Squid Game season 3 review: New depths of depravity in sombre swan song

Of course, most elimination-based narratives – from The Hunger Games to The X Factor to The Traitors – naturally do come alive in the later stages, as the stakes are raised and viewers have had a chance to form stronger opinions on the line-up.

Nevertheless, it's nice to be reminded that Squid Game can still deliver those gut punch moments we all remember from its debut, after none of the season 2 deaths had much of an impact (with the exception of beloved rap king Thanos, who I miss dearly).

Should these far superior episodes have been chopped off the last batch, when they suspiciously appear more like season 2 part 2 than a true third chapter? That's debatable, but fortunately, the quality on display easily absolves any marketing trickery.

From episode 2 onwards, Squid Game season 3 will have you on the ropes, delivering emotional right hooks and upper cuts right up to its nerve-shredding penultimate chapter – which leaves the remaining few players on the edge of a nightmarish conundrum.

If you're looking for a verdict on the finale, though, you'll have to keep searching: I'm writing this review a week before the season drops and there's no sight of the last episode just yet. Understandably, Netflix are keeping it locked away for as long as possible.

However, if the Squid Game season 3 finale is of a comparable quality to the preceding five episodes, I'll have no trouble standing by this four-star review – and may even wish to upgrade it to the full five.

Picking up after the season 2 ending (or mid-season finale, in honest terms), we're reunited with a truly broken Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae); a shadow of his former self, who can hardly muster the energy to engage with his fellow players (bar one, that is).

When the first game of the season proves to be a status quo-shifter, it stokes the embers of even Gi-hun's crushed spirit – but to say any more than that would be a spoiler (and believe me when I say that there's a lot to spoil).

Screenwriter and creator Hwang Dong-hyuk really has stored up a hefty supply of unpleasant surprises for this crescendo, dropping grim and genuinely shocking twists on the dwindling group of players in each and every episode.

The Squid Game cast rise to the occasion, conveying extreme levels of distress with harrowing commitment. I'm conscious that the finer details of these performances may go over my head as a non-speaker of Korean, but the key notes could rattle anyone's bones.

Returning standouts include Park Gyu-young (as Pink Guard No-eul), Park Sung-hoon (as trans woman Hyun-ju), Kang Ha-neul (as deserter Dae-ho), plus Kang Ae-shim and Yang Dong-geun as mother-son pairing Geum-ja and Yong-sik.

Meanwhile, Lee Jung-jae's Gi-hun and Lee Byung-hun's In-ho (aka The Front Man) continue to be intriguing reflections of one another, with their battle of wills proving unpredictable up to five episodes in.

It's a shame that the latter is saddled with such distractingly bad co-stars as the VIPs – the spectators and funders of the Squid Game – comprised primarily by English-speaking actors who somehow sound more awkward than season 2's Thanos ever did.

Longtime viewers may remember there being a pantomime quality about this nasty bunch in season 1, but I had assumed the casting director may have sought out some stronger talent following the resulting backlash.

What this may have detracted in consistent continuity, it would surely have repaid in drama; instead, cutting to these bizarre, gold-adorned, cocktail-sipping super villains is like chucking a bucket of ice water over the tension and raw emotion of the games.

As for the games themselves, they too are an upgrade on the somewhat underwhelming season 2 assortment, where Mingle was the main highlight over the disjointed "six legs" pentathlon and the Red Light, Green Light redux.

The first game played, a twisted take on Hide and Seek, is emotionally draining, backing players into corners (both literally and figuratively) to provoke some strong character interactions – and earth-shattering moments.

From there, we veer into the realm of fantasy as creator Hwang presents a couple of nightmare fuel contraptions – think Saw on LSD – leaning on CGI which effectively realises the concept, but admittedly is far from seamless.

Importantly, the powerful messaging behind the bloodshed remains, with Squid Game season 3 seeming to take a particularly damning view of male violence as a cruel clique seek to wrestle control over proceedings.

It's a timely plot in the Adolescence age, when respect towards women, compassion for anyone suffering, and adherence to long-respected social obligations are disparaged by so-called "alpha male" influencers in toxic online spaces.

You certainly get the impression that some of the Squid Game players in season 3 have spent a bit too long on those forums, streams and social media sites that peddle such self-absorbed attitudes – and, as in the real world, are playing into the hands of a small elite.

Whatever unfolds in the final episode, Hwang is deserving of praise for keeping this series relevant, dynamic and exciting right up until the bitter end – and for having the courage to draw a firm line under his tenure.

While Netflix may well attempt to keep Squid Game alive through that long-rumoured American spin-off, Hwang's iteration looks poised for a fitting end with these final six episodes, which bring Gi-hun's journey full circle in chilling, unexpected ways.

Squid Game season 3 is available to stream on Netflix from Friday 27th June 2025.

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