the games or emotional impact.

And then, there’s Gi-hun. He has never been a likeable protagonist—he’s stubborn, impulsive, and a gambling-obsessed deadbeat father who abandoned his daughter on his quest for revenge. Truthfully, there isn’t much to root for him other than his singular redeeming trait, which is his capacity for empathy. This comes full force after he promises Jun-hee to keep her child safe and becomes its protector. 

There were many times we were frustrated at his decisions, from his foolish coup d’état to his out-of-character killing of Dae-ho without a smidge of remorse after the act, but we believe his death is the one thing the show actually did right. Gi-hun’s sacrifice is the type of poetic justice we’ve been looking for in the show. 

It’s unrealistic to believe that he would’ve been able to take down the entire system like he initially planned, but his death was the final show of rebellion that refused to give the games what they wanted. It’s upsetting and sad that things turned out this way, but we couldn’t see a more fitting way for him to go out.

The Front Man is still an enigmatic and mysterious character, and we’re no closer to figuring him out. He had a pivotal role in season 2 as a player; however, season 3 sees him noticeably take a back seat—a decision we cannot phantom due to Lee Byung-hyun and Lee Jung-jae’s fantastic chemistry on-screen as ideological opposites. The series did not benefit from having the Front Man sit on his lavish chair while having listless conversations with the VIPs for the majority of season 3.

Squid Game season 3 is a cautionary tale of how some things should be left alone. It’s clear that director-writer Hwang Dong-hyuk had said and done everything he wanted to in the first season, leading to a repetitive and uninspired second and third seasons. 

Rather than games that packed moral and emotional punches, the gruesome action in Squid Game became increasingly grubby and operatic, building up towards a messy and draggy finale. It’s time we do what Gi-hun should’ve done from the start and leave that island behind for good.

Rating: 6/10

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