My feet are numb. I’ve been trapped in an awkward squat for several minutes, lactic acid eating through my thighs. The 20ft-tall mechanical doll stares mercilessly, her dress orange, her head full of motion sensors, laser precise. At the edge of my vision, a competitor falls with a scream. I’m wondering how it feels for a squib-rigged vest to explode on your chest. I’d seen Red Light, Green Light (a twisted version of Grandmother’s Footsteps) in the Korean TV phenomenon Squid Game. I had no idea the real-life version would be so painful.
Yesterday, hundreds of competitors in this freezing aircraft hangar held poses for nearly 30 minutes at a time. I hear that some, against all advice, dived dangerously over the finish line. Variety reported that many collapsed on set, requiring medical attention. The day after I brave these conditions, the Sun’s front page will read “Squid Game Horror in the UK!” The drama has turned real in more ways than one.
