1x02 Hell

[7.6/10] “Hell” is not as full of thrills as “Red Light, Green Light” was, but it’s also a necessary episode, one that deepens the characters and the themes of the show in a way I wasn’t necessarily expecting. I’ll confess, once Gi-hun and company made it onto the island, I didn’t expect any of them to come back. This seemed like an irrevocable kind of choice, one where the opaque conditions and not fully-conveyed perils are part of the point of the show’s message.

But man, allowing the assembled players of the game the opportunity to collectively tap out and eventually rejoin kicks things up a notch. It’s one thing to hoodwink people into participating in gladiatorial combat without fully disclosing what they’re signing up for. It’s another thing to show them half of their compatriots being indiscriminately mowed down by a chilling, giant doll, giving them an out, and having them willingly choose to endure more of such “games” in the hopes of wiping away their financial troubles.

The willingness of so many of these characters to subject themselves to this mortal danger in the name of a lack of other options is an indictment on the real world they return to. It’s one thing to frame the story in such a way that desperate people take on unfortunate risks that lead to their doom. It’s quite another to have them willingly choose that doom, replete with its candy-colored death squads and stringent, arbitrary rules, because the real world’s perils are less colorful, but even more grim and hopeless. The choice to send our would-be heroes home to see how much worse the real world is than this pastel nightmare, is the smartest in the show so far.

The visit back to the mainland also gives Squid Game the opportunity to deepen Gi-Hun and some of the side characters a bit. Gi-hun is still something of a shit, having not noticed his mother’s pain, being a jerk to people unable to help him, and treating the people who are willing to lend him some money even worse. Nonetheless, he’s at least a little sympathetic here, particularly when he’s willing to debase himself in front of his ex in the name of helping his sick mother.

Again, the fact that he must stoop to playing the game because things like insurance and medication for a poor old woman are otherwise unaffordable is a devastating criticism of the state of things. And the fact that he punches his ex’s new husband is both a sign of his immaturity, which doesn’t exactly make him endearing, but also a sign that there’s things in this world that matter to him more than money, which makes him sympathetic, especially when the daughter he’s desperate to hold onto sees him at his worst once again.

But I’m more interested in getting to see the other characters’ backstories and relationships. The Pickpocket is, in fact, a refugee from North Korea, who’s trying to look after her little brother here, and whose savings were stolen by shady brokers who made false promises about being able to retrieve her parents from the autocratic regime. Ali, the man who saved Gi-hun during “Red Light, Green Light” appears to be an immigrant whose wife is pregnant and whose boss hasn’t paid him or those like him in months, with nowhere for him to turn. These are not rough-edged people who let their worst impulses get the best of them; they are powerless people who’ve been exploited by those with money, status, or both, and it makes them easy to cheer for in the game, and pity outside of it.

On the other side of things, we see Gi-hun’s acquaintance Sang-woo, an ostensibly well-heeled business man who bet his own mother’s home and shop on failed investments that went terribly wrong. He’s deeper in debt than even the Squid Game folks know, and the difference between his outwardly successful appearance, and the depths to which he stooped, is striking, even as he shows some kindness and compassion to Ali. Worse still, we see the mob captain running from his bosses, having blown his “earnings” at the casino and diving away from his pursuers to hold onto his life.

Everyone is desperate in one form or another, everyone is so out of options that putting their lives on the lines in a kafkaesque game is preferable to trying to hack it in the real world. The show signposts that idea a little too heavily in dialogue for my tastes, but it also delivers the message in more visceral and gut-wrenching ways. The closing sequence is well-done but tough to watch, as we see these people from different walks of life, with different problems that led them to this point, all led to the same place, willingly returning to the game, because what’s waiting for them here is even worse.