Hwang Dong-hyuk, who gained fame with Netflix’s ‘Squid Game’, is working on another, even more violent project. But the South Korean director says his work isn’t about cruelty—it’s about highlighting humanity, and decision-making in extreme circumstances
Hwang Dong-hyuk became a household name following the global phenomenon Squid Game, the dystopian thriller on Netflix where hundreds of cash-strapped people risk their lives to play deadly children’s games for a multibillion-won cash prize. Given the tentative title of his upcoming project, Killing Old People Club, due for release next year, one might imagine Hwang revels in violence for violence’s sake—but the South Korean director insists that is not the case.
Inspired by an essay by Italian author and philosopher Umberto Eco that examines deep-seated generational tensions across the globe, Killing Old People Club (or KO Club) revolves around young people who violently target and eliminate the elderly to resolve the societal and economic burdens of an ageing population. Hwang draws a parallel to the 2016 Brexit referendum in the UK, noting the resentment felt by younger generations whose futures were decided by an older demographic.
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Above Hwang Dong-hyuk, the director of ‘Squid Game’, attended the Asian Film Awards in Hong Kong 2026 (Photo: Tatler Hong Kong/Hungmc)
“In South Korea too, we are seeing this. There is a lot of negative emotion gathering,” Hwang says, adding that there is a rise of derogatory slang being used by young people to attack elderly people. He views this not as a country-specific issue, but a global consequence of increasing life expectancy and the perceived lack of opportunity for younger generations.
Killing Old People Club, he says, is his vision of what happens when conflict is resolved through extreme means, and admits it will likely contain more violent scenes than anything he has filmed before. However, