My Favorite Quentin Tarantino Movie

I've been in something of a standoff with Quentin Tarantino for years now.  One of my rules for this director series is that you don't get written about  unless I've seen ten of your films, or half of your output if you're dead.  If you count "Kill Bill" as a single film, Tarantino has directed nine features.  Since he only intends to direct ten features in total, he's in no hurry to make that tenth film.  It's been six years since "Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood," and there is absolutely nothing new from him on the horizon.  Since I've been enjoying Tarantino's work less and less with each new movie, I think there's little chance of me taking much of a shine to that theoretical tenth film.  So, instead of waiting around, I'm counting "Kill Bill" as two films, and now I finally get to write about "Jackie Brown."

Tarantino has a reputation for reviving the careers of older actors who have hit a slump.  Pam Grier, a former '70s blaxploitation star, is one of the major examples.  "Jackie Brown," adapted from an Elmore Leonard novel, is clearly a star vehicle designed for her, and full of little tributes and references to Grier's past work and the era she came up in.  Tarantino changed the main character's name and ethnicity specifically so that Grier could play her.  And Grier does not hesitate to remind us that she is a movie star.  From the opening title sequence, which combines "The Graduate" with "Across 110th Street," she dominates the frame.  Yes, the lead of the movie is a black woman in her forties, and the movie isn't shy about that for a second.

Much has been made of Tarantino's more prurient obsessions, but I love how Jackie Brown is portrayed in this movie.  She's treated as an object of desire, but never fetishized or overtly sexualized.  Jackie is not the over-the-top action heroine of "Coffy" or "Foxy Brown," but an aging flight attendant caught in a bad situation, who faces either doing time or starting her life over again at 44.  A possible third option means taking a risk to get herself in the clear, and putting some long-dormant criminal talents to good use.  Pam Grier's onscreen presence is instantly commanding, yet vulnerable enough for us to believe that men like Max Cherry and Ray Nicolette would fall in love with her.  We see Jackie wielding a gun, briefly, but she's smart enough that she never has to use it.  And when she has her third act glow-up, her outfit is a badass black suit, the kind favored by Tarantino characters in "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction."  

"Jackie Brown" also boasts one of the greatest supporting casts ever assembled for a motion picture.  You've got Samuel L. Jackson in a "Superfly" wig being the most charming evil bastard you ever met.  You've got gum-chewing ATF agent Michael Keaton who sympathizes with Jackie in spite of himself.  You've got DeNiro and Bridget Fonda hanging out and watching "Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry," before embarking on one of the worst criminal partnerships of all time.  And then you've got Robert Forster.  So much of "Jackie Brown" lives in his wistful reaction shots and long silences.  And I so appreciate that Tarantino lets his characters have long silences and private moments to themselves, where they're allowed to just exist with their thoughts.  

No discussion of "Jackie Brown" can be had without mentioning the soundtrack, built on favorites from Tarantino's record collection.  The meticulous curation, with many scenes written with specific songs in mind, lends so much to the way the film feels from moment to moment.  Jackie and Max's relationship sparking to The Delphonics records, the tracks playing in Ordell's car with the levels just the way he likes them, and Jackie finally singing along to Bobby Womack in the closing scene, all reflect a deep love and appreciation for the music that is part of the film's DNA.

While "Jackie Brown" didn't do well upon its initial release, being such a departure from Quentin Tarantino's earlier films, it's quietly grown in stature over the years to become widely recognized as his most mature and well-written feature.  It's definitely the one I've appreciated more with age, as I've come to relate more to Jackie and Max's view of the world.  And it's why I've been a little disappointed with every Tarantino film since.  His movies have gotten bigger and bigger, but at the same time they've also gotten further and further away from matters of the heart.

What I've Seen - Quentin Tarantino

Reservoir Dogs (1992) 

Pulp Fiction (1994) 

Jackie Brown (1997) 

Kill Bill: Volume 1 (2003) 

Kill Bill: Volume 2 (2004) 

Death Proof (2007) 

Inglourious Basterds (2009) 

Django Unchained (2012) 

The Hateful Eight (2015) 

Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood (2019)

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Rank 'Em - The "Chucky" Movies

I filled in one of my horror blindspots this year, which was the long-running, genre-hopping "Child's Play"/"Chucky" franchise.  The quality of the individual movies was all over the place, but I enjoyed my weird, nasty journey with Chucky and friends.  Below, find my rankings of all eight films, from best to least.

