Squid Game Season 3 is proper scream-at-your-screen television; emotionally gruelling, harrowingly violent, and unpredictable right to its bold (and brilliant) end.
Sometimes, you have to question if something really deserved to become a phenomenon. Stranger Things is wonderful, but it weaponizes the second-hand vibe and iconography of an entire era; Wednesday is perfectly fine, but its exposure via TikTok and (again) nostalgia played a big part in its popularity; and all you need to explain Dahmer’s one-billion-hour haul is the “Yes! Haha!” sickos meme.
Squid Game evades that ambivalence. Its influences are clear (Battle Royale, Takeshi’s Castle, Liar Game), but it’s always felt genuinely novel – and, in the simplest terms, its enormous, unprecedented popularity is a testament to how good it is.
Season 1 was phenomenal. Season 2 was better. Season 3, rather extraordinarily, is the best. Let the games begin.
What is Squid Game Season 3 about?
Gi-hun’s coup against the Front Man failed. 35 players died (including his best friend, Jung-bae), as well as several guards, but the games continue in Season 3 – and Gi-hun is forced to keep competing. “Why have you kept me alive?” he screams, but he doesn’t get an answer, left to bear witness to (and participate in) more cruelty and bloodshed.
Elsewhere, Kang No-eul hatches a plan to right her many wrongs working as a guard, while Hwang Jun-ho continues to explore misty waters in search of the island and his brother (the Front Man, in case you forgot), unaware that there’s a traitor onboard: Captain Park, the fisherman in cahoots with the gamemakers.
Hwang Dong-hyuk, the show’s creator, has expressed anxiety about how the show ends. Not everyone will be satisfied; it can be oppressively nasty and upsetting, the trajectory of some characters will be hard to accept, and its finale isn’t entirely conclusive.
But, to borrow Ramsay Bolton’s words, “if you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying attention.”
Squid Game gets more brutal than ever before
Season 2 reached the peak (and zenith) of the show’s games with Mingle, but the third season takes things even further. No spoilers, but there are three new games – one of which is named Jump Rope, a palm-sweatingly horrible and tense exercise in balance and stamina that’s somehow the kindest of the new challenges.
Hwang has an incredible talent for finding horrible ways to illustrate not only the depths of man’s inhumanity to man, but also the inherent kindness that exists in us all until it’s corrupted. This divide is at the core of Gi-hun and the Front Man’s dynamic; if push comes to shove, who would you save – yourself or your fellow man?
The staging of the games is awesome; these are truly some of the most immersively stressful set-pieces on TV, and Hwang’s direction perfectly pivots between the larger-than-life, terrifying spectacle and the courage and depravity of the players. Whatever he does next, I will be watching.
When you watch Jump Rope, the show wants you to go along the pipeline; “I could do that”, “Hmm, maybe not”, and “Oh sh*t”. The other two… not so much, for reasons that can’t be stated outright – but they are punishing games that thrive on the fear of worst-case scenarios.
There is one criticism regarding the use of extremely specific VFX… but it’s too much of a spoiler. For the most part, the show employs physical effects and makes everything feel as tangible as possible. The music, composed by Jung Jae-il, expertly navigates the suspense, heartbreak, and (brief) triumphs of the final chapter’s events, ratcheting up the tension or leaning hard on your tearducts.
Everyone gets a good ending in Season 3
In Squid Game, everyone is expendable. So, I’ll just say this: while there are several deaths that are incredibly painful to watch, everyone gets a chance to shine in the third season, and their endings are befitting – even if you’d rather an alternative.
Park Sung-hoon’s Ch-hyun-ju is one of the show’s MVPs, while Yang Dong-geun (007), YJo Yu-ri (222), Lee David (125), and Park Gyu-young (Kang No-eul) deliver strong, poignant work. There is a standout: Im Si-wan’s Lee Myung-gi, who comes to the fore in an unexpected way, tiptoeing along the line of villain and ally as the games progress; one scene with Seong Gi-hun (who’s as terrific as ever) is one of the best in the entire series.
Lee Byung-hun is especially good as the Front Man; a charismatic, frightening enigma. Sometimes, it feels like a star was born to play a role – this is one of those times. The amount of emotion he conveys with an almost-blank expression is extraordinary.
Squid Game Season 3 review score: 5/5
After Season 3, it’s clear that Squid Game is the best TV show Netflix has ever produced: a barrier-breaking feat of universal, ruthless storytelling that may never be matched. The games may be over, but its legacy will (hopefully) live on.
Season 3 is streaming now. In the meantime, check out our breakdown of every Squid Game challenge ranked by difficulty, the secret meaning of the show’s shapes, and our list of the best TV shows of all time.
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