Most of the shows I watch are firstly out of a fear of missing out. The second reason why I watch something is because I want to understand the relevance of all the memes going around and maybe expel a loud breath from my nose upon having understood what it meant and partially out of the pride of not having to check knowyourmemes to understand what an oddly specific-bizarre meme trend is all about (looking at you, dalgona candies)
The reason why I don’t want to hop on any current ongoing trend is this: I get VERY involved.
Rest assured, the first night that I watched the Squid Game, I would not shut up about it. I took it as a personal responsibility to involve at least two others close to me on this adventure and successfully managed to wreck their peaceful night’s sleep. Once the show was over, I was all but watching behind the scenes, analyses or Easter eggs.
Nothing alluded to the all the thoughts that were going in my head. If you have not had the time to watch Squid Game but know what the show is about, don’t worry, there are no major spoilers here.
I will spare you a detailed summary because summaries and theories are already aplenty on the internet. The reason why I am writing this is because there are observations that I need to spill before I absolutely come unhinged.
In short, the eponymous show refers to a children’s game that is played in South Korea. The show introduces us to a man whose vices are being a reckless spender, a gambling addict and overall a thankless individual. We learn that not only is he a delinquent, but is also under crippling debt. He is forced to sign off his bodily autonomy to loan sharks. Eventually, we see him be recruited into a game with 455 other players with him, which we so far think of as harmless, until of course, all hell breaks loose and we learn that being eliminated from the game also means being eliminated from the realms of mortal existence.
Soon we find out that most of the contestants who have signed up for the game are cash-strapped people, living in a society plagued with economic disparity, struggling to make ends meet and are likely under large amounts of debts. Voluntarily accepting entry to the game is their desperate attempt at living a life free from financial dues. And so, even when they learn the grim reality of the show and decide to leave, most of them come back of their own volition because life in the outside world is no better than the dystopia they will experience within these games.
Upon entering the games, the first observation I made was this—they no longer have names. The numbers on their uniform become their sole identifiers. It reminds me of Yubaba signing away her workers names in Miyazaki’s Spirited Away. Once your name is forgotten, what’s left is a mere semblance of your identity.
This does an effective job in dehumanizing the participants from the get-go. Since most of them come from a background of financial crisis, that experience is collectively shared by all the players. Beyond that, they have realities that are individualistic to each of them. However, inside the game, they are merely contestants: bet on like racehorses and put down like old dogs.
To think about it, the process of dehumanizing someone began right at the first step—you get slapped in exchange for some petty cash, and the dejected would do anything it takes to be able to live a day without financial woes.
The fact that a piggybank suspended from the ceiling has wads of cash dropped in the very instant that a player dies (regardless of the reason) goes on to further disassociate a person from their humanness and encourages more and more primal instincts to kick in. It isolates them from their grief and replaces it with greed. When you die you turn into cash for those that survive.
I think juxtaposition of conflicts or contrasts has been a consistent theme throughout the nine episode long series. From the colours of the guard’s uniforms: red, or hot pink is a colour that is in direct contrast to green, the color of the tracksuits that the contestants don.
Image Source: Netflix
The most popular waltz theme, The Blue Danube written by Strauss, or the adaption of Jazz legend Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me To The Moon are historically happy songs played in major chords. The Blue Danube was in fact modified soon after its composition to lift the morale of the Viennese who had been defeated against Prussia in the Seven Week’s War. Within the context of Squid Game, one could imagine the Blue Danube blaring from the speakers and immediately making one white from fear and anticipation at what the next game might be and whether they would come back alive to the dorm or not.
Sets are built in bright colours that can immediately connote to childhood—bright, cheerful and in your face. It may even remind you of the staircases at Hogwarts in the Harry Potter Universe or Alice in Wonderland, both of which one might associate with their childhood. Even the shapes we see on a recurring basis represent one of the first few shapes that we learn about as kids: Circles, Squares and Triangles. Even if the staircases were inspired by artist M.C. Escher, being coupled with looming camera angles fulfills the purpose of making everyone feel insignificant and powerless in a grand scheme where strings are pulled by a handful.
Image Source: Netflix
Relativity by M.C Escher | Image Source: Wikipedia
However, within the coves of the Front Man, and the chambers of the elites, the set design completely takes a 180, signifying something dark or sinister is going on.
For example, the waiting room for the participants before a game begins (like the glass bridge and marble one) was white in its entirety, almost like a void: you could barely tell the floor apart from the ceiling. Against this backdrop, the uniforms of the participants and that of the guards distinctly stood out.
On the flipside, whenever the camera cuts to focus on the Front Man or the VIPs, the lighting gets dim. The interiors are scattered with accents of black, purple and gold (a colour scheme that is also associated with royalty). The low effort uniforms of the guards and the participants is also quite the contrast from the haute couture-esque designs we see on the robes of the guests that have come to see the games to Korea, their wine chalices, or even their disturbingly exploitative furniture.
Image Source: Netflix
They even “look down” on the players playing the game. In a cinematic sense, this establishes power.
Image Source: Netflix
The intent is to build tension, and tension it builds. Not only do the angles, colours, and sounds stand contrasting to the overall theme, but the mise-en-scène does so poignantly as well.
You would reckon that when adults are allowed to relive their favorite memories from their childhood, a time of innocence, carefreeness, they can come alive.
Sadly, that does not happen.
The places where these games are played (playgrounds) have pretty designs—open fields, skies, the occasional circus set up with the lights, and the nostalgic back-alleys. But they never really allow you to feel the comfort that reliving childhood memories often does. The tension stays. Playing these games bring about dread of death, the outcomes are rarely favorable and always macabre.
Image Source: Netflix
Here is where things get interesting. Through and through the participants are made to feel like they have a choice: the illusion of free will within the set-up of the game, which extends beyond the game itself into the outside world of Squid Game. Whether free will exists in the world outside Squid Game is a debate since the times of Plato and a conversation for great philosophers to elaborate upon.
One of the rules of the game states that if the majority of the players want, and vote for it, they can bring the games to an end. Seemingly democratic, but not so much. In a heavily surveilled State, it does not seem hard to find the ins and outs of someone’s life, especially if they are searching for a needle of hope in the haystack that is capitalism.
So why did a Korean Drama appeal so much to the global audience that would scramble to the next title in a world of content at the first hint of having to read subtitles? What was the unifying factor? Survival games couldn’t have been it, because many have come before Squid Game and many will follow after.
Is it because there aren’t many differences between the Squid Game universe and our own reality, even if that is something we would hesitate to believe?
We already are living in a world where a handful of billionaires get to call the shots. I say this because politics needs money and it is more than just electoral donations. The rich need to be protected, and there are policies that safeguard their financial interests more than the rest the population's.
Within the sociopolitical climate of America alone, it is well understood that student loans could be forgiven it is entirety, public health can be improved manifold, and wealth disparity can be narrowed, if just the ultra-rich are taxed nominally more than they are being taxed right now.
Yet, it does not happen.
Suppose, those that disproportionately hoard wealth and important decision makers are cronies, or, if wealth is what it takes to be someone in power, does it not seem like a probability that something this sinister is happening right now, right under our noses?
Maybe that’s a bit of a reach.
Squid Game leaves the viewers in a state of limbo where we wish to believe it as a dystopian fiction, but its similarities to the global majority’s veracities seem too large to be a merely declared fictional.
Your Gganbu,
Sakshi Sitesh.
Comments