Major spoilers for Squid Game ahead
Squid Game is arguably the television event of the year. Its popularity is massive, eclipsing the release of media juggernaut James Bond by overshadowing No Time To Die in the same timeframe. Everyone is talking about it, even my mum has asked if I’ve seen Squid Game and if she should watch it, and that’s something that seldom happens unless it’s Sharknado or another rubbish film starring Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. Yes, my mum has good taste.
What I’m saying is that Squid Game is a big deal, attracting millions of viewers from around the world thanks to its creative spin on a familiar premise. It’s dark, brutal, funny, and a poignant examination of modern societal struggles that so many can resonate with. It’s razor sharp storytelling and wonderful characters allow its nine episodes to go by in the blink of an eye, and given the binge culture that has defined streaming services for years now, people are already asking for more.
Creator Hwang Dong-hyuk has already said he doesn’t have any concrete ideas for a second season, making it clear that the show was likely intended to be an isolated story with an ambiguous conclusion that further reinforces everything it set out to say. The final episode concludes with protagonist Seong Gi-hun preventing another poor soul from falling victim to the game, tearing the calling card away from him before boarding a plane to Los Angeles where he can finally reunite with his family.
With endless riches and a new lease of life now grounding him, all seems well, but in the final moments, he dials the number on the card. Now in a position of power, he demonises the twisted game masters for taking advantage of people like him, saying he isn’t a horse and can’t stand idly by as more and more innocent people are murdered in the name of twisted amusement. He turns to the camera, walking towards us as the screen fades to black and the credits roll.
This is a cliffhanger, with Gi-hun’s final words acting as a mission statement for what he plans to do next and how he plans to fight back against an unfair system that knowingly abuses those who simply don’t know better. But despite his resistance, the corrupt powers that be will continue to operate, since one man will change nothing in the grand scheme of things. It’s harsh, but undeniably true.
The show’s ending is a metaphor for real life protest movements, or lowly individuals finally drumming up the courage to fight back and say they’re as mad as hell, and they’re not going to take this anymore. That ethos is powerful enough, it doesn’t need to be hammered home with an additional season of episodes where our hero goes up against a system that outmatches him in every conceivable way beyond his own understanding of humanity. Besides, all of the supporting characters are dead, with only a few loose ends yet to be tied away. We’d need to introduce a new selection of personalities worth caring about who are no longer forced to develop bonds and resort to horrible means of survival amidst a game where they have minimal chances of winning.
Our hero is already broken, the trauma of having to value his own life in spite of others having worn him down so much, but at the centre still sits a man who cares. In the final confrontation he chooses to save Sang-woo, to throw the money away and offer another chance of life away from all this. His friend refuses, murdering himself in spite of Gi-hun’s optimism to show that this world is dark and unfair, but you can still find light in the darkness. This message permeates throughout the entire show, solidifying the fact that our own reality is one where the bad guys have won, and we must work alongside the disadvantaged to find value in our own lives, and to respect the meaning of others. In the end, it can’t all be nothing, and despite all of its misery, Squid Game ends on a note of hope.
Does Gi-hun enter the competition again, or work his way in from the inside by teaming up with law enforcement who received evidence from the police officer moments before being murdered at the hands of his own brother. Or was he? See, there’s so many unanswered questions that would be perfect for another season, yet I feel bowing to this pressure will only dilute the message at Squid Game’s core. Battle Royale is a perfect example of this trajectory. The original is a Japanese classic, while its sequel seeked to expand upon its mythos and explore the evil individuals at the centre of its disgusting game. The more you reveal, the less mysterious it becomes, and the more plot contrivances arise as viewers are compelled to piece all of the disparate elements together.
It could be a show to go against the status quo, although I imagine Netflix is awfully tempted to bankroll a second season given Squid Game’s unparalleled success, meaning a direct continuation or standalone narrative will be constructed to accommodate such a thing. If it does happen, and it likely will, I hope it doesn’t throw away so much of what made the first season so special. It was a harrowing watch, but one sprinkled with hope and love, showing that the care we foster for one another is far more powerful than the political and economic systems that seek to control our lives and determine what we can and can't do. Gi-hun was able to escape this perpetual prison, even if he stepped over the corpses of friends and family to make it all possible, but in the end he’s ready to fight back and stand up for himself, and we don’t need to see that coming revolution for ourselves to know it means something.