New players gather for a chance to win 45.6 billion won. After an intense first round, the survivors' fates hang in the balance - down to one final vote.New players gather for a chance to win 45.6 billion won. After an intense first round, the survivors' fates hang in the balance - down to one final vote.New players gather for a chance to win 45.6 billion won. After an intense first round, the survivors' fates hang in the balance - down to one final vote.
Jo Yuri
- Kim Jun-hee
- (as Jo Yu-ri)
Featured reviews
The third episode of Squid Game Season 2, titled "001," directed and created by Hwang Dong-hyuk, revitalizes the franchise's grim examination of human desperation, power dynamics, and systemic exploitation while introducing fresh characters and conflicts that expand on the original's themes with a renewed intensity and psychological complexity.
The episode opens with the players awakening on the island, clad once again in the familiar green jumpsuits, marked by their respective numbers, including the returning protagonist Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) as Player 456. The storyline immediately grounds the audience in the oppressive and surreal atmosphere of the games' setting, a brutal yet visually striking environment that juxtaposes pastel hues with the stark reality of death and debt. This visual language, consistent with the series' aesthetic legacy, continues to reinforce the disturbing innocence twisted by the deadly stakes.
A new variety of characters populate this season, demonstrated vividly through the introduction of several key players such as the indebted YouTuber Myung-gi (Player 333), a purple-haired rapper named Thanos (Player 230), a pregnant woman Kim Jun-hee (Player 222), and the mother-son duo of Jang Geum-ja (Player 149) and Park Yong-sik (Player 007). Each character is sketched with economic yet effective backstory elements that highlight a diversity of desperation and motivations, ranging from debt and betrayal to fear and survival instincts. The conflicts that arise among the players-particularly with Myung-gi's controversial presence stemming from his cryptocurrency scam-introduce simmering hostilities that deepen the social intrigue of the episode.
One of the episode's early dramatic moments involves the brutal and chaotic Red Light, Green Light game, which eliminates a staggering number of players and instantly sets a tone of relentless peril. The tension in this sequence is palpable; the episode recalls the original season's iconic moment but uplifts it through improved choreography, more nuanced character reactions, and heightened emotional stakes. The presence of a pregnant player adds an additional layer of vulnerability and moral conflict, underscoring the cruel calculus that governs the games.
Gi-hun emerges as a leader among the players, his experience from the previous season lending him a haunted wisdom that balances cautious pragmatism with reluctant hope. Early in the episode, his attempts to advocate for a halt to the deadly contest draw both support and skepticism. A critical turning point comes during the players' vote to continue or end the game. Democracy itself becomes weaponized-players are enticed to vote in favor of the game's continuation through the lure of increased prize money, demonstrating the corrupting power of economic incentives. The tension builds impressively here, climaxing in a suspenseful reveal: Player 001 votes to proceed, and the camera captures this figure conspicuously-the Front Man himself, Hwang In-ho (Heo Sung-tae), concealed as a player and shaping the competition from within. This twist brilliantly reincarnates the surprise from Season 1, complicating the power dynamics and setting the stage for deeper intrigue.
The episode's pacing is deliberate yet engaging, balancing large-scale tension with intimate character moments and subtle foreshadowing. The cinematography employs tight framing on faces etched with fear, calculation, and despair, contrasted with wide shots communicating the indivisibility yet vulnerability of the collective. The sound design expertly amplifies suspense, from the ominous mechanical cues of the games to the plaintive, almost haunting silence that punctuates moments of imminent violence.
Performances throughout are compelling. Lee Jung-jae grounds Gi-hun with a somber, determined intensity, his portrayal layered with the trauma and resolve accumulated over the previous season and his ongoing fight against the games' machinery. Supporting cast members bring palpable realism and emotional texture to their roles, especially Kang Ae-sim as Geum-ja and Kim Si-hyun as Jun-hee, whose pregnancy adds silent urgency to the narrative. The dynamics between characters oscillate between tentative alliances and potential betrayals, reflecting the show's persistent interrogation of trust and survival in ruthless systems.
Technically, the episode demonstrates accomplished direction and editing, with fluid transitions between suspenseful game sequences and quieter interpersonal drama. The choreography of the deadly game scenes is both thrilling and unsettling, emphasizing vulnerability and the fine line between life and death. The production design retains its starkly surreal quality, maintaining the series' unique visual language.
Critically, "001" succeeds in renewing Squid Game's central motifs-systemic inequality, desperation, betrayal, and fleeting camaraderie-while injecting enough fresh narrative maneuvers to prevent redundancy. However, some critiques may note thematic overlaps with the first season's early episodes, particularly in the setup of the initial game and the social dynamics of desperation. Yet, the episode's strong performances and the reveal of the Front Man's covert participation inject freshness and complexity into the plot, promising escalation and new layers of conflict.
Culturally and cinematically, the episode continues to dialogue with dystopian traditions and social critiques centered on capitalism's predations and spectacle culture. It echoes influences from works such as Battle Royale and The Hunger Games while maintaining a singularly Korean flavor, embedding itself within a global context of systemic critique. The title "001" itself carries symbolic weight, recalling the original series' entanglement with identity, authority, and the blurred lines between victim and perpetrator.
"001" stands as a powerful installment that reignites the narrative engine of Squid Game Season 2 with a blend of suspense, psychological depth, and social commentary. Through meticulous direction, strong ensemble performances, and narrative twists, the episode challenges viewers to grapple with the relentless human costs imposed by systems of inequality and spectacle. It preserves the haunting tension and moral complexity of its predecessor while charting a course toward a season promising further surprises and incisive reflection on survival and complicity. This episode is both a continuation and a transformation-respecting its roots while daring to unfold new narratives within the merciless arena of the Squid Games.
The episode opens with the players awakening on the island, clad once again in the familiar green jumpsuits, marked by their respective numbers, including the returning protagonist Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) as Player 456. The storyline immediately grounds the audience in the oppressive and surreal atmosphere of the games' setting, a brutal yet visually striking environment that juxtaposes pastel hues with the stark reality of death and debt. This visual language, consistent with the series' aesthetic legacy, continues to reinforce the disturbing innocence twisted by the deadly stakes.
A new variety of characters populate this season, demonstrated vividly through the introduction of several key players such as the indebted YouTuber Myung-gi (Player 333), a purple-haired rapper named Thanos (Player 230), a pregnant woman Kim Jun-hee (Player 222), and the mother-son duo of Jang Geum-ja (Player 149) and Park Yong-sik (Player 007). Each character is sketched with economic yet effective backstory elements that highlight a diversity of desperation and motivations, ranging from debt and betrayal to fear and survival instincts. The conflicts that arise among the players-particularly with Myung-gi's controversial presence stemming from his cryptocurrency scam-introduce simmering hostilities that deepen the social intrigue of the episode.
One of the episode's early dramatic moments involves the brutal and chaotic Red Light, Green Light game, which eliminates a staggering number of players and instantly sets a tone of relentless peril. The tension in this sequence is palpable; the episode recalls the original season's iconic moment but uplifts it through improved choreography, more nuanced character reactions, and heightened emotional stakes. The presence of a pregnant player adds an additional layer of vulnerability and moral conflict, underscoring the cruel calculus that governs the games.
Gi-hun emerges as a leader among the players, his experience from the previous season lending him a haunted wisdom that balances cautious pragmatism with reluctant hope. Early in the episode, his attempts to advocate for a halt to the deadly contest draw both support and skepticism. A critical turning point comes during the players' vote to continue or end the game. Democracy itself becomes weaponized-players are enticed to vote in favor of the game's continuation through the lure of increased prize money, demonstrating the corrupting power of economic incentives. The tension builds impressively here, climaxing in a suspenseful reveal: Player 001 votes to proceed, and the camera captures this figure conspicuously-the Front Man himself, Hwang In-ho (Heo Sung-tae), concealed as a player and shaping the competition from within. This twist brilliantly reincarnates the surprise from Season 1, complicating the power dynamics and setting the stage for deeper intrigue.
The episode's pacing is deliberate yet engaging, balancing large-scale tension with intimate character moments and subtle foreshadowing. The cinematography employs tight framing on faces etched with fear, calculation, and despair, contrasted with wide shots communicating the indivisibility yet vulnerability of the collective. The sound design expertly amplifies suspense, from the ominous mechanical cues of the games to the plaintive, almost haunting silence that punctuates moments of imminent violence.
Performances throughout are compelling. Lee Jung-jae grounds Gi-hun with a somber, determined intensity, his portrayal layered with the trauma and resolve accumulated over the previous season and his ongoing fight against the games' machinery. Supporting cast members bring palpable realism and emotional texture to their roles, especially Kang Ae-sim as Geum-ja and Kim Si-hyun as Jun-hee, whose pregnancy adds silent urgency to the narrative. The dynamics between characters oscillate between tentative alliances and potential betrayals, reflecting the show's persistent interrogation of trust and survival in ruthless systems.
Technically, the episode demonstrates accomplished direction and editing, with fluid transitions between suspenseful game sequences and quieter interpersonal drama. The choreography of the deadly game scenes is both thrilling and unsettling, emphasizing vulnerability and the fine line between life and death. The production design retains its starkly surreal quality, maintaining the series' unique visual language.
Critically, "001" succeeds in renewing Squid Game's central motifs-systemic inequality, desperation, betrayal, and fleeting camaraderie-while injecting enough fresh narrative maneuvers to prevent redundancy. However, some critiques may note thematic overlaps with the first season's early episodes, particularly in the setup of the initial game and the social dynamics of desperation. Yet, the episode's strong performances and the reveal of the Front Man's covert participation inject freshness and complexity into the plot, promising escalation and new layers of conflict.
Culturally and cinematically, the episode continues to dialogue with dystopian traditions and social critiques centered on capitalism's predations and spectacle culture. It echoes influences from works such as Battle Royale and The Hunger Games while maintaining a singularly Korean flavor, embedding itself within a global context of systemic critique. The title "001" itself carries symbolic weight, recalling the original series' entanglement with identity, authority, and the blurred lines between victim and perpetrator.
"001" stands as a powerful installment that reignites the narrative engine of Squid Game Season 2 with a blend of suspense, psychological depth, and social commentary. Through meticulous direction, strong ensemble performances, and narrative twists, the episode challenges viewers to grapple with the relentless human costs imposed by systems of inequality and spectacle. It preserves the haunting tension and moral complexity of its predecessor while charting a course toward a season promising further surprises and incisive reflection on survival and complicity. This episode is both a continuation and a transformation-respecting its roots while daring to unfold new narratives within the merciless arena of the Squid Games.
This episode was interesting but not for the reason you'd expect.
The games itself went as expected so nothing really changed from that perspective but what I will say changed was the aftermath of it. Even with how much Gi-Hun helped, he still ended up having people killed and to make matters worse, he failed to stop the games which was a different outcome to what happened in the first season. He tried to initiate change within the system but ended up only growing that sense of greed (that same greed that fuelled everyone's desire to participate).
It's an episode that showcases how people can be so addicted on trying to obtain their desires but at the risk of losing their humanity.
The games itself went as expected so nothing really changed from that perspective but what I will say changed was the aftermath of it. Even with how much Gi-Hun helped, he still ended up having people killed and to make matters worse, he failed to stop the games which was a different outcome to what happened in the first season. He tried to initiate change within the system but ended up only growing that sense of greed (that same greed that fuelled everyone's desire to participate).
It's an episode that showcases how people can be so addicted on trying to obtain their desires but at the risk of losing their humanity.
Episode 1 of Squid Game, "Red Light, Green Light," delivers a thrilling and unsettling introduction to the brutal competition at the heart of the series. The episode does an excellent job of establishing Gi-hun's struggles, making him a compelling protagonist that viewers can sympathize with. His financial desperation and personal failures set the stage for why he-and so many others-would agree to participate in such a mysterious and risky game.
The buildup to the first game is masterfully done, with eerie tension lingering in the air. Once Red Light, Green Light begins, the sudden shift from curiosity to absolute terror is shocking and unforgettable. The cinematography and sound design heighten the suspense, making the scene both horrifying and mesmerizing. The slow realization of what's at stake, combined with the desperate attempts to survive, creates one of the most memorable opening episodes in recent television history.
While the episode is mostly setup, and some moments take their time unfolding, the shocking climax ensures that viewers are fully invested in what comes next. It perfectly hooks the audience, setting the stage for the high-stakes drama ahead.
Verdict: A tense and gripping start that masterfully blends character development with shocking brutality, making for an unforgettable opening chapter.
The buildup to the first game is masterfully done, with eerie tension lingering in the air. Once Red Light, Green Light begins, the sudden shift from curiosity to absolute terror is shocking and unforgettable. The cinematography and sound design heighten the suspense, making the scene both horrifying and mesmerizing. The slow realization of what's at stake, combined with the desperate attempts to survive, creates one of the most memorable opening episodes in recent television history.
While the episode is mostly setup, and some moments take their time unfolding, the shocking climax ensures that viewers are fully invested in what comes next. It perfectly hooks the audience, setting the stage for the high-stakes drama ahead.
Verdict: A tense and gripping start that masterfully blends character development with shocking brutality, making for an unforgettable opening chapter.
I must clarify that this second season lacks the overall novelty of the first, which, obviously, works against it. However, even with that disadvantage, it has managed to maintain a certain level of quality in all aspects. Sure, there are some elements that feel forced in terms of the plot, and even a few scenes with Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) come across as overly dramatic. But everything continues to progress with the occasional surprise, like the ending of the previous episode where it's revealed that No-eul is not a participant but a host.
Well, the same thing happened at the end of this episode-it even made me immediately watch the next one. By the way, considering what repeatedly happens to humans in this game, I'm starting to think like the game's creators. So, Gi-hun will have to do something phenomenal to change my mind.
Well, the same thing happened at the end of this episode-it even made me immediately watch the next one. By the way, considering what repeatedly happens to humans in this game, I'm starting to think like the game's creators. So, Gi-hun will have to do something phenomenal to change my mind.
Did you know
- TriviaThe staircases from the games venue's main hall are reminiscent of the works of Dutch mathematical artist MC Escher.
- GoofsDuring 'Red Light - Green Light' the player with the number 293 gets shot, reappears a few minutes later and gets shot again.
- Quotes
Seong Gi-hoon: I've played these games before!
- SoundtracksFly Me to the Moon (In Other Words)
Written by Bart Howard
Performed by Joo Won Shin (uncredited)
Published by TRO - Palm Valley Music, LLC
Details
- Runtime
- 1h 1m(61 min)
- Color
- Sound mix
Contribute to this page
Suggest an edit or add missing content