Child's Play (1988) - The original "Child's Play" is still far and away the best film in the franchise, because there's nothing else that can match that great reveal where Chucky finally gets to let loose on Catherine Hicks.  It's a ridiculous premise, but the execution is fabulous.  Chucky is viscerally repulsive and scary in this movie, to a surprising degree.  Effects supervisor Kevin Yagher and his team deserve so much credit for their work bringing everyone's favorite Good Guy to life.

Child's Play 2 (1990) - Much less effective as a thriller since we know from the start what Chucky is up to.  However, the finale sequence in the toy factory is the high point of the franchise for me, with the best kill sequences and some potent nightmare fuel imagery.  I also have a soft spot for Alex Vincent as Andy, who I'm glad got to come back for another round.  The movie also sports a surprisingly deep bench of beloved character actors, including Jenny Agutter, Grace Zabriskie, and Beth Grant.

Child's Play (2019) - The recent remake is a lot higher on this list than I had originally intended to put it, but the film really is a pretty good watch on its own.  The actors are all solid, especially Audrey Plaza and Brian Tyree Henry.  Chucky being the result of misused smart technology works decently enough, plotwise.  The biggest problem is that the redesigned doll voiced by Mark Hamill doesn't hold a candle to the original Chucky.  The new guy just doesn't have as much personality or panache.  

Seed of Chucky (2004) - This one is a lot of fun as a Hollywood spoof, with Jennifer Tilly getting a chance to make fun of herself.  It's not great as a "Chucky" film, however, especially if you're here for the horror and gore.  Also, the new character of Glen/Glenda voiced by Billy Boyd didn't work for me at all.  What pushed this one over the top, however, was the participation of John Waters and the weird finale - which is the closest thing to a happy ending that I think the characters were ever going to get.  

Bride of Chucky (1998) - I applaud the creators for pushing the movies in a new direction by leaning into the comedy and the camp value of the Chucky character.  The addition of Jennifer Tilly as Chucky's longtime paramour, Tiffany Valentine, creates  a fun Bonnie-and-Clyde dynamic, and the opportunity for an epic glow-up sequence.  Unfortunately, I find Katherine Heigl and the other humans pretty forgettable, and Ronny Yu's direction and I have just never gotten along (See "Freddy vs Jason").

Child's Play 3 (1991) - I didn't find this nearly as bad as the reviews made it out to be, and it's definitely not the worst of the series.  If anything, the third "Child's Play" suffers from a lack of imagination, just sticking Chucky in a military academy as part of his latest attempt to steal Andy's body.  Andy now being a teenager played by Justin Whalin adds absolutely nothing.  However, there are still a few decent kills and Chucky still manages to come across as a real menace, which is more than I can say for… 

Curse of Chucky (2013) and Cult of Chucky (2017) - These are the two direct-to video features that are officially the last in the original continuity, not counting the 2021 "Chucky" television show.  And they're both fine.  I understand that some fans were happy to have Chucky back in fairly straight horror films again, but it was very noticeable that the budgets had shrunk and the effects work was much more limited.  Kudos to the heroic efforts of Don Mancini for keeping the franchise going for as long as he did, but by the end of "Cult of Chucky," it was clearly time for a break.  

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My Top Ten Episodes of 2013-2014

So, I went on a hiatus with this feature while I was figuring out what I wanted it to be.  Should I take the opportunity to go back and watch the highlights of these years that I hadn't seen?  Did I want to try to be comprehensive with these picks?

I quickly came to the conclusion that I didn't have the time or the resources for that.  It was better for me to take the more personal approach and make lists of favorites based on what I'd already seen, as if I'd made the lists at the end of the years they covered.  I'll continue to watch older shows, so you will see picks from programs like "Lost" pop up here and there, but I'm not going to seek out programs specifically for this list, or put off writing these lists until I've seen certain shows.

So, find my top ten episodes for the 2013-2014 television season below, in no particular order.  And a few spoilers ahead. "Breaking Bad" and "Hannibal" newbies, watch your step.

Review, "Pancakes, Divorce, Pancakes" - "Review" was a black comedy, but it wasn't clear how dark it was willing to go, or how much Forrest MacNeil was going to involve his personal life in his absurd reviews, until this episode rolled around.  Bookending the divorce segment with the two deranged pancake segments is perfect, emphasizing the cruelly arbitrary nature of the forces that Forrest has allowed to take over his life.  

