POPCORN REVIEWSS

The third season of Squid Game can be appreciated even more if it is essentially viewed as a second part of the second season. This is because the incomplete character arcs of the second season find their closure in the third, even as the giant global phenomena comes to an imperfect yet fitting conclusion. The rebellion has been controlled, the mob has been silenced, the house is back on the winning spree, even as the remains of the dead are dumped on the mysterious island in South Korea. At the helm of things is Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) whose previous attempt of a skirmish has been neutralized, even as capitalism is restored in the gaming arena. It is similar to a rebellious group of employees voicing their opinion on the injustice of capitalism against an organization, only for the latter to have them ‘fired’ (here being fired is symbolic in the most literal sense). Hence, the tone and mood of the drama is largely sombre and understated in the aftermath of the incident.

There are a host of tracks unfolding parallely – namely, a search operation lead by Detective Hwang (Wi Ha-joon) who is unaware of the presence of a traitor amidst them, an insider executing an unlikely rescue of contestant 246 on common grounds on parenting, the Front Man (Lee Byung-hun) fighting his own dilemma while silently rooting for the release of Gi-hun, along with the ‘games’ that are designed to progress as scheduled. But at the helm of things remains Gi-hun who is in the midst of his own character arc. For a character who was once shown to be betting on ‘horses’ in races, is in the midst of becoming a ‘horse’ himself, even as his internal trauma is tapped during a game of ‘morality’.

The broader themes of capitalism are mostly prevalent even as the ultra-rich watch on, as the ‘poor’ debt-ridden largely fight amongst themselves in what can be termed as one fatal encounter after another. In fact, one of the important twists of the season revolves around the inclusion of a new ‘player’ that is brought in by fate, as opposed to ‘debt’. It represents a symbol of humanization in the midst of cannibalism (a symbolic term for the killings here), with capitalism instantly willing to pounce on it during its first few breaths. There is a direct countering-theme in play too – one that is of humanity and brotherhood even as you notice the group of characters coming together during a game to help each other, some out of greed but others out of a unified bond of togetherness. During this passage, personal equations are put to test and the dynamics formed in the moment are quite interesting –  A mother-son equation that is laced in a tragedy, a character returning to help her fellow players to get over the line, only to get killed, a pregnant character being helped out by a couple of other ‘caring’ players to name a few.

Largely, the game for Gi-hun remains psychological given that the characters remains at a conflict with himself. The larger emotion after the rebellion is that of anger and revenge, but the conflict remains of preserving life. In a scene, you see him hesitating in killing another character who had ‘frozen’ and thereby betrayed him in the process, only for the format of the games to coax Gi-hun into committing the sin. But even then, you see a human side to the character who is willing to help his fellow players (who are his direct competitors) during the games. This makes him one of the more complex characters in the larger scheme of things – one who started by being frivolous to someone who is matured and understated with his approach.

In a way, Gi-hun and The Front Man remain alter egoes of each other. This remains a fact when both these characters involved in a rich vein of history, come face to face with each other for the first time, wherein Gi-hun comes to terms with the identity of The Front Man. The psychological game begins with a choice given by the latter, given how The Front Man himself remains conflicted on the morality surrounding the games, and Gi-hun in particular. The choice is simple – murder his way out of the game and claim victory, an emotion that circled back to the events of the first season when Gi-hun was faced with a similar situation, until he was reminded that he was a man with ‘a good heart’. There is caution on the part of Gi-hun the second time around, unlike The Front Man who had succumbed to the greed, once upon a time. Their dynamic is opposing, with an even more skewed sense of morality that intertwines between their current realities.

One of the minor drawbacks of the show include the external factors around the gaming arena. The unraveling of the plot around the identity of the island, or even a supposed rescue-mission feels simplistic and subplots that take you away from the drama. Even the concluding bits of these individual subplots kind of make the drama around it pointless, given how conveniently they are wrapped up. But elsewhere, the games are more psychological in nature. This statement holds true for the finale game that barters the crowd-pleasing sentiment of a bloodbath (where the viewers would double up as capitalists contrary to what the show wishes to be viewed as) for something that is more psychological and layered in nature.

The basic human trait of survival is laced with a strong sense of morality that creates an intriguing ambience at the end – something that ends on a rather unexpected note. But importantly, the to and forth exchange of dialogue of Gi-hun blurs the boundaries of cinema, who claims on how the players aren’t ‘horses’, a perfect symbolism of a ‘sinned’ character arc that is about to conclude! The outro again remains symbolic of how capitalism is so deeply spread in the veins of the society, that it is virtually impossible to stem it from its roots. The idea of the ‘games’ being played elsewhere still holds true through a starry-cameo that arrives late in the day. And in a way, the screenplay sums up this broader sentiment perfectly, in a drama that is more understated and psychological in its last dance!