26
37
4
2
2
4
5
4
7
1
3
3
1
2
1
3
1
2
1
1
1
3
10
2
5
This review may contain spoilers
A FINALE AS HOLLOW AS THE VIPs’ ACTING SKILLS
**Disclaimer: This final review reflects my personal opinion after a second viewing.**
Alright, I just tore through Squid Game Season 3, twice, and holy hell, it’s a wild, messy ride that had me hooked but also pissed off at times. This season claws its way back to Season 1’s brutal magic in the first half, betrayals that made me want to throw my remote, and characters I couldn’t stop obsessing over. But many parts straight-up fumbled, and I’m not here to pretend they didn’t.
Gi-hun’s still the heart of this thing, and his relentless fight to burn the game down had me rooting for him, even when it felt like he was slamming his head against a wall. Myung-gi, though? Man, he drove me nuts. No-eul was a badass, though. Her rogue mission and that insane office showdown? I was screaming when she saved Kyung-suk, finally showing her true grit. Jun-ho’s arc got some redemption after Season 2’s aimless mess, but it still felt like he was just flailing against untouchable billionaires. And the Frontman? Dude’s a snake, but a compelling one. His mix of sincerity and backstabbing kept me glued, even if I don’t trust him for a second.
The games hit like a truck: bloody, chaotic, and packed with Season 1 vibes like the marble game and hopscotch. The betrayals stung hard, especially when allies turned on each other like it was nothing. But to be honest, some deaths, like Jun-hee’s, barely made me blink compared to Hyun-ju’s or Geum-ja’s. It made Gi-hun and Myung-gi’s survival feel too predictable, like the writers were scared to go all-in.
The big problem? This season swings for the fences with Gi-hun, Jun-ho, and Woo-seok trying to topple this shadowy corporation, but it’s a lost cause from the jump. Season 1 worked because it was raw: survive, win, get out. Done. This dystopian Hunger Games wannabe vibe is cool in theory, but it’s too big for its own good. The whole “greed always wins” message? Yeah, I get it, but it left me hollow, like the show was just shrugging at its own stakes. And don’t get me started on the VIPs’ acting... cartoonish and stiff, it yanked me out of the story every time they opened their mouths.
It’s a bloody, thrilling mess that recaptures some of the old spark, but it trips over its own ambition and leaves you wishing for a tighter punch.
WHAT I DISLIKED:
• VIPs remain the weakest part of this show. Their acting is wooden, and their presence is cartoonish in a story that otherwise demands gravity.
• Characters like Players 203, 039, and 100, who made it so far in the games, are vivid but lack depth. Their archetypes were one-dimensional.
• While the death-game format still delivers high-stakes tension, I did feel the interpersonal dynamics falter this time. With fewer players remaining, that complex web of social and strategic interplay, the thing that gave previous seasons their gripping unpredictability, is significantly reduced.
• Jun-ho and Woo-seok’s investigation felt like an afterthought. Key moments, like Jun-ho harpooning Captain Park or Woo-seok’s jail stint, were rushed and poorly integrated with the island’s narrative, diluting their impact and making the outside world feel like a side note.
• The season continues the voting mechanic from last time and still aims to reflect modern ideological divides, but honestly, the metaphor feels dulled now. The outcomes were predictable, and the tension that once surrounded each vote has faded.
• The middle of the season sagged under the weight of repetitive character conflicts. Moments of quiet character development, like Geum-ja’s confession to Gi-hun, were often overshadowed by drawn-out brutality, disrupting the narrative flow.
• Unlike Season 1’s rich player dynamics, Season 3’s survivors rarely formed meaningful connections. The “Bathroom Team” (Hyun-ju, Geum-ja, Jun-hee) was a brief exception, but most interactions were transactional or hostile, making it harder to care about the group’s fate.
• The final scene introducing a new recruiter in LA came off as a blatant setup for a spin-off or sequel season. It felt tacked-on and cheap, undermining the emotional closure of the island’s destruction and Gi-hun’s sacrifice.
WHAT I LIKED:
• Gi-hun’s arc is the beating heart of the season. Watching him evolve from a broken, mute shell to a man who finds purpose in protecting Jun-hee’s baby is profoundly moving. His refusal to take the Front Man’s deal made me emotional. It’s a testament to his unshakable humanity, even when the world around him collapses into chaos.
• Jang Geum-ja completely wrecked me in a midseason scene that was both haunting and transcendent. Her dynamic with her son, Yong-sik, became one of the emotional cores of the season. I also appreciated how characters like Jun-hee and Hyun-ju gained complexity and rose to the top, offering some of the best scenes of the season and stepping up when Gi-hun has lost all hope.
• No-eul’s rogue mission is a standout. Her transformation from a conflicted pink soldier to a vigilante fighting for redemption is thrilling and emotionally complex. The office showdown had me cheering. Her choice to live, inspired by Gi-hun’s sacrifice, gave me hope that even the most broken can find purpose.
• Jung Jae-il’s score continues to haunt me, and the surreal, almost nightmarish production design makes even familiar game settings feel disorienting.
