![]() From the way the set pieces are laid out, the framing of certain (spectacular) shots, and the music cues, there is a morbid whimsy purposefully injected into the show. I think there’s a certain appeal in watching something that is so meticulously drawn. Watching the nine episodes is an intense experience. More than one person has described the show to me as “fun,” which is absolutely wild. ![]() Someone convinced me to traumatize myself with this show, so now I’m going to pass that on, until we’re all collectively disturbed together. And then clicked play on the next one.) That’s intoxicating, even if it is rooted in such darkness, and people want to share that high.Ī more sinister extension of that is payback. (The cliffhanger-happy series once ended an episode in the middle of such a tense moment that I impulsively yelled, “Fuck you!” at the TV. There’s a certain thrill to being as shocked and as horrified as the characters in each episode of the series. (Squid Game, for example, is a variation on tag.) But the contestants soon learn-to their horror and the reason I may never sleep soundly again-that “being eliminated” means being killed.Īnecdotally, I’ve noticed different reasons that people have become Squid Game evangelists. At first, these seem like childhood games, like Red Light, Green Light. Once they sign a strangely sparse contract, it is explained to them that if they make it through six games without being eliminated, they will win 45.6 billion won, or what amounts to $38.7 million. ![]() He arrives at a secret venue to find 455 other contestants-he is number 456-all in similarly dire straits, confused about what they’ve gotten into but tantalized at the prospect of a cash prize. (Good luck to all of us the first time we hear “red light” again.) But here’s a brief primer: The series, which can be watched on Netflix in Korean with English subtitles or dubbed in English, comes from South Korean director and writer Hwang Dong-hyuk.Ī down-on-his-luck gambler with a mountain of debt, Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae), is recruited by a mystery man to participate in an ambiguous game that he promises will allow Gi-hun to settle his finances and start his life over. Or, um, the intensity of their waking nightmares after watching. The less a person knows about Squid Game, the better for their enjoyment. So here we have this interesting dichotomy: Squid Game may be the most upsetting series I’ve ever seen, and it also may be the most globally popular series in modern times. The streamer is on record saying it is on track to be its most-watched series ever. 1 show on Netflix in 90 different countries. Proving both how clever and exquisitely cinematic the series is, but also maybe how desperate people are not to be left out, Squid Game is currently the No. Especially in this last week, that peculiar title-what the hell could a “Squid Game” possibly be?!-has been everywhere, spreading its tentacles, so to speak, to news headlines, social media feeds, and group texts, where friends and family debate each episode’s twists and commiserate over the trauma. A metaphorical stabbing.įew series in the age of streaming have ever become word-of-mouth phenomena at the scale and speed with which the South Korean thriller has since its Sept. It’s the show’s own brutal gameplay with the audience. The violence, the psychological warfare, the haunting real-world feasibility of something seemingly so outrageous: it pierces you, but then it stays there. When I talk about how disturbed I was by Netflix’s hit series Squid Game, it’s not in the way that, at brunch with friends, someone might exclaim, “Oh my God, you guys, this show totally creeped me out,” for dramatic effect and attention. I wonder if I’ll ever stop thinking about it? I sort of shielded my eyes, but also couldn’t look away. Over the next minute, I reflexively started to lean back into my couch, as if my body was trying to run away from the TV, and began to make this weird combination gasp-yelp sound. It was a little over 40 minutes into the first episode of Squid Game when my eyebrow arched in confusion, I squinted closer at the TV, and, without realizing it, stopped breathing. ![]()
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