Squid Pro Quo

People risking their lives in a variety of demented playground style contests for money made for addictive viewing in Hwang Dong-hyuk's Netflix series Squid Game (2021). The  global phenomenon successfully managed to entertain and shock in equal measure. It also felt like a complete package in its nine episode run. Netflix commissioning a second and third season obviously makes business sense for the streaming giant, but just like film sequels, it runs the risk of being inferior and diluting the brand. For Dong-hyuk's creation, Squid Game season two is still a highly bingeworthy offering, but also a mixed bag compared to its sublime predecessor.

What's instantly noticeable about the second season is it being reduced to seven episodes. Hardly a red flag, but cause for concern considering it's significantly slower paced in getting to the actual games than before. Main protagonist, Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae), is a completely changed man after winning the previous tournament. Joined by cop Hwang Jun-ho (Wi Ha-joon), they now command a team of mercenaries searching for the location of the deadly games and the cryptic higher ups who run it.

Gi-hun becoming a contestant again leads to a few changes in both the variety of games and general theme of the show. His familiarity with the iconic first game Red Light, Green Light leads to more survivors, which consequentially means less prize money for everyone alive. This in turn leads to scenes where the survivors vote more often in proceeding with the next games. The winning majority dictating what happens next. This in turn has the voting losers forced to play on and risk their lives. Whereas the first season was a satire on capitalism, season two makes a prodding commentary on democracy, and how the exploitation of it. 

The new contestants are a varied bunch of desperate individuals: an elderly mother and her idiotic son are perhaps the most interesting of the new lot. The most odious of the bunch is Thanos, a Korean rapper, with eye rolling hood talk, who had me praying for his instant death. The actor who played him was terrible, too. The first season's players were far more memorable, however.

Season two's biggest offence is it feeling like it has been divided from the inevitable third season, thanks to its pacing and various sub plots being ridiculously drawn out. Thus, even with its violent finale and predictable cliffhanger, it doesn't come close to being as satisfying as its debut season. This reeks of Netflix's tampering, as other shows exclusive to the platform have intentionally been divided (Cobra Kai's sixth season).

Overall, Squid Game season two is a mixed bag. A series which continues to shine with its incredible premise and high risk stakes, make it easy to binge all the way through, effortlessly. However, the slower pace and drawn out story telling, replete with it all being told in less episodes, make it feel a little underwhelming compared to its monumental debut. Still, despite this criticism, Squid Game still left me feeling invested and wondering how it will conclude.

Grave Encounters

Exhuma (Jang Jae-hyun, 2024)

A wealthy Korean American family hire Lee Hwa-rim (Kim Go-eun), a renowned shaman, to vanquish a family curse which takes the life of every firstborn. This endeavour turns out to be too big a job for the mystic and her apprentice Yoo Bong-gil (Lee Do-hyun), and so undertaker Go Yeong-geun (Yoo Hae-jin) and geomancer Kim Sang-deok (Choi Min-sik) are thrown into the mix. Effectively, a Korean Ghostbusters squad. Superstitious rituals are performed at an ancestor's grave, to remove the life threatening curse, and finally rid it permanently. If all else fails, the remains must be exhumed and then cremated. Given the film's title Exhuma (2024), this isn’t going to go to plan.

Split into several chapters, Jang Jae-hyun's film contains two very distinctive halves. Initially, it focuses on being a supernatural mystery and dealing with bizarre procedures involved in lifting the curse safely. It also casts doubt on the various mystics. Could they potentially be con artists exploiting people’s superstitions and desperation? Meanwhile, the legacy of Japan's occupation of Korea is brought under the spotlight —much like The Wailing (2016). Once a major plot revelation is literally unearthed, the slow burn mystery is substituted with an all out possession folk horror. It's where the film absolutely excels.

Jang Jae-hyun's Korean box office hit can feel a little bloviated during the first half of the film. Excessive fat, like convoluted dialogue and unnecessary exposition, ought to have been trimmed off in the cutting room. Given he wrote Exhuma, it might explain why a script editor wasn't so effective. For instance, as great as the second half of the film is, the victimised family are unceremoniously written out and forgotten. Thankfully, the awesome showdown with the film's demonic antagonist and the stakes involved manage to sidetrack these obvious shortcomings.

Goes without saying, Korean cinema tends be blessed with some marvellous visuals, and Exhuma is no exception. Shot by Lee Mo-gae, the same cinematographer responsible for A Tale of Two Sisters (2003) and I Saw the Devil (2010) (Choi Min-sik also stars in the latter) he competently changes styles to match the two distinctly obvious parts of the film.

Great to see foreign films like Exhuma highlight unique superstitions from around the world. Offering a cultural break from the various clichés borrowed from European folklore. A major reason why the Senegalese genre-bender Saloum (2022) was so refreshing. Hopefully, more foreign films follow in Exhuma's footsteps.

Bottom line: Exhuma is a lore heavy folk horror; addressing sins of the past which permeate throughout the film. The cast, particularly Choi Min-sik's charismatic vape-smoking geomancer, are all solid, and do help buffer the two wildly different tones of the film. Occasionally convoluted with unnecessary exposition, Exhuma still manages to be a highly mesmerising film.