More 'Squid', less 'Game'

How do you get blood out of white keds?

- RAJA SEN

The question that came frequently to my mind while watching the new season of Squid Game on Netflix, where players routinely walk on the remains of vanquished players, rubber soles squelching against blood and hardwood. How do their white shoes stay spotless? Or are the players simply given a fresh batch of canvas sneakers before each game? This is not implausible, given how the satire—where debt-ridden contestants put lives on the line in the vain hope of earning millions—seems to be budgeted, but I didn't think about cleaning canvas at all in season 1. I didn't have the time.

In 2021, Squid Game conquered our screens and our imaginations. For many audiences, this was the first time they had watched a Korean series—but that didn't matter. The universality of the show's appeal could not be overstated. We were collectively hooked to creator Hwang Dong-hyuk's absurdly compelling vision of poor people betting their lives on playing children's games. We couldn't stop watching (and recommending) the gore, in many ways mirroring the evil rich capitalists within the series—sitting back and watching the bloodshed staged for their entertainment.

A new Squid Game was always going to be a tall order. How do you tell that story all over again? One way is to make it about a new set of characters going through the original structure—like, say, in