Squid Game Season-Premiere Recap: Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot
Just over three years ago, Squid Game arrived as a slap in the face to anyone who thought a South Korean show couldn’t be a global hit. It became (and remains) Netflix’s most-watched series, scooped up awards that no non-English show had even been nominated for before, and inspired a reality competition with millions of dollars on the line. Creator Hwang Dong-hyuk, much like his character Seong Gi-hun, could’ve just taken the win and moved on. But as we already learned in the season-one finale, Player 456 can’t do that. He’s rich, but how can he enjoy his upward mobility when it’s tied to a dehumanizing, exploitative system that failed the overwhelming majority of his fellow participants? (This show’s stance on capitalism is as clear as ever.) Anyway, something tells me there’ll be plenty of viewers who can empathize with Gi-hun’s righteous anger at wealthy elites who treat human lives as expendable … I saw all those Luigi Mangione fan cams.
The premiere picks up seconds after we left off in the season-one finale. Instead of going to Los Angeles to be a better dad, Gi-hun and his Ronald McDonald hair leave the airport. The idea that he’s still being monitored bothers him so much that he can’t wait for a more private opportunity — he simply must get fully nude in a convenience-store bathroom so that he can find and cut out the tracker implanted behind his ear. Meanwhile, police officer Jun-ho has somehow survived falling off a cliff after being shot by the Front Man, previously revealed to be his missing brother, In-ho. Apparently, Jun-ho drifted in the water until a guy named Captain Park pulled him onto his boat. He wakes up in the hospital whispering In-ho’s name.
Cut to two years later, and neither Gi-hun nor Jun-ho have been able to move on from their Squid Game experiences. Jun-ho clearly still has complicated feelings about his brother; he keeps lying and saying he didn’t see the Front Man’s face. Meanwhile, Gi-hun seems driven by a desire to prove something about his personal worth. I do believe him when he talks about wanting to end the game to prevent more deaths. But I think part of him also wants the people running the game to regret looking down on him specifically. In the season-one finale, Gi-hun was furious when he saw the Recruiter and realized the game was still going, but that alone didn’t stop him from getting all the way to the jet bridge — it was after the Front Man condescendingly told him to get on the plane for his own good that he turned around. If someone else found out about the game and shut it down first, I doubt that this hardened new version of Gi-hun would feel totally satisfied.
Okay, so how are we going to get back to the deadly titular game? Gi-hun is relying on a flipped past dynamic: Mr. Kim, the loan shark who once threatened to take his organs, is now flashing him finger-hearts. He’s on Gi-hun’s payroll, coordinating an incredibly unsubtle subway search for the unhinged salesman known to us only as the Recruiter. Worried that this year’s game will begin soon, Gi-hun ups the reward to 1 billion won (around $695,000) and intensifies the search until basically all of Seoul’s gangsters are working for him. Money is power, and Gi-hun’s got plenty. In contrast, Jun-ho’s status has fallen. Without any physical proof of his story, police higher-ups won’t let his deferential boss devote any resources to an investigation. So Jun-ho has left the major-crimes division for traffic duty, and Captain Park is the only person helping him scour the ocean for the Squid Game island.
Gi-hun and Jun-ho’s simultaneous searches have been equally unsuccessful, and the people in their lives seem to pity them. Naturally, the Recruiter pops up when Mr. Kim’s right-hand man, Woo-seok, is in mid-rant about how this is a waste of time. Gi-hun, who has been sitting in his car with enough phones to rival that one Pokémon Go grandpa, steps on the gas and heads over. Wait … please don’t tell me Jun-ho is about to pull him over for speeding and recognize him. Out of all the drivers in this city, Jun-ho just so happens to find the one person he followed to infiltrate the game? Apparently so. But Jun-ho has his partner handle the stop, so he doesn’t actually make the connection until Gi-hun drives away.
Meanwhile, the Recruiter is at a park asking people living on the streets to choose between bread and a scratch-off ticket. At least one person picks bread, but everyone else goes for the lottery ticket. The Recruiter then stomps on the leftover bread, telling his shocked audience that it’s their fault. I’m initially wondering if this is some sort of test to identify potential players based on who’s willing to give up something tangible for a tiny chance at a bigger reward. But we don’t see the Recruiter hand out any Squid Game cards before he regains his composure and leaves in a taxi. Uh … is harassing the unhoused just something he does for fun in his spare time?
