‘Squid Game 2′: ‘I won’t do this again. I lost several teeth in the process’

“I’m never gonna do this again.” The interview takes place in Korean, via an interpreter. But director Hwang Dong-hyuk emphasizes this line in English.

He’s referring to filming another season of Squid Game, the most-watched series in Netflix history, whose second season premieres on December 26. The third was filmed at the same time and will air in 2025. “And that’s it. It’s over,” Hwang repeats, ending his sentence with a wave of his hands and a relieved smile. He doesn’t want to play any more.

In case anyone on the planet hasn’t heard, Squid Game — whose first season was a hit three years ago — is an entertaining and hyper-violent satire about “how contemporary capitalist society and its unlimited competitiveness has exacerbated wealth inequality and created endless losers,” in the words of the director.

The show is about a macabre game organized by millionaires in which 456 people — stiffled by debt — end up on a remote island, fighting each other for a cash prize. The tests involve playing marbles or hide-and-seek, but the loser dies, and the winner (there can only be one) is also impacted by the horror suffered. Obsessed with stopping the macabre game and taking revenge on its sadistic creators, the victorious player 456 from the first season returns, a broken man, in the second.

Like the protagonist of his work, Hwang Dong-hyuk, 53, has also been affected by success. But still, he’s back for more.

The low-key, soft-spoken showrunner — who wears round glasses and an enormous leather jacket — won an Emmy for the series (he’s the first Asian filmmaker to win in the category for Best Director of a Drama Series). But writing those first nine episodes entirely by himself, as well as directing and producing them all, was so stressful that he lost six teeth in the process. “I thought I’d be fine this time… but right now I’m in pain and I think I’m going to have to get another [couple of teeth] out soon. I’m scared of the dentist, so I’m putting it off as long as I can,” says the filmmaker, whose sanitized portrait of suffering sends tingles down your spine.

Given that the first season reached 142 million homes and was number one in 94 countries — including the United States — didn’t he ask for a team of writers to write the second season? “I had some assistants to do research, but in the end, I worked pretty much the same way: I wrote the entire script and went back to direct and produce by myself… the pressure level was similar.” There’s also the added vertigo of any sequel to a hit: exceeding expectations.

“It’s exhausting, mentally and also physically, but I try not to think of it only in negative terms and use it as a catalyst for an energy with which I try to get the best out of myself,” Hwang says. Despite the personal wear and tear, he has stated on several occasions that he didn’t get rich from the hit first season. And this is despite the fact that it cost $18 million (a quarter of what Stranger Things costs per episode) but created nearly $900 million in “impact value” for Netflix, according to Bloomberg. This sparked some debate about how streaming platforms function in Korea, where the lack of unions mean creators collect no royalties or share in the success of their works. Netflix responded to the controversy by saying that it pays competitive salaries and that it complies with Korean law.

When asked by a BBC correspondent in Seoul about his motivations for making the sequels, Hwang — who shot every day for 11 months straight — replied bluntly: “Money.” But that wasn’t the only reason, of course. Actor Lee Jung-jae — the series’ lead star and also the first Asian actor to win an Emmy in his category — elaborates: “Seeing the public reception and the awards, it only seemed fair to continue with the story. The problem was time — we had to start from scratch. I didn’t think it would be possible to write another season so quickly. But then, director Hwang sent me the script and I remember my heart racing when I opened the document and read it straight through. It was wonderful. I thought, ‘this guy is a genius. ‘”

Fanfare

The first season of Squid Game hit Netflix 15 days after its premiere, when word of mouth had already elevated it to the most-watched show on the platform. Now, it’s all fanfare. For the premiere of the second season, Netflix invited around 50 influencers and just as many international media outlets (including EL PAÍS) to the Lucca Comics & Games festival for Halloween. The Tuscan city was decked out with the series’ visual icons, which are already part of the collective imagination: next to the medieval bell tower of San Michele stood Younghee, the sinister 13-foot-high doll with motion sensors in its eyes that fries anyone who moves in the game Red Light, Green Light. And, in the center of the Piazza dell’Anfiteatro, a pastel-colored labyrinth was set up, along with the dormitory with bunk beds that the players share, as well as the giant transparent piggy bank where the prize of 45.6 billion won (more than $30 million) accumulates as contestants die.

Similar replicas have appeared this year in Madrid, New York and Sydney, to offer fans an immersive experience of the franchise, which also includes a reality show and a video game. The merchandising includes costumes that are already classic: the green tracksuit of the contestants and the pink overalls of the guards. During the press tour, Hwang and two of the few protagonists who survived the first season — Lee Jung-jae (player 456) and Wi Ha-joon (the detective) — gave more than 75 individual interviews in a couple of days.

