What makes a show truly unforgettable, especially one like Squid Game, an Emmy-winning juggernaut that turned children’s games into a global metaphor for systemic rot? Is it the high-stakes tension, the moral grey zones, or the eerie feeling that maybe, just maybe, it’s not all that far from reality?
Whatever it is, Squid Game has it. The first season rewired pop culture with its dystopian visuals and ruthless allegory, while Season 2 upped the emotional ante. And now, with Season 3 finally out, all eyes are once again on Seong Gi-hun—and the man who brings him to life.
Lee Jung Jae returns as Player 456, aka Player Number 456, 'Squid Game' Season 3’s haunted, conflicted protagonist. From a desperate underdog to a winner, and now a man on a mission, Gi-hun’s journey mirrors the show’s evolution itself. Sitting across from him on a Zoom call (him, calm and collected, me, buzzing with theories and three seasons' worth of questions), I wanted to know what exactly happens to Gi-hun in Season 3?
Spoiler alert: he’s ready for war—and he’s bringing us along for the ride.
When asked how the new chapter redefines his character, Lee is quick to dismiss any grand labels. “He’s not a player anymore, but he’s not a messiah either,” he says with a soft smile. “He’s just deeply committed to punishing those who exploit or abuse the poor.” The enemy in ‘Squid Game’ may wear red jumpsuits and gold animal masks, but in Lee’s eyes, the real message goes far beyond fiction. “There are people like that in the real world, too. ‘Squid Game’ just focuses on one of them, but in life, there are many. That’s the real fight.”
He continues, drawing parallels between Gi-hun’s mission and our collective responsibility. “You know, superhero stories usually centre on one person saving the world. But in reality, it’s good-hearted people coming together who create real change. Gi-hun is a father, too. He wants to create a just world for his daughter.” This season, things are getting bloodier for him.
Having watched a few early episodes of Season 3, I’d seen glimpses of Gi-hun being pulled back into the games, sometimes reluctantly, sometimes with fury. I asked how his approach to playing this layered character has changed over the seasons. “Some characters are simple. Gi-hun is not. His life is unimaginable; he can’t trust anyone, yet he keeps meeting new people. He’s constantly swinging between hope and despair,” he reflects. Portraying that complexity isn’t easy, but it’s what excites him most. “You never really know if Gi-hun’s choices will be right. Will he be tempted to cross over to the dark side? Maybe. So I focus on that tension, what to express, what to hold back.”
Lee credits long conversations with the director for helping shape these subtle choices. “We’d always talk through scenes together,” he says. “It helped us find the best possible way to tell his story.”
I couldn’t resist asking what it’s been like to work with a new generation of Korean actors, especially as someone with decades in the industry. Lee’s face lights up. “They’re so unique,” he says. “They have such clear individuality. And they’re incredibly professional, much more than I was when I started.” He laughs, but the admiration is genuine. “Whenever I get the chance, I’d love to work more with them.”