After tailing the Recruiter to an alley, Mr. Kim and Woo-Seok are worried about missing out on the chance to split the reward money. They decide that they can and should capture him without waiting for Gi-hun. Unfortunately, it’s a classic case of two dumb bitches telling each other “exactly.” The Recruiter knocks them out, then makes them play rock-paper-scissors-minus-one while he fires at the loser. After the Recruiter ups the Russian roulette odds of dying to five in six, Woo-seok plays two rocks. Mr. Kim plays paper and scissors, but doesn’t pull either hand back.
He already knows the Recruiter will disqualify (read: kill) him for that, but I think there’s a huge difference between getting shot for not playing and getting shot for losing the round. Picking a hand to move would feel like actively deciding whether his close friend should live or die. He’d feel responsible for the outcome. But the thing is, if Mr. Kim decided to win that last round of rock-paper-scissors, he wouldn’t be the one pulling the trigger on Woo-seok — just as all the people in the park who chose scratch-offs weren’t the ones who threw the bread on the floor. The Recruiter is the one with the gun and the bread-stomping shoes, and he’s the one who decides when he gets to use them. Yet by offering a “choice,” he can shift the blame and make people feel complicit in the consequences that he created. It’s a zero-sum game — any “win” in this system means someone else has to lose. It’s a relevant idea to introduce in the premiere, given Gi-hun’s goals.
We’re also being asked to think a lot about dehumanization. The Recruiter and Gi-hun both accept and reinforce the idea that there are power hierarchies in this world. You’re human or you’re trash; you’re a master or a dog; you deserve respect or you don’t. And whew, Gi-hun definitely makes it clear that he doesn’t respect the Recruiter. When he comes back to his motel to find the blood-spattered Recruiter waiting with a gun, he just wants him to fetch his superiors.
The Recruiter, who just put two grown men in dog-bone gags, does not appreciate being called a dog. He reveals that while working his way up the Squid Game ranks, he didn’t hesitate to shoot his own dad in the forehead. In fact, he was actually happy afterward because it affirmed his career path. I’m terrified — even big boss In-ho shot Jun-ho only in the shoulder — but Gi-hun remains unimpressed. So the Recruiter proposes a modified game of Russian roulette where one of them will die within six shots. Gi-hun thinks that he couldn’t possibly comprehend what it takes to survive competing in something like Squid Game? Well, what if the Recruiter stops being an overseer and puts his own life on the line?
I can’t say I’m too worried about our protagonist dying in episode one, but it’s still a tense scene. After four blanks, Gi-hun has the gun. The odds are 50/50 he’ll get the bullet. The Recruiter points out that Gi-hun could just take his chances and aim across the table. If he fires once or twice, he’ll find a “key” to meeting the higher-ups in the Recruiter’s pocket. But if Gi-hun cheats, the Recruiter wants him to admit that he’s a piece of trash that was just lucky enough to make it out of the dumpster. Instead, Gi-hun grits his teeth and pulls the trigger.
It’s a blank. He hands the gun over and uses the Recruiter’s own monologue against him. He can break the rules and shoot Gi-hun, as long as he admits that he’s just a dog that follows orders. (In Korean, Gi-hun uses the dog-related curse word gaesaekki, which actually has a pretty perfect English equivalent: son of a bitch.) Obviously, the Recruiter could use the loaded gun on Gi-hun without saying that. But then Gi-hun could die looking down on him as both a dog and a coward. Is your personal dignity worth more than your life? Gi-hun already pulled the trigger and let us know what he thinks. And the Recruiter ultimately has the same answer, tilting his chin up to make this episode go out with a bang.
Parting Shots
• In Korean, the word for bread is 빵 (bbang), which can also be used as onomatopoeia for a gunshot. In English, bread can refer to food or money. So this episode’s title is a pun in both languages!
• Hwang Dong-hyuk has publicly compared this season to The Matrix with regard to Gi-hun taking the red pill rather than living in ignorance. I suspect we might have that inspiration to thank for the gorgeous lighting in that last game of Russian roulette, where both men’s faces are half bathed in red light and half bathed in the cooler tone coming through the rainy window.
• New player(s) alert! We see two people with Squid Game cards. A bruised guy on the subway ignores a call from a girl who then skips an OB/GYN appointment. (She’s played by actress and K-pop star Jo Yu-ri, giving new meaning to stans calling her Mother.)
• Winner of the episode: The Recruiter, hands down. Gong Yoo had only one episode before his character got killed off, and that mannequin muse made every scene — including and especially his death — count. Despite his chilling backstory and generally evil vibe, I can guarantee there are still going to be thirsty edits of him and that gun in his mouth on TikTok. That’s main-character energy.
• Loser of the episode: The little boy who walked in to see Gi-hun dripping blood all over the bathroom. I’d be traumatized! Hope you’re doing okay, bud.