For Squid Game creator Hwang Dong-hyuk, making the K-drama’s mega-hit debut season was like pulling teeth. Literally. The stress of single-handedly writing and directing the global phenomenon caused him to lose six gnashers.
With the feverishly awaited follow-up about to drop, how is his dental health this time? “I haven’t lost any teeth yet, look!” laughs Hwang over video call from Seoul, baring a full set to prove it. “Although I do feel the odd toothache, so I might visit the dentist soon. Maybe one or two will come out this time.”
Squid Game was an overnight sensation more than a decade in the making. Hwang began work on the dystopian survival thriller in 2009, originally as a movie script, when he was skint and in deep debt himself – just like the participants in his deadly games. After 12 years in development, it took just 12 days to become Netflix’s biggest ever show.
On its release in September 2021, the series took the planet by storm, overtaking Stranger Things and Bridgerton as the most-watched programme in the platform’s history. Squid Game was seen by an estimated 142m households in its first month, boosting the streamer’s subscriber numbers by 4.4 million. It proved so popular that one South Korean broadband provider sued Netflix over the massive surge in traffic caused by binge-watching.
“I had high hopes for it but was shocked by the scale of the success,” reflects the 53-year-old Hwang. “It just exploded. I experienced a wild mixture of emotions. I needed some time to process it, actually. To take it all in and make it my own.”
For actor Lee Jung-jae, who plays protagonist Seong Gi-hun (AKA Player 456), it didn’t compute until he travelled abroad. “When I saw that the show was No 1 in 94 countries, I couldn’t quite comprehend it. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect that. It was only when I went to Cannes film festival months later that it sunk in. Suddenly everyone on the street seemed to know me and want a selfie.”
The word-of-mouth smash saw 456 downtrodden, debt-ridden contestants shipped to a secret island to participate in a lethal real-life gameshow, all for the amusement of an elite cabal. Under the supervision of armed, masked guards, they were made to play playground games for the chance to win a life-changing 45.6bn won (around £28m). Those who lost went home in body bags.
The resulting edge-of-the-sofa tension transcended national boundaries. As Squid Game’s tentacles spread worldwide, it inspired endless memes, merch, spoofs and Halloween costumes. A reality spin-off helped tide fans over – last year’s Squid Game: The Challenge, in which plucky punters donned the trademark green tracksuits to compete for $4.56m (£3.6m), the biggest cash prize in TV history (shock deaths not included) – but now the sequel is finally ready to be unleashed. Let the games begin. Again.
Hwang made history in becoming the first Asian to win an Emmy for outstanding directing for a drama series. Did he feel under pressure to avoid second season syndrome? “It’s inevitable,” he shrugs. “For the past three years, people have constantly asked if I can do even better. It would be a lie to pretend I don’t feel pressure but I tried not to dwell on it and it didn’t influence me creatively. Even if season one hadn’t done so well, I’d still be trying to better it, just for my own personal pride. All I can do is stay loyal to the story I want to tell. Put it this way: I think I’ve created something that’s not going to bring shame on the first season.” He promises “greater scale” and “a deeper story”.
Three years after winning Squid Game and vowing vengeance, Player 456 remains determined to hunt down the people behind the cruel sport and put an end to it for good. Using his prize money to fund his search, Gi-hun’s efforts eventually yield results. However, taking down the shadowy organisation proves riskier than he imagined.
“He’s hardened, battle-scarred and hellbent on stopping the game,” explains Lee. “But in order to track down the hosts, he must re-enter the arena. How many rounds can he survive this time? To achieve their shared mission, he joins forces with Jun-ho [the young detective, played by Wi Ha-joon, who infiltrated the game to find his missing brother]. You’re going to see a lot of action, a lot of fighting, a lot of twists and turns. It’s quite a ride.”
With more than 450 new characters to potentially kill off, is it equally gory? “I saw so much fake blood in season one, I’ve kind of become immune to it,” chuckles Lee. “Hard to say. Both seasons are very bloody!” “There is more blood this time,” confirms Hwang. “That I can promise. But there are comical moments too.”
One early rug-pull sees Gi-hun confront the Recruiter (Gong Yoo), the sharp-suited salesman who lures in people by playing paper game ddakji in the subway. Expect gasps worldwide. “I’m curious and excited to see the reaction,” smiles Hwang.
Known for his heroic heartthrob roles, model turned actor Lee was cast against type as the divorced, down-on-his-luck gambling addict who lived with his elderly mother. Hwang gleefully said he “wanted to destroy the charismatic image” of his leading man in “a story about losers”. Well, it worked. Lee won an Emmy too. This summer, he joined the Star Wars universe in Disney+ prequel drama The Acolyte.
“Without Squid Game, I would never have had the chance to become a Jedi,” he says. “That was a very special experience for me. Squid Game changed my life. My nickname is JJ but I should probably change it to 456 because so many people know me as that number now.” How was swapping Jedi master’s robes for the infamous green tracksuit again? “It felt weird putting it back on,” he says. “I felt like I was being transported back to this ugly world. I was horrified, actually.”
The brutality of capitalism is laid bare in this macabre allegory of class warfare. The first season alerted international audiences to the grim extent of South Korea’s personal debt crisis. The country’s household debts were the worst in Asia, equivalent to 100% of GDP.
Three years on, Squid Game’s themes of economic inequality and financial hardship still chime. “I look at the world and things have got much worse,” sighs Hwang. “Not just in Korea but globally. The wealth gap is widening. There is war and conflict in many corners of the world. It’s painful to say that Squid Game has become even more relevant.” Lee agrees: “We live on opposite sides of the globe but share the same zeitgeist. It’s sad that the themes still resonate so strongly.”
Some critics complained that the spin-off Squid Game: The Challenge undermined the drama’s barbed social commentary by playing it straight and turning it into actual TV entertainment. “The fact that Squid Game became reality with actual participants competing for a cash prize, that in itself is satire,” says Hwang. “We had a game where Gi-hun almost absurdly licks the back of the dalgona [a honeycomb disc]. To reproduce that with real people, literally doing the same thing to win money – I think the meaning pretty much stays the same.” Lee wryly adds that he now gets offered dalgona “all the time, wherever I go”.
Were there enough childhood games upon which to put a fiendish spin this time? “While writing season one, I made this very long list of all of the different kids’ games I thought would be a good fit, then chose the ones I felt would work best on screen,” says Hwang. “For season two, I went back to that list and used some that hadn’t made it. The games are better this time round, I think. Even more fun and intriguing.”
With its primary colours and Escheresque staircases, the debut series was visually stunning. Standout sets in the new run include a vast rainbow-striped sandpit used for what Hwang admits was “the most challenging sequence I’ve ever filmed”. The series also introduces an equally sinister “boyfriend” for Young-hee, the giant mechanised doll that mowed down anyone who moved with a machine gun. “His name is Cheol-su,” grins Hwang. “He looks friendly to me. Then again, so did Young-hee. I kept wondering why people found her scary. She looked so cute!”
He cheerfully admits painting himself into a corner by killing off much-loved characters, never thinking he’d get a second season. “I regret it all the time!” he says. “I miss Sae-byeok [the pickpocketing North Korean defector, played by Jung Ho-yeon] and Sang-woo [Gi-hun’s childhood friend, played by Park Hae-soo] the most. I hold those two very dear to my heart, so I felt their absence acutely. Sometimes I’d joke about writing Sae-byeok a twin sister and have her appear again. That’s how much I missed her.”
Despite his improved dental health, Hwang describes production on season two as “hell” – not least because it was made alongside a third season. “It was even more challenging this time,” he said. “I had to write two seasons together, then shoot them back to back. It was a much longer, tougher process. I just poured everything into it.” The third and final season is slated to hit our screens in 2025. There are also rumours of director David Fincher working on a US remake.
In the meantime, there’s season two to unwrap on Boxing Day. With its life-or-death tension and unflinching violence, Squid Game isn’t traditional cosy festive viewing. “It’s a little bit dark and heavy, for sure, but it’s also wildly entertaining,” says Lee. “And our message is ultimately optimistic. So I hope it dropping just after Christmas was a good choice by Netflix.” Merry Squidmas, everyone.
Squid Game returns to Netflix on Boxing Day.
