Squid Game season 3 picks up in the immediate aftermath of season 2’s bloody, but failed rebellion. Player 456 Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) is forced back into the competition as his archenemy Hwang In-ho a.k.a. The Front Man (Lee Byung-hun) correctly surmises that living is a much more painful punishment than dying. Astute viewers will clock that there are at least three more deadly children’s games to endure and indeed three immensely creative, cruel matches are sprinkled throughout these final six episodes – culminating in a climactic game that notably improves upon season 1’s confusing concluding duel.
Through it all, the cast of this edition of Squid Game continues to shine. Several villains and rogues step up in the absence of season 2 breakout Player 230 “Thanos” (T.O.P.), in some cases even bolstered by his necklace full of drugs. Player 222 Kim Jun-hee (Jo Yu-ri) takes on an elevated role as the doomsday clock that is her very pregnant belly inches closer to midnight. Player 120 Cho Hyun-ju (Park Sung-hoon) once again proves worthy of her status as a fan favorite.
The most useful tool in Squid Game season 3’s ensemble, however, is its lead. Lee Jung-jae’s performance as Seong Gi-hun in Squid Game season 1 was remarkable precisely because of how unremarkable it was…right down to the character’s afterthought of a number. Player 456 won the 33rd edition of the games not through athleticism or shrewd gamesmanship but rather through childlike innocence and dumb luck. This time around, however, he operates with a ruthless efficiency that causes his peers to view him as something between a Terminator and a Baba Yaga. Combined with his uncompromising and well-earned moral code, Mr. Seong establishes himself as one of the more interesting heroes of the streaming era.
By the commandment of Netflix’s spoiler embargo and just plain old good manners, we’ve been deliberately vague about specific season 3 plot points thus far and will continue to do so. Suffice it to say that anyone invested enough in the story could probably accurately compose a rough outline of these final six episodes themselves. That is not to criticize the series’ writing. In fact, it’s to praise it. Hwang, who again writes and directs all episodes this season, has a tremendous sense of dramatic inevitability. Events occur throughout season 3 because they simply have to happen this way.
It’s not a novel observation that Squid Game, the series, frequently operates like Squid Game, the games, but it still bears repeating. Players and audiences alike are promised a series of deadly, yet ultimately equitable games and they receive exactly that. At the same time, the game’s conductors – Hwangs In-ho and Dong-hyuk – understand that the VIPs must be entertained, whether those VIPs be rich douchebags wearing animal masks or working class schlubs using their mom’s Netflix password.
At one point in season 3, the Front Man assures his guests that the next game will take place despite the remaining players’ seeming squishiness to continue. How does he know that they won’t vote “X” this time around? To borrow a phrase from another veteran: he’s played these games before. He understands that any population of people can be prodded into a desired outcome from bad actors. At the end of the day, folks can’t help but look for their happy ending, despite all the mounting evidence that it will never arrive.