“The series criticizes capitalism, but it’s not political propaganda; it’s a product of capitalist society,” Hwang clarifies. “I made it so that it would sell, but I never expected such a huge success.” The director doesn’t believe that the popularity of the show, or the sale of costumes, dilutes the message: “The series shows a world where everything is commercialized. If anything, I would emphasize that.”

In the second season, the mechanics of the games change: at the end of each one, the contestants can vote to stop the massacre. The twist — according to the director — serves to reflect on the growing polarization of a world divided by class, nationality, gender and religion. But Hwang doesn’t want to chew over the moral: “I’m not a big fan of explaining the message to the public before they even see the series; it’s better for them to draw their own conclusions. What I can say is that I wanted to ask myself a question: is there hope for humanity? Do we have the will and the strength to change the direction the world is taking? And no, I don’t have an answer.”

The triangles

At the packed press conference and fan meeting held at the festival — where a new trailer is also being screened for the first time and with great fanfare — Hwang responds kindly to whatever is thrown at him. “Is it true that David Fincher is preparing an adaptation?” a reporter from Variety asks. “I saw that [this rumor] was published, but it’s not official. I respect him as a filmmaker and, as a fan, I would like to see his spinoff. Anything that expands my universe is fine… because it’s still mine,” the director replies.

“What’s new on the island?” someone else asks.

“You’ll see some new, bigger and more spectacular games and the day-to-day life of the [guards who wear] triangles.”

Another attendee asks: “Why do so many dystopias — such as Squid Game or Parasite — come out of South Korea?”

“The Korean War took place from 1950 to 1953 and, in just four or five decades, we rose from the ashes and became one of the strongest economies in the world,” Hwang explains. “To achieve this, we made many sacrifices and experienced a lot of chaos and conflict. Compared to Europe — where capitalist society took hold over a century or two — in Korea, the process was very fast and many people were forgotten along the way. So, some creators — including recent Nobel Prize winner Han Kang — take that pain and the contradictions of Korean society and explore them in our work.”

Before finishing, Hwang addresses the audience and reflects: “I get a lot of serious, very complex questions about Squid Game lately. And I just wanted to add that this isn’t such a serious or complex show. It can be very entertaining for anybody. I say this because, by going so deep into these darker themes, it gives the impression that it’s a difficult series to watch. And that’s not the case.”

It’s true that both seasons are highly digestible. However, it’s also true that Hwang came up with Squid Game at a rather dark time in his life. After studying communications and film in Seoul and Los Angeles, he shot several short films and feature-length dramas based on real events, including My Father (2007), about a Korean boy adopted in the U.S. who finds his biological father on death row.

Then, the financial crisis hit. Amidst a work stoppage, Hwang — who was raised by his mother and grandmother — fell into the credit trap while trying to produce his next project himself. He even sold his laptop to get by. He spent his days in cafes reading manga about survival games, like Battle Royale. While fantasizing about one that he could win — since he’s not the strongest or the most skilled — he came up with a disturbing scenario, inspired by the games of his own childhood and his precarious financial situation.

It was 2009. He unsuccessfully pitched his feature-length script to several production companies, but they all thought the story was too twisted and unmarketable. So, he put it away for a decade, during which time he made three other films, which couldn’t be more different from each other: Silenced (2011), an acclaimed social thriller that managed to reopen a case of sexual abuse at a school for the deaf that inspired it; Miss Granny (2014), a fantasy comedy in which an old woman regains her twenty-something appearance; and The Fortress (2017), an epic recreation of the second Manchu invasion of Korea in the 17th century. The latter was less successful with the public, but was praised by critics.

“I can’t say I have a 100% formula for success, but I think I know what people want,” Hwang muses. He believes that what unites his disparate filmography is “asking what it means to be human and stories driven by characters.”

Hwang says that he doesn’t watch TV series. Among his favorite films, he mentions The Deer Hunter (1978). The iconic duel between Robert De Niro and Christopher Walken inspired the Korean to film a Russian roulette scene that appears in the second season of Squid Game.

Some time ago, the director announced that his next film — K.O. People Club (a play on “knock out” and “killing old people”) — is inspired by Umberto Eco’s posthumous book Pape Satan Aleppe: Chronicles of a Liquid Society (2016). He promised that it would be “controversial and more violent than The Squid Game.”

But today, Hwang doesn’t want to talk about the future. “I’m still very tired. I’m exhausted — I don’t have the mental space to think about what’s next,” he says gently. “First, I want to see the public’s reactions to this series and then I want to go and rest for a while on a remote island.” Seeing the surprised look on the reporters’ faces, he adds: “One where there are no games.”

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