This review contains spoilers.
Netflix’s Squid Game series, created by Hwang Dong-hyuk, earned its massive popularity for many reasons. Its surreal and bloody twists on Korean childhood games intrigue audiences; The depiction of class inequality in the games parallels late-stage capitalism. Fundamentally, though, the Squid Game series explores human nature, with characters who feel fleshed out even when the show delves into satire. Squid Game 3, however, seems more interested in reaching its conclusion than engaging in the storytelling that made the series compelling.
This final season picks up from the end of season 2. Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) must contend with the loss of the rebellion he led against the Front Man (Lee Byung-hun) and the organization that runs Squid Games. In the face of defeat and disillusionment, season 3 asks: how does one go on when the exploitation and cruelty of capitalism seemingly has no end?
Of course, there is only so much time to mull over existential questions when survival is at stake. Throughout the games, much of the tension comes from the morally compromising decisions that characters have to make. The second episode, devoted to a deadly game of Hide and Seek in which each Seeker must kill a Hider in order to survive, is one of the most suspenseful and heartbreaking of the show. As the roles are drawn randomly, Geum-ja (Kang Ae-shim) is on the opposite side of her son Yong-sik (Yang Dong-geun). So are pregnant woman Jun-hee (Jo Yuri) and her baby’s father Myung-gi (Im Si-wan). One can anticipate the conflicts for these characters, but the results are unexpected and devastating.
During the game, Jun-hee delivers her baby, which for some represents hope for the future and a reason for living. Protecting a baby feels like a clear moral stance. This is certainly true for Cho Hyun-ju (Park Sung-hoon), who sacrifices her own safety to look after Jun-hee, and Geum-ja, whose instincts lead her to protect Jun-hee and her baby over her own son. Geum-ja, however, ultimately views her choice as unforgivable, and Kang’s moving performance makes us feel her grief, despair, and shame.
Children as a source of motivation becomes a common trope in the series. For instance, No-eul (Park Gyu-young), a North Korean defector turned Squid Game shooter, makes it her mission to save Player 246 (Lee Jin-wook), who has a sick daughter. To an extent, it makes sense that children inspire the characters to live for something greater than themselves.
In terms of storytelling, however, Jun-hee’s baby eliminates any suspense surrounding the games’ outcome. Killing a baby is one of the most taboo acts in any culture. When the Front Man decides that the baby will enter the games as a player, one never believes that the series will actually dare to kill the baby off. It is essentially a foregone conclusion that the baby will survive the games — it is just a question of whether anyone else will also “win.”
Unfortunately, the Hide and Seek game and subsequent Jump Rope game result in the deaths of most of the characters audiences have come to know during season 2. The final two episodes revolve around Gi-hun trying to save the baby from men (notably, only men) who have no qualms about “eliminating” it from the competition. Other than the sums of money they owe, these men have little backstory or even personality — very much the opposite of the appeal of the other seasons, where even the villains were well-rounded characters.
Worse are the VIPs who appear starting in episode 3. Gleefully commenting, betting on players, and even masquerading as guards, the VIPs appear as nothing more than cartoonish villains. The mediocre writing and poor line readings make these characters intolerable to watch.
Season 3 does attempt an interesting arc for Myung-gi, who consistently claims to want to look after Jun-hee and the baby, but makes selfish decisions that belie that promise. In episode 2, he kills people even though he has already passed the round, committing an action that leads him to be irredeemable in Jun-hee’s eyes. It is only then that he feels guilt. In a later episode, he makes moves to defend the baby, but it becomes clear that he will choose himself above all. This revelation, however, is clumsily executed, with Myung-gi acting one way at one moment and then changing his mind the next. The actor does well with the material, but he can only make the character believable to a point.
Squid Game 3 also squanders the dramatic potential in the relationship between Gi-hun and the Front Man, which formed the central plotline of season 2. The writers attempt to draw parallels between the two characters, with flashbacks showing the Front Man as a contestant. He contrives a similar situation for Gi-hun that he faced himself: killing players to end the games. Gi-hun, however, will maintain his moral compass the best he can. While their contrasts make sense on paper, the final scene between the two feels anticlimactic. After an entire season with the Front Man pretending to be a contestant, the revelation of his true identity comes quickly, and their brief scene sidelines what should have been a core conflict of season 3.
Similarly, there is no payoff with the Front Man and his brother, policeman Jun-ho (Wi Ha-joon). Jun-ho spends nearly two seasons searching for the island where the Squid Games are held. When he reaches it and has a last encounter with the Front Man, he essentially sees him from afar. Again, a more dramatic, and therefore satisfying resolution of this relationship is cut short.
Some viewers may also feel dissatisfied with the ending. The games end bleakly, conveying that the system cannot be dismantled, and all one can do in a cruel world is hold onto humanity, even if that means personal sacrifice. There is no inherent problem with withholding a happy ending. However, due to the questionable writing choices throughout the season, the resolution of Gi-hun’s story loses impact.
The actual last scene, though, feels like a gross betrayal of the series’ anti-capitalist bent. The ending finds the Front Man in Los Angeles, where he spots another Squid Games recruiter played by Cate Blanchett. Perhaps the writers want to underscore the pervasiveness of the upper class’s exploitation of people who struggle financially. However, the scene does not have that effect. Not only is the ending goofy (why would Blanchett recruit people through playing ddakji?), but it blatantly sets up a possible spinoff series set in the United States.
Ultimately, capitalism reigns: if the rumored Hollywood spinoff comes to fruition, Netflix could continue this intellectual property. That is our final impression: a reminder that the series is IP. Squid Game 3 thus concludes with cynicism instead of the humanity it claims to uphold.
