Squid Game Season 2: Improving Debt Culture Critique Through Diversity
Modern media has an expiration date. Films and television series retain relevance in the news cycle for a week maximum. Yet almost a month after its release, Squid Game Season 2 still trends in Netflix’s “Top 10 in the World” ranking. How has this internationally acclaimed thriller maintained viewership and high social media status for so long? I’d argue that it’s because Season 2 is a lot better than Season 1—and worth the hype I didn’t initially feel toward Squid Game.
Of course, I could discuss the fantastic new games or the coached Red Light Green Light session. Plus, it’s easier to root for a main character who has already bettered himself considerably. These aspects certainly contributed to my enhanced experience. But what most convinced me of Season 2’s superiority is the improved diversity.
Better representation helps Season 2 outshine its 2021 predecessor. When we examine overlapping identities as they relate to capitalism, the conversation improves. After all, Season 1 focused heavily on a cisgender, heterosexual male protagonist (Gi-hun) driven to drastic measures by an unsympathetic ex-wife. Ali Abdul, a Pakistani player, is sympathetic but nonetheless portrayed as subservient and naive.
Our two main female roles included a shrill, selfish woman who relied on sexual favors (Mi-nyeo) and a cunning yet duplicitous North Korean defector (Sae-byeok). Overall, the men outnumbered the women, and the men’s stories and backgrounds were far more dynamic. Such stereotypical character writing led to a dangerous precedent of rooting for the strongest male to dominate, survive, and emerge victorious above all others.
Additionally, Season 1’s only LGBTQ representation involved attempted assault and Asian fetishization. That particular scene left a sour taste in my mouth for weeks after viewing. Thankfully, Season 2 recontextualizes and revitalizes the games with more deliberate and considerate diversity. Although played by a cis man, trans woman Hyun-ju dominates the games as an asset to every player. Even Hyun-ju’s motivation to join the games is refreshing; she wants to pay for her remaining gender-affirming surgeries.
While Hyun-ju’s presence does inspire transphobic remarks, the framing indicates that the audience is meant to disapprove of such intolerance. Plus, Hyun-ju even finds an ally in her most vocal hater: elderly Geum-ja, survivor of the Korean War and mother of another player. Our female representation doesn’t stop there, either. Season 2 brings a desperate, pregnant young woman (Jun-hee), a soft-spoken and encouraging friend (Young-mi), a bold girl with facial piercings (Se-mi), a shaman (Seon-nyeo), a fashion influencer (Mi-na) to compete on the island. Overall, these women get more speaking lines, character growth, and importance than Season 1 could ever have offered.
Most notably, this season also features a closer look at the masked guards. I enjoyed all the scenes spent with No-eul, another North Korean defector attempting to smuggle her lost daughter over the border. While the series sets her up as another player, the end of episode 2 reveals she’s enlisted instead as a soldier. Her disrespect for authority and corruption also makes me wonder if she’ll join our heroes’ rebellion in the next season.
I’m thrilled to say, then, that I’m looking forward to Season 3. I went into Season 2 expecting disappointment, yet emerged itching for the final episodes to drop—which they will, sometime this year. But that’s what this season accomplished so incredibly! It increased the suspense and satiated my need for more complex social commentary and character dynamics.
This includes my utter fascination with In-ho, AKA the Front Man. While he allows Gi-hun, a veteran player, to return to the games, the Front Man shakes things up by casting himself as Player 001. His long con pays off in a viciously satisfying way in the finale when he fakes In-ho’s death and punishes Gi-hun for his heroics. Gi-hun thinks he’s special, a savior; the Front Man is here to remind him that he is not. A tragic ending, yes, but not one without hope. Because the further the hero falls, the more spectacular it is when they rise.
Season 3 is expected to push the envelope and expand the scope. After-credits sneak-peeks reveal more players in a separate arena. Detective Jun-ho’s experiences with a murderous sailboat captain increase intrigue about just how deeply this death game network runs. Personally, I viewed this as inspiring, since it means there are more people to bolster Gi-hun’s armed rebellion against the establishment.
So, here’s to at least another month of shelf life for Squid Game Season 2. As a late but now fully committed fan, I can’t wait for the series to take the world by storm again in 2025.