Game of Thrones, "The Mountain and the Viper" - Pedro Pascal became a star thanks to his role as Oberyn Martell in the fourth season, and he got one of the show's most memorable fight sequences.  The buildup to the climactic clash was perfect, with the stakes slowly being raised until everyone was ready to see the Mountain go down.  Arguably, this was the high point of the entire show, and the last big surprise that the showrunners pulled off.  

Orange is the New Black, "The Chickening" - I didn't watch much of "Orange is the New Black," but this one always stuck with me for the way it deftly humanizes so many of the characters, like Kate Mulgrew's Red.  This can be treated as a transitional episode of sorts, where the narrative becomes less concerned with Piper, and spends more time on the diverse community around her,  The Diaz ladies get the spotlight and Pennsatucky makes her first appearance in this episode.  

Kitchen Nightmares, "Amy's Baking Company" - Reality programming doesn't make many appearances on these lists, but occasionally there is a cultural milestone so undeniable that to leave it off would be unthinkable.  So it is with this episode of "Kitchen Nightmares," a show I don't normally watch or enjoy.  However, there are some television trainwrecks that are so infamous that they are transcendent.  Behold, the folly of Gordon Ramsay and the madness of Amy and Samy Bouzaglo.

Person of Interest, "The Devil's Share" - The third season of "Person of Interest" had a run of fantastic episodes, including one of the best exits I've ever seen for a regular on a network show.  This episode is about the aftermath, where the good guys are embracing rage, retribution, and a lot of wrath as part of the grieving process.  However, what makes it an all timer is Enrico Colantoni's badass villain monologue at the end, when we find out who actually gets to see justice done.  

True Detective, "Who Goes There" - I'm making the obvious choice with "True Detective," the show that made the TV/movie star distinction obsolete, and choosing the most technically impressive episode.  This is the one with the famous six-minute long take action sequence, a hallmark of the work of director Cary Joji Fukunaga.  Within the narrative, it's something of a digression, but it's also indicative of the momentum ramping up and the past starting to catch up to the present.    

Community, "Cooperative Polygraphy" - I wasn't planning on picking anything from the rocky fifth season of "Community," but then I stumbled across the COVID table read of this no-frills bottle episode, with Pedro Pascal filling in for Walton Goggins, and I remembered how much fun it was.  The absence of Chevy Chase's Pierce is milked for all its worth, and I'm not smart enough to make the obvious sperm sample joke here.  Let's just say the best was made of a ridiculous situation.

Breaking Bad, "Ozymandias" -  Walter White has his day of reckoning, and it's spectacular.  His entire criminal enterprise has fallen apart, the police are closing in, and the fallout is affecting all of his remaining relationships.  Every single goodbye, from Hank and Jesse to Skyler, Walt Jr., and even baby Holly is absolutely gutting.  Directed by Rian Johnson, the episode is tense, full of little misdirections, and very good at ramping up the emotional intensity to dizzying heights.     

Mad Men, "Waterloo" - The moon landing episode, which features the farewell performance of Robert Morse as Bert Cooper, singing "The Best Things in Life Are Free" as he dances off into the unknown.  As the show prepared for its final stretch, Don found himself in another round of corporate politicking, escaping the executioner's axe again, and facing another divorce.  However, some changes are inevitable, and the season ends with Don facing both mortality and the 1970s.

 

Hannibal, "Mizumono" - Let's end with one of the most jawdropping season finales ever aired on network television.  The bloody culmination of the second season of "Hannibal" involves a showdown with all the remaining players at Lecter's house.  In hindsight, it would have had so much more impact if the show had ended right here, with four major characters on the brink of death, and a serial killer at large and seemingly invincible.   

Honorable Mention:

Doctor Who, "The Day of the Doctor"

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Going Into "Deep Cover"

Orlando Bloom, Bryce Dallas Howard, and Nick Mohammed are three actors that I've had some trouble with.  It's not that they're bad actors, but they're actors who haven't always had the best material, resulting in some less-than-stellar performances in sub-par roles.  The prospect of them starring in an action comedy together wasn't necessarily a deterrent, but it did give me pause.  So was the premise, where the three of them play aspiring improv comedians who are recruited to play buyers in a police sting operation.  I tend to find pretentious hammy actor characters in comedies grating.  This is why "Deep Cover" was pretty low on my "To Watch" list for a couple of months, but I'm glad that I finally caught up with it.    

"Deep Cover" is a British production, directed by Tom Kingsley, and written by two British and two American screenwriters.  Kat (Howard), Marlon (Bloom) and Hugh (Mohammed) are all participants in the same London improv class.  Once promising comedian Kat teaches the group, Marlon is a struggling actor whose biggest role has been in an embarrassing commercial, and Hugh is a lonely IT worker just trying to gain some social skills and confidence.  They're approached by DI Billings (Sean Bean) to work undercover on a small operation, but their decision to play badass criminal characters inadvertently puts them into contact with dealers and operators higher and higher up the chain, including middleman Fly (Paddy Considine), his boss Metcalfe (Ian McShane), and enforcer Shosh (Sonoya Mizuno).  Soon Kat, Marlon, and Hugh, are pretending to be Bonnie, Roach, and The Squire, while getting involved in criminal dealings with London mobsters, and being hunted down by another pair of cops, DI Dawes (Ben Ashenden) and DS Beverley (Alexander Owen).

The last thing I was expecting from "Deep Cover" was a well-written, well-plotted script, but that's exactly what I got.  After seeing so many lazily put-together action comedies over the past few years, it was such a nice change to have one where the story supported the farce.  There are lots of twists and curveballs thrown at the audience, and the story is genuinely unpredictable.  The pacing is also very well controlled, with none of the scenes going on too long or the jokes being overplayed.  You can tell that there probably was some improv with the dialogue, such as a scene where Kat lists all the drugs she's tried, or one where Hugh has to do cocaine, or the whole body disposal situation, but it never gets into unwieldy, Judd Apatow territory.  There's also minimal cringe or embarrassment humor, and no fixation on sophomoric content, unlike too many American comedies I could name.  

The leads are all great.  Bloom's Marlon is the only one who qualifies as a pretentious hammy actor character, but he's unsuccessful and insecure, and an awful lot of fun to watch.  The other two are normal human beings who just happen to enjoy improv.  It helps that all three turn out to be pretty winning underdogs, who are smart, good in a crisis, and play off of each other well.  The line delivery is great, the slapstick lands well, and I'm sure the film can sustain plenty of rewatches.  And it felt good to watch these actors show that they do have solid comedy chops, and can turn in great performances, given the chance.  Mohammed's found a good niche for himself over the past few years as a character actor, but Bloom and Howard have been floundering for a while with crummier projects like "Argylle" and "Gran Turismo."  If they want to stick around in comedy circles for a while, I'd be all for it.         

As for "Deep Cover," it's going on the short list of modern adult comedies that I really enjoy, along with "Game Night" and "Barb and Star."  I hope all the talent involved don't wait too long to make me laugh again.

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Rewatching "American Cinema"

I've always liked documentaries about movies and television, and I feel like being a nerd about media was part of my fandom DNA from early on.  One of the earliest ones that stuck with me was the 1995 "American Cinema" series, an ambitious ten-part PBS program that was designed to be part of an educational course.  

The main part of the series consists of ten hour-long episodes on topics like "The Studio System," and "Film in the Television Age," each with an introduction by John Lithgow and narration from an array of different actors.  There were also a few shorter supplementary episodes intended for classroom use.  My local PBS stations ran marathons of the series a few times, but the two episodes I kept stumbling across were "The Film School Generation" and "The Edge of Hollywood."  The first is about the rise of Francis Ford Coppola, Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and their cohort in the 1960s and 1970s.  The second is about independent American cinema in the late 1980s and early 1990s, including films from Spike Lee, Quentin Tarantino, and the Coen brothers.  

I recently got a chance to finally watch the whole "American Cinema" series from start to finish, and I found it well worth my time.  It was impossible to cover all of the history of American moviemaking in the allotted time, but I found "American Cinema" a worthy attempt.  There's some variance in quality from episode to episode, but all feature good interviews from historians, working directors, and other Hollywood players.  There are also lots and lots of classic film clips that it must have been a monumental effort to licence.  Five of the episodes are focused on the history of American cinema, looking at the development of the studios, movie stars, and some of the major changes affecting the industry.  The other five are about the movies themselves, specifically a handful of genres that had their genesis in Hollywood - the western, the film noir, and the romantic comedy.  The opening episode is entirely devoted to the "Hollywood style," where Martin Scorsese and Sydney Pollack, among others, try to define what made Hollywood films stand out from the crowd.  

With the benefit of hindsight thirty years later, it's fascinating to see the choices and delineations made by "American Cinema" that don't match up with modern expectations.  There are episodes that spotlight directors who came out of the early television ecosystem, and the "movie brats" who came up from films schools, but the term "New Hollywood" hadn't been popularized yet, and Peter Biskind's Easy Riders, Raging Bulls wouldn't be published for a few more years.  "Combat films" get a whole episode, but there's barely any mention of musicals or horror or animation.  African-American cinema, LGBT cinema, and outsider cinema are all lumped together in the one episode on independent cinema.  

Clearly a lot of thought and care went into the series, however, and despite some of the dodgy calls on what was included and what wasn't, I still found the presentations valuable.  Information in episodes like "The Star" may no longer be relevant to 2020s Hollywood, as it compares the careers of Golden Age stars like Joan Crawford and the more modern Julia Roberts.  However, I found the discussion made for a fantastic time capsule for the brief era where movie stars were real players in the movie business, and had a major say in what got made.  Many of the interviews are very prescient, such as Robert Altman predicting the death of physical film in favor of "electronic" media.  

Because I am easily swayed by nostalgia, I was frequently delighted with the chance to see directors like Scorsese and Spielberg as they were at the height of their powers thirty years ago, departed old masters like Joseph Mankiewicz and Billy Wilder, and even appearances by an appallingly young-looking Whit Stillman and Gregg Araki.  There are a couple of problematic figures in the mix - James Toback participates in one of the supplementary discussions - but the series manages to avoid tripping over most of the serious cultural landmines that I was expecting.  

Modern viewers might find the early installments too laudatory and inoffensive, but the romantic comedy episode has a great time letting Amy Heckerling and Kathryn Bigelow point out the conservative gender politics inherent in the genre and provide a more critical viewpoint.  Other directors air plenty of grievances about their time in Hollywood, and the examinations of the business side of the movies are all pretty even-handed.  I find the historical episodes much more interesting than the ones on genre and style, maybe because this is where I feel the series' age the most acutely.

There have been many other documentaries made about American cinema since "American Cinema," some much better and more insightful about their specific subjects.   However, I haven't found anything as ambitious or comprehensive on the subject yet.  And I do think it's important to acknowledge that this is one of my foundational media experiences, especially as a film fan, and something that I'll continue to judge every other entertainment documentary against.      

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"Materialists" Aims High

The chemistry of a screen love triangle is always a tricky affair.  And the more self-aware a romance is, the trickier it can be.  "Materialists" is a very self-conscious modern day love story that deals in a lot of very old romance tropes.  It depends entirely on buying that our heroine, Lucy (Dakota Johnson), has more chemistry with one man, John (Chris Evans), instead of another, Harry (Pedro Pascal).  Director Celine Song tries her hardest, but by the end of the movie I still wasn't convinced.  I enjoyed the movie for other reasons, but it's a shame that the central conceit never quite worked.

Lucy is a matchmaker based in New York City, who works for an upscale agency called Adore.  Her clients pay thousands for her to arrange dates with potential matches, and Lucy is very good at her job.  Easily the best parts of the movie are the scenes of her offering counseling and insights into modern relationships for her clients.  It's refreshing to hear her talk so bluntly about the transactional nature of many couplings, and all the traits people judge their worth by - age, wealth, height, weight, job, education, and attractiveness.  Lucy herself is happy to stay single, until she meets a "unicorn," a wealthy man named Harry who is exactly what she's always wanted.  However, a complicating factor is that she still has feelings for her ex, John, a struggling actor who she only parted ways with because he's perpetually broke.  

It's a given who Lucy is going to end up with, but getting there is the fun part.  I really enjoyed Dakota Johnson's performance, playing Lucy as this coolly self-assured, but incredibly jaded woman who peddles the notion that all good matches are just a matter of putting all the right variables together.   Johnson always had a slightly unapproachable screen persona, and that works for the character, who hides her insecurities under a facade of the all-knowing matchmaker who has all the answers and says all the quiet parts out loud.  "Materialists" is really a character study of Lucy, and what happens when her preconceptions are challenged.  Equally important as her relationships to John and Harry is Lucy's relationship with her client Sophie (Zoë Winters), an average woman with realistic expectations, who Lucy is having trouble finding matches for.  The matchmaking math isn't working as expected, and Lucy has to face that there are some serious flaws in the way she views love and romance. 

The filmmaking is wonderful, and "Materialists" is such a pleasure to watch.  Sure, there's plenty of lifestyle eye candy, but the visual storytelling all around is superb.  I love the way that Lucy looks subtly different in her scenes with her two love interests, the way that she's lit and the way that she's framed.  You immediately understand that Lucy belongs with John because she's more open and comfortable in his world than the more affluent one she's worked so hard to access.  I wasn't a big fan of "Past Lives" because I felt the story was awfully slight, but it's great to find that Celine Song's style translates to something more broad and commercial.

Alas, the only place where I think she went wrong was casting Chris Evans.  I like Chris Evans as an actor, but he and Dakota Johnson don't pair nearly as well as Pedro Pascal and Dakota Johnson.  Switching their roles might have been interesting, but what I think it comes down to is that Evans doesn't have the energy of a blue collar, average everyman.  There's too much Captain America in him for that, so the interactions with Johnson always ring a little false.  On the flip side, Pedro Pascal as a fantasy of the ideal husband, who turns out to be maintaining his own facade, is spot on.  I don't care that Pascal is in everything this year because he keeps nailing it.        

And despite the flaws, I happily recommend "Materialists."  It has been too long since we've had a high profile, unapologetically romantic film with ambitions this big and from talents this bright.  

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The End of "Squid Game"

Spoilers for the first and second seasons, and the first episode of the third season ahead.

What Netflix is calling the second and third seasons of "Squid Game" were clearly conceived of as a single thirteen-episode season, and probably should be treated as such.  However, I think that the final chunk of six episodes can be discussed on its own, specifically in the way that it reveals some of the problems with trying to continue this series past the first season.  I think the ending of "Squid Game" is perfectly watchable, but it's also undeniably a disappointment.

The second season was decent enough, and ended in a good place.  Most of the interesting characters were still alive and a big, formula-breaking event had just taken place.  The first major mistake that the creators make at the start of season three is prioritizing the status quo.  In a seemingly arbitrary move, Gi-hun is allowed to survive, and the games are forced to continue with only minor consequences for everyone still alive.  The pregnant girl, Jun-Hee (Jo Yu-ri) emerges as a major protagonist at this stage, along with the old woman, Geum-Ja (Kang Ae-Shim), and the crypto guy, Myung-gi (In Si-wan).  Of the three remaining games in this season, I found the first to be very good, but the other two are just variants of games from the first season, and easy to predict.  The creators try their best to throw in some new wrinkles and hint at different outcomes, but you can tell that they're wary of actually making major changes to what worked the first time.  

Another problem is that the show doubles down on the unsuccessful elements from the first season.  Those terrible VIPs in the metallic animal masks are back, are given more screen time, and are just as awful to watch as they were in the first season.  There's been a lot of discourse around this bunch, specifically who should share the blame for their hammy performances and the obviously dubbed dialogue.  However, I'd argue that the two subplots involving the cop, In-ho, and the guard, No-eul, are just as much of a problem.  So much time is taken up with following these characters, and they aren't nearly as compelling as anyone participating in the games.   And after so many episodes of teasing about their motivations and possible connections, very little new information is revealed for either of them.  I can sort of excuse having No-eul as someone to compare and contrast against Gi-hun, but In-ho's storyline is a total dud and absolutely infuriating.  

While I'm fine with how all the ultimate resolutions played out, I found the storytelling too drawn out and repetitive.   The second and third seasons together probably should have only run nine episodes all together, the same as the first season.  The last six episodes could have easily been cut down to four.  With so much extra padding, the pacing is sluggish and the weaknesses in the writing are more obvious.  All of the characters are necessarily heightened, but the participants in the last rounds are especially broad to the point of coming across as cartoonish.  All nuance goes out the window once the end is in sight. However, there are some excellent performances here, and I particularly enjoyed Kang Ae-Shim as the old lady who makes one of the hardest decisions in the game.  Lee Jung-jae has to contend with more convoluted character contrivances, but he still does a solid job as a more bitter Gi-hun.    

The second season was good enough that I don't think it was a bad idea to continue "Squid Game" in its current form.  However, the creators weren't able to make some of their new ideas work, and they clearly didn't know what to do with at least one of the major storylines.  I suspect that it was always their intention to leave the door open for a third season, but the way they went about it left too many questions unanswered and kicked too much down the road.  At this point I don't think another season is possible without overhauling "Squid Game" completely.  The creator has already expressed that he's not interested, so for all intents and purposes, I consider "Squid Game" finished.

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