'Squid Game Season 3' review: Netflix's once-thrilling smash limps to an unsatisfying finish
When Squid Game exploded onto Netflix screens in 2021, it felt like a fresh, brutal awakening—a chilling mirror held up to the darkest corners of capitalism, human desperation, and survival. Its high-stakes games, razor-sharp social commentary, and unforgettable characters gripped viewers worldwide. But as the saga unfolds into its third and final season, that initial spark feels dimmed, replaced by a slow, heavy gloom that struggles to justify the journey back to the island.
'Squid Game.'
No Ju-han/Netflix
The story picks up moments after the violent uprising that shook the foundations of the Squid Game world at the end of Season 2. The island’s once-hidden cruelty now bleeds into a brutal new chapter where Gi-hun and the remaining contestants face even deadlier challenges. Yet, despite the high stakes and familiar pulse-pounding games—hide-and-seek, jump rope, and the chilling new “Sky Squid Game” atop dizzying pillars—the thrill has evaporated.
Gi-hun, once a beacon of resilience and flawed humanity, returns a ghost of his former self. His grief and guilt weigh him down, stripping away the charm and relatability that once made audiences root for him. The contestants around him are shadows, little more than pieces on a twisted chessboard, with their stories and emotions left largely unexplored. Characters like Hyun-ju, the trans soldier, and Jun-hee, the expectant mother, flash briefly on screen, but never fully emerge from the background, their potential buried beneath a mountain of plot.
At its core, Squid Game Season 3 doubles down on its critique of modern society, highlighting the hollow façade of democracy in a world ruled by ruthless elites. The contestants’ “free votes” to continue or stop the games serve as a bitter metaphor for manipulated choice, where majority decisions cloak individual suffering. One unforgettable moment comes when a player apologizes as the group votes him to death: “Please forgive me, but we’re going to need you to die.” It’s a gut-wrenching glimpse at how survival distorts morality.
Yet, while these themes echo with precision, the emotional resonance is lost. The raw empathy that balanced the original season’s horror has faded, replaced by relentless misery and cruelty that too often feels gratuitous. The show’s once-brilliant mix of suspense and human connection is replaced by lumbering pacing and repetitious suffering.
Side stories—from No-eul’s desperate efforts to save a friend to ex-cop Jun-ho’s prolonged search for the island—drag on without delivering new insights or emotional weight. The VIPs, those decadent puppet masters of the games, return with their usual detached menace, but their stilted performances fail to recapture the eerie charisma that once made them compelling.
As the season crawls toward its conclusion, the question isn’t how it ends but why it was extended at all. The final twist shocks, yes, but it feels less like a satisfying payoff and more like a tease for further spinoffs—an unnecessary epilogue to a story that might have been better left closed.
In the end, Squid Game Season 3 offers relief more than triumph. It’s a stark reminder that some stories burn brightest when they burn fast. For Gi-hun, and for us, perhaps the wisest choice is to leave that cursed island behind once and for all.
