1x04 Stick to the Team

[7.7/10] The theme for this one isn’t difficult to suss out. It’s all there in the title. This one is about group dynamics, specifically the benefits of working together with other like-minded folks to collaborate and protect one another, but also the dangers of how a few thugs working in concert can create chaos and cruelty en masse as an organized gang.

The interesting thing about that dichotomy is, for now at least, both approaches work within the world of the show. The mob boss (whose name we learn is Deok-Su) gathers together his crew of thugs to limit their competition in other games. The handlers know and expect this, even facilitate it. Their intimidating presence -- cutting for seconds in the lunch line, killing the man who dares point that out, and hassling the people who look askance at their antics -- attracts allies like the Doctor and scares away others who might think to mess with them.

They are, in short, the perfect Hobbesian competitors, treating this war of all against all as one that can only be won by ruthlessness and craven self-interest. This is, despite the strict rules, a sort of lawless place where such antics go unpunished. So they take their extra portions of food, instigate and withstand the night of terror, and find the strongest men in the group to ensure their victory in the tug of war.

But “Stick to the Team” also presents an alternate model, one of cooperation, collaboration, mutual defense. Gi-hun, Sang-woo, Ali, the Pickpocket (whose name is Sae-byeok), and Number 1 form their own pact, one founded on kindness and shared protection rather than brutality and self-interest. It is as successful at keeping them alive and competitive, but it takes craftiness, altruism, and most importantly, working together as one. Their souls stay clean, and their hearts keep beating, which is more than can be said for Deok-su and his goons.

That’s not to say it doesn’t come with its own degree of panic and terror. While we’ve seen shades of it before, the riot in the bunkroom is the most Lord of the Flies moment in Squid Game so far, which is saying something. While it was clear from the first filing of the piggy bank that the amount of any player’s winnings depended on how many other players fell, this is the first time we’ve seen (a.) death outside of the arena increasing the pot and (b.) players trying to kill one another to reduce competition and raise the prize money.

Deok-su’s murderous midnight attacks feel extra craven in that context, beyond even the usual intimidation and privilege-taking you might expect from someone who found success (for a time, at least) in the mob. And the gamemasters feel extra horrible for spurring it, deliberately starving our heroes to increase tensions, and planning in advance for this “special game” that affirms this isn’t the first time they’ve pulled this type of event off.

But apart from the broader philosophy of the riot, it’s also a purely horrifying set piece. The choice to flash the lights on and off, strobe style, creates a sense of unpredictability and panic in the midst of these assaults. There’s a chaotic energy, where who’s located where, who’s on the attack, and what they’re brandishing to accomplish it are unpredictable and come out of nowhere. These visual choices put the audience in the shoes of the players, squinting between the flashes to make out who’s friend and who’s foe amid the tumult.

Yet, what stops the panic is Number One, speaking truth to those scrapping and hiding and looking out for themselves. I still don’t trust him, as I think we’re headed toward some kind of dark secret. But if there’s a secondary motif to this one, it’s that skills matter beyond pure strength and physical prowess. Number One may be old. He may be losing his mind. But it’s his voice of authority and experience that calms the riot enough that the gamemasters intervene. It’s his ability to keep watch that helps protect their group during the night. It’s his knowledge and strategy that give Gi-hun’s crew a fighting change in the tug of war game. Deok-su is a blunt instrument; but the real “Old Man” is a more fragile, but precise tool to survive and flourish.

Not falling in the game seems that much more vital when we see that some of the circle-heads are running an off-the-books organ harvesting racket. I have mixed feelings about the idea. On the one hand, it adds another dimension to the show’s storylines, with people who are part of the authority that makes the players’ lives hell, but who have interests and goals outside of the pure functioning of the game. It also gives Hwang something to do apart from being a passive observer or running into similar “Why aren’t you doing your job?” exchanges every episode.

On the other hand, the themes of constant monitoring and surveillance seem to be at odds with any of these schemes working. Maybe it’s possible that some of the circle-heads could be trading info for assistance with one of the players. Maybe it’s possible that Hwang could masquerade as a square-head without anyone getting wise to it. And Hwang accidentally getting himself caught up in a conspiracy-within-a-conspiracy has pulpy appeal. But I’m really hoping that eventually, the show reveals that the Frontman or others were aware of this the whole time, and allowed it to proceed as part of their objectives, because otherwise it strains credulity that they could get away with all of this.

That said, I like how it connects to the idea that even in the nameless, faceless ranks of the managers, soldiers, and workers (whose identity-less status makes me think their ranks may be made up of people who’ve “graduated” from the game, to show oppressee becoming oppressor), there are cliques and circles of common interest, people who have to work together to make their plans succeed, something complicated by Circlehead 29’s mysterious absence.

Therein lies the problem with Deok-su’s group. It’s fabricated not on cooperation, but on personal success at any cost, meaning they won’t endure one of their allies’ weaknesses if it could weaken their chances too. We see that in brutal terms with No. 212, who does Deok-su’s bidding in the riot, sleeps with him, and extracts a promise of non-betrayal in an otherwise tender moment. But when push comes to shove (literally), he won’t tell her what the next game is despite having learned the info from the Doctor, and even kicks her out of their group for tug of war because he fears she’ll be a liability. That’s how such thuggish associations go. There’s no loyalty, only using people up until they’re no longer useful.

We’ll see what kind of point the show wants to make, but I suspect the idea will be that the moral will be that such “teams” are ultimately futile and self-defeating. At the very least, we see in No. 212 that, a la Goodfellas, they are unreliable, ready to cast you out as soon as you become a liability, no matter what intimacies or promises have been shared.

But the good guys, such as they are, have something to offer. Maybe Gi-hun is right when he tells to Sae-byeok that you don’t join up because you want to, but because you have to. There’s safety in numbers, even if you’re not best friends. And for what it’s worth, that seems to be Sang-woo’s philosophy. Even as he participates in their group, he keeps info her discerns about what’s next to himself, and looks to only bring in men to their team for the next game (which speaks to the other secondary theme of sexism that runs through this one). Maybe you could argue he’s practical, urging Ali to hide what happened to his hand, lest people think he’s weak, but he’s also self-serving, albeit in a much stealthier way than Doek-su.

And yet, they save one another’s lives during the fracas in the bunkhouse, fighting on behalf of one another and making it out the other side relatively unscathed. In the most selfless thing he’s done yet, Gi-Hun calls out for Number 1, trying to make sure he’s okay in all of this. Even when they face a team of all men, and others want to proceed purely on strength, it’s their strategy of working together, approaching the situation with nuance and cooperation, that gives them a fighting chance to avoid the guillotine plummet below.

That too is an exciting sequence, one filled with split-screen cuts to the players’ faces to gauge their reactions, and strong compositions of each team of tuggers and the flag in the middle veering from one side to the next. But what it conveys are ten men and women, united in purpose, finding a way to punch above their weight through their unity. I can’t say that will win them the ultimate prize, and I expect more infighting and betrayal to come. But it serves them now, gives them a fighting chance and something to trust, when everyone else is at the mercy when might makes right.