Squid Games (Season 1)

Review

I approached Squid Game with trepidation, wary of an Americanized spin on a Korean 

series. I also wasn't thrilled about this encroachment on a genre the Japanese do often and well. A Korean kill game type drama? Not one of Korea's typical - they usually leave it to Japanese. So that was one strike against watching it. But there were other things that didn't put it in the neat box I had Korean drama content in. What stood out especially were its multiple short seasons which is a departure from the traditional single, 16 episode K-drama format. As someone who avoids the blood-and-gore kill-game genre, I was reluctant but curious, driven by the show’s inescapable presence in Asian content circles and pop culture. I wanted to grasp its significance to keep up with references. Squid Game delivered both what I expected—a brutal, high-stakes survival drama akin to The Hunger Games—and far more, with a level of gore and psychological intensity that was profoundly unsettling. The show’s ability to transform nostalgic childhood games into deadly trials is both ingenious and horrifying, pulling viewers into a world where desperation overrides morality.  The production is visually striking, with iconic imagery like the triangle-masked enforcers and the eerie “Red Light, Green Light” doll now etched into global consciousness. The emotional weight is heavy, making it a challenging watch for empaths or those sensitive to graphic violence and moral decay. Yet, its exploration of human desperation and strategic cunning is undeniably compelling. I recommend Squid Game to those who can handle the gore and don’t mind a cast of deeply flawed characters. It’s not a feel-good story, but it’s a cultural juggernaut that’s worth experiencing to understand its impact, even if it left me slightly rattled.Spoilers Review

Squid Game Season 1 is a gut-wrenching plunge into human desperation, strategic brilliance, and moral depravity, amplified by its unrelenting brutality. The opening “Red Light, Green Light” game, where hundreds of contestants are gunned down in a spray of blood by an automated doll, was far gorier than I anticipated. I expected mass casualties, but the immediate, visceral slaughter—players falling mid-game, surrounded by their peers—was a level of cruelty I wasn’t prepared for. The psychological torment was equally jarring. The decision by Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) and others to return after the first game, despite witnessing such horror, underscored the bleakness of their lives outside. Their choice to risk death for a chance at financial redemption was both shocking and a haunting commentary on societal desperation.

The characters’ moral failings were staggering. Cho Sang-woo (Park Hae-soo), Gi-hun’s childhood friend, revealed a ruthless edge, deceiving his ally in the marble game and later killing Kang Sae-byeok (Jung Ho-yeon), the North Korean defector whose cautious yet principled nature I admired. Sae-byeok’s death, after Player 067 (Lee Yoo-mi) sacrificed herself for her, felt like a cruel twist, especially when Sang-woo delivered the final blow. Jang Deok-su (Heo Sung-tae), the gangster, was a vile force, and his manipulative dynamic with Han Mi-nyeo (Kim Joo-ryoung), who played every side with chilling amorality, epitomized the show’s cutthroat ethos. Mi-nyeo’s willingness to ally with Deok-su, including their disturbing sexual encounter, highlighted her lack of conscience.The games were diabolical in their design. The tug-of-war, where Gi-hun’s team, guided by Oh Il-nam’s (O Yeong-su) leaning-back strategy, barely survived, was a pulse-pounding highlight. Sang-woo’s tactic to rush forward during the game was a stroke of ruthless genius I hadn’t considered. The marble game, forcing players to betray trusted allies, was pure psychological evil, tearing at bonds formed in the barracks. The night of murder, when lights went out and players like Deok-su’s crew turned on each other, was terrifying, compounded by the horrific organ-harvesting scheme run by corrupt staff. The VIPs, watching the carnage like voyeurs, were as depraved as the game’s orchestrator, the Front Man (Lee Byung-hun), if not more so. I half-expected the final dinner to reveal cannibalism—thankfully, it didn’t, but I wouldn’t have trusted the meal.The glass bridge game, where players like Abdul Ali (Anupam Tripathi) were pushed to their deaths while distinguishing tempered from regular glass, was another layer of cruelty. Sae-byeok’s arc was a standout; her cautious strength made her tragic end all the more devastating. Gi-hun, despite lying in the marble game and harboring murderous thoughts, emerged as the least corrupt in a den of vipers. He wasn’t pure—far from it—but compared to the psychopathy of Sang-woo, Deok-su, or even the calculating Oh Il-nam, he was the closest to redeemable.The strategic reimagination of childhood games was mesmerizing, yet the depravity—from the triangle-masked enforcers to the doll’s chilling presence—was overwhelming. Squid Game is a must-watch for those who can stomach its gore and emotional intensity, offering a raw look at human nature under pressure. I’m torn—partly regretting the emotional toll but glad to understand the cultural touchstones, from the masked enforcers to that haunting doll. It’s a brutal, unforgettable ride that leaves you questioning humanity’s limits.

Synopsis

Season 1, released on September 17, 2021, spans **9 episodes**, each clocking in at an average runtime of **55 minutes**, delivering a pulse-pounding thrill ride that blends high-stakes survival horror with razor-sharp social commentary on inequality and human desperation. If you're into edge-of-your-seat tension, moral dilemmas that linger, and a global phenomenon that sparked endless debates on greed and empathy, this is your gateway—though brace for gut-wrenching twists and violence that spares no one.

In the shadows of Seoul's underbelly, financial ruin forces everyday people to the brink, where a mysterious invitation promises salvation through twisted children's games with a prize of 45.6 billion won—but every loss means a brutal, final elimination.

**Major Characters:**

- **Seong Gi-hun (Player 456) (Lee Jung-jae)**: A down-on-his-luck divorced gambler and deadbeat dad, wracked by debt and regret, who stumbles into the games seeking redemption but uncovers his own fierce will to survive and protect the vulnerable.

- **Cho Sang-woo (Player 218) (Park Hae-soo)**: Gi-hun's brilliant but ruthless childhood friend, a disgraced investment banker hiding from fraud charges, whose calculated pragmatism clashes with his buried conscience in the face of escalating horrors.

- **Kang Sae-byeok (Player 067) (Jung Ho-yeon)**: A fierce North Korean defector and pickpocket mother, driven by an unyielding love for her separated family, navigating the games with sly resourcefulness and quiet steel amid personal betrayals.

- **Abdul Ali (Player 199) (Anupam Tripathi)**: A kind-hearted Pakistani migrant worker exploited in Korea, whose naive trust and unwavering optimism make him a beacon of humanity in a world of cutthroat alliances, only to face heartbreaking exploitation.

- **Jang Deok-su (Player 101) (Heo Sung-tae)**: A savage gangster and loan shark enforcer, all brute force and zero loyalty, who bullies his way through the games with violent dominance, embodying the raw brutality of unchecked power.

- **Oh Il-nam (Player 001) (O Yeong-su)**: An elderly man with a terminal brain tumor, frail and forgetful on the surface, but whose cryptic wisdom and childlike wonder mask layers of unexpected depth that challenge perceptions of innocence and control.

- **Hwang Jun-ho (Wi Ha-joon)**: A determined police detective infiltrating the deadly operation to find his missing brother, balancing official duty with personal peril as he uncovers the sinister machinery behind the facade of play.

- **The Recruiter (Gong Yoo)**: The enigmatic salesman who lures desperate souls with ddakji flips on the subway, his suave charm and hidden agendas serving as the chilling gateway to the games' infernal allure.

- **The Front Man (Hwang In-ho) (Lee Byung-hun)**: The masked overseer enforcing the games' iron rules with cold authority, a shadowy figure whose own haunted past blurs the line between puppet master and former pawn.