• Sae-byeok’s family reunion, No-eul’s flight to her child, and Jun-ho’s custody of the baby in the epilogue felt hopeful.
Alright, I just tore through Squid Game Season 3, twice, and holy hell, it’s a wild, messy ride that had me hooked but also pissed off at times. This season claws its way back to Season 1’s brutal magic in the first half, betrayals that made me want to throw my remote, and characters I couldn’t stop obsessing over. But many parts straight-up fumbled, and I’m not here to pretend they didn’t.
Gi-hun’s still the heart of this thing, and his relentless fight to burn the game down had me rooting for him, even when it felt like he was slamming his head against a wall. Myung-gi, though? Man, he drove me nuts. No-eul was a badass, though. Her rogue mission and that insane office showdown? I was screaming when she saved Kyung-suk, finally showing her true grit. Jun-ho’s arc got some redemption after Season 2’s aimless mess, but it still felt like he was just flailing against untouchable billionaires. And the Frontman? Dude’s a snake, but a compelling one. His mix of sincerity and backstabbing kept me glued, even if I don’t trust him for a second.
The games hit like a truck: bloody, chaotic, and packed with Season 1 vibes like the marble game and hopscotch. The betrayals stung hard, especially when allies turned on each other like it was nothing. But to be honest, some deaths, like Jun-hee’s, barely made me blink compared to Hyun-ju’s or Geum-ja’s. It made Gi-hun and Myung-gi’s survival feel too predictable, like the writers were scared to go all-in.
The big problem? This season swings for the fences with Gi-hun, Jun-ho, and Woo-seok trying to topple this shadowy corporation, but it’s a lost cause from the jump. Season 1 worked because it was raw: survive, win, get out. Done. This dystopian Hunger Games wannabe vibe is cool in theory, but it’s too big for its own good. The whole “greed always wins” message? Yeah, I get it, but it left me hollow, like the show was just shrugging at its own stakes. And don’t get me started on the VIPs’ acting... cartoonish and stiff, it yanked me out of the story every time they opened their mouths.
It’s a bloody, thrilling mess that recaptures some of the old spark, but it trips over its own ambition and leaves you wishing for a tighter punch.
WHAT I DISLIKED:
• VIPs remain the weakest part of this show. Their acting is wooden, and their presence is cartoonish in a story that otherwise demands gravity.
• Characters like Players 203, 039, and 100, who made it so far in the games, are vivid but lack depth. Their archetypes were one-dimensional.
• While the death-game format still delivers high-stakes tension, I did feel the interpersonal dynamics falter this time. With fewer players remaining, that complex web of social and strategic interplay, the thing that gave previous seasons their gripping unpredictability, is significantly reduced.
• Jun-ho and Woo-seok’s investigation felt like an afterthought. Key moments, like Jun-ho harpooning Captain Park or Woo-seok’s jail stint, were rushed and poorly integrated with the island’s narrative, diluting their impact and making the outside world feel like a side note.
• The season continues the voting mechanic from last time and still aims to reflect modern ideological divides, but honestly, the metaphor feels dulled now. The outcomes were predictable, and the tension that once surrounded each vote has faded.
• The middle of the season sagged under the weight of repetitive character conflicts. Moments of quiet character development, like Geum-ja’s confession to Gi-hun, were often overshadowed by drawn-out brutality, disrupting the narrative flow.
• Unlike Season 1’s rich player dynamics, Season 3’s survivors rarely formed meaningful connections. The “Bathroom Team” (Hyun-ju, Geum-ja, Jun-hee) was a brief exception, but most interactions were transactional or hostile, making it harder to care about the group’s fate.
• The final scene introducing a new recruiter in LA came off as a blatant setup for a spin-off or sequel season. It felt tacked-on and cheap, undermining the emotional closure of the island’s destruction and Gi-hun’s sacrifice.
WHAT I LIKED:
• Gi-hun’s arc is the beating heart of the season. Watching him evolve from a broken, mute shell to a man who finds purpose in protecting Jun-hee’s baby is profoundly moving. His refusal to take the Front Man’s deal made me emotional. It’s a testament to his unshakable humanity, even when the world around him collapses into chaos.
• Jang Geum-ja completely wrecked me in a midseason scene that was both haunting and transcendent. Her dynamic with her son, Yong-sik, became one of the emotional cores of the season. I also appreciated how characters like Jun-hee and Hyun-ju gained complexity and rose to the top, offering some of the best scenes of the season and stepping up when Gi-hun has lost all hope.
• No-eul’s rogue mission is a standout. Her transformation from a conflicted pink soldier to a vigilante fighting for redemption is thrilling and emotionally complex. The office showdown had me cheering. Her choice to live, inspired by Gi-hun’s sacrifice, gave me hope that even the most broken can find purpose.
• Jung Jae-il’s score continues to haunt me, and the surreal, almost nightmarish production design makes even familiar game settings feel disorienting.
• Sae-byeok’s family reunion, No-eul’s flight to her child, and Jun-ho’s custody of the baby in the epilogue felt hopeful.
Was this review helpful to you?
