The world of Squid Game can directly be linked to that of the other Netflix IP The Platform, with both being searing takes on the concept of capitalism even as folks from the lower stratas of the society are left to fight with one another for a reward at the end of the day. The modern day comparison of the show can be the plush corporates who offer you high-paying jobs at the behest of luring you into a rat-race with a dozen survivors like you, with whom you fight it out for a promotion or appraisal at the end of the day. And when the fight within you is diminishing, you are indispensable or in case of the show, ‘killed off’ even as others around you are always present to grab an opportunity. In a way, it is similar to gambling, a concept that is freshly introduced in the fray with respect to the games here wherein the group collectively decides to stay or quit the game based on what they reckon is enough with respect to the cash prize. The temptation is always there, even as the top capitalists convert the chaos into a prime time show!

Come to think of it, the second season of Squid Game is a natural progression to the first wherein the naivety and need of the protagonist Gin-Hu (Lee Jung-jae) is transformed into a self-reflective form of rebellion. The post traumatic effects of the arena have started to bother him to the point that he seeks revenge against the main proprietors of the game. As a parallel subplot is police inspector Hwang Jun-ho (Wi Ha-joon) who joins hands with Gin-hu in a bid to trace his lost brother whom he had encountered on an island. The first two episodes essentially form a long meandering buildup towards the face-off that eventually turns anti-climactic for Gin-hu. The crux of the season with regard to how capitalism works (both in the show and otherwise) is reflective in a little incident in the first episode – you see the recruiter from the first season play a game of bread and lottery with a group of homeless people. The test is of greed that forces most folks to choose the lottery as opposed to opting for a bread as an immediate source of food (much like the contestants at a later point in the show), only for them to watch the bread being stomped by him, and putting the blame on the homeless. The thing to note here being that there is always a choice, but it becomes a collective one when the games are underway.

The proceedings from the third episode onwards are particularly catered towards the fans of the show, on what made Squid Game popular in the first place – which are the games in itself. Gin-hu finds himself in the midst of yet another interesting bunch of characters with familiar character arcs to boast of – a mother-son pair who are debt-ridden, an underground rapper and his side-kick who finds himself in the arena owing to a crypto-currency loss from a stakeholder who himself is a part of the games along with his pregnant ex, a transgender wishing to earn money for her s*x-change operation, and a group of marines who complete the fray. Each character has an arc but with a rider that doesn’t always have an instant payoff in this ‘transition’ season (more on this later).

The games here are a mix of familiarity and novelty that builds the dynamics between the characters. I must however point out that while the stakes here are as high as the last season with the contestants dying a dog’s death if they lose, the stakes aren’t as high with respect to some of the main characters because this is a ‘transition’ season. By that, I mean that not all character arcs are complete even as the games of gore end with a streak of violence before forcing the contestants to retrospect about their future chances through a voting. The searing commentary on human behavior, and the extent of greed that transpires in the wake of capitalism is what the drama wishes to position itself to be. Having said that, a late surge of opting to challenge the concept of capitalism on the back of a rebellious streak possessed by the protagonist does result in a tense face-off, while being a showcase of resources that results in a cliffhanger at the end. Here, I must add that I am not particularly a fan of a ‘transition’ season which doesn’t tie off the loose ends (a subplot involving the cop Jun-ho is so half-baked along with another subplot of organ trafficking), while leaving several plot-points to be tied in the subsequent seasons. The quest must always be to end a particular track before starting something new. That said, the screenplay still does shine with moments aplenty although the writing remains a pale shadow of the first season in the wake of familiarity with its original concept.