'I Regret Watching 'Squid Game' Season Two — And Advised Friends To Avoid'
This article contains spoilers for Squid Game seasons one and two.
There’s a theme they try to repeatedly circle around in Squid Game season one, and heavily in season two — the illusion of free will and choice. You’re supposed to wonder from the comfort of your couch whether the people who find themselves on the murder-filled island, playing for the pleasure of the rich (and to feed the illegal organ donation market), found themselves there by choice. They played the ddakji game, they called the number, they even (the Front Man and his clients would have you believe) put themselves in situations that ultimately led them to such desperation. In season one, those arguments are less convincing for most of us (when the murdering starts) and are more about introducing debates around how our free will isn’t really free at all, but is governed more by capitalism and inequitable societies.
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In season two though, with the introduction of the X and O votes, the contestants (well, more than 50% of them) willingly volunteer (repeatedly, even as you scream through your fingers) to keep playing, (mostly) knowing the score, tempted by the piles of cash stored above their heads. Though, with many gambling addicts among them and a society so stacked against them that even the supposedly democratic crypto market and medical bills have landed some in the game, everything is still up for debate. Reminders that we all make choices are repeatedly (and by episode six, quite annoyingly) underlined by the proclamations of ‘Player 001’ (as the viewer knows, really The Front Man) and his knowing looks with every question he asks Seon Gi-hun (although, of course the very presence of 001 illustrates how stacked the game is, so…).
All of this came to my mind as, during episode five’s game of Mingle I shouted out loud, ‘No, please, no more, when will this end?’ Because, sat right beside me was the remote control which could’ve made the completely fictional set-up come to a very abrupt end, if I really wanted it to. Of course, just like the trapped players, I was pinned to my screen by a number of outside factors. Firstly, it’s part of my job (capitalism!). Further, having edited a number of pieces for your consideration about the ending of the show (society! Google!) I knew how it ended before watching season two, which was particularly depressing. The big behemoth Netflix and all of the podcasts I listen to and people I follow on social media (shakes fist at the sky!) had made it so I felt like I had to watch to be part of the zeitgeist. And my own inability to just let things go once I’ve started them (this one’s probably my fault!) kept me going.
Much like Gi-hun, I’d entered season one unknowing, and had felt the full blast of Squid Game’s righteous fury. By season two, I knew what I was in for. Maybe that’s why this time, the overwhelming brutality of the show hit me hard, because it was my own fault for going back into that world. And unlike him, I had no noble quest to excuse it.
Season two has been praised for more character development — we have best friends, pregnant women, a trans woman, a mother and son, drug-addled pop stars, bullying, sick children, traumatised soldiers. For me, that made this season even more excruciating. Does that mean I’m awful? Preferring my mass-murder on screen if it’s more faceless? That’s not great, is it? I'll add that to things to feel bad about. But there are choices in creating fiction and some of the heartstrings were purposefully tugged too hard for me, personally.
And all of this on a cold January night. The timing of viewing itself was a struggle — watching a show about the horror of capitalism after Christmas didn’t sit brilliantly (again, my fault and very much the point, I know). At the bleakest time of the year, it was just so depressing and anxiety-inducing to watch. If I’m not going to over-theorise it, I’d just say I felt really, really upset by it all (yes I know, that's part of the idea too!).
Like many I’ve seen online, I also struggled with the X and O vote. At the beginning I felt it was a well-written and interesting device by writer, creator and director Hwang Dong-hyuk. Ok, I feel like, had I been shot at by snipers during a game of What’s The Time Mr Wolf, I’d have paid to leave. But the idea of having gamblers and desperate people who have just managed (by freak of luck) to survive death and have cash emptying over their heads with the promise of ‘just one more game’ for a load more? I get it. But when it got to the point where people were being offered more than £100,000 and their lives and still didn't leave, it just lost its power for me. Especially when they started committing mass murder in pursuit of it all. It was a fictional step too far. As was the glaringly obviously crooked sea captain, but that’s another issue.
If you’re going to get meta as well, the quotes from Dong-hyuk about how season one (Netflix’s biggest ever hit, with 330 million viewers) were so stressful that he lost teeth and made very little money are especially ironic and make for grim reading. ‘I’m not that rich,’ he told the Guardian. ‘But I do have enough. I have enough to put food on the table. And it’s not like Netflix is paying me a bonus. Netflix paid me according to the original contract.’ Seasons two and three then are being touted by many as Dong-hyuk’s opportunity to make the money he should have first time round. Which is… a lot in the context of the show.
For all those reasons (and the stress dreams that followed) when a few friends have told me they struggled with season one and weren’t sure whether to do season two, I advised them not to bother. Especially at a time when many of those friends had already shared with me that they’re struggling with the January restart and aiming for a positive mindset. The show is an incredible feat and phenomenon, and there were some things I thought were brilliant about season two. In fact, maybe my emotional reaction to it is testament to its power.
But, my over-stretched metaphors aside, we do have the privilege of paying for our subscriptions, wielding our own remote and choosing what fiction we bring into our downtime. And in January, I’m not entirely sure we need Squid Game season two rattling around our brains.
Not that any one of the VIPs in the control room, sorry I mean at Netflix, will be worrying. The show has been an incredible success again — season two had 68 million views in its first three days, a record for the streaming service, previously held by Wednesday, which had 50.1million in its first week. And season three is coming in 2025, having already been filmed (I'd add the 'cliffhanger' and leaving the story half done was also an annoyance given the completion of season one).
So, should you watch Squid Game season two? Well, not only is that up to you, but wielding your vote is likely a drop in the great ocean of streaming successes. But I’d say if that sentence depresses you, then it could be worth a swerve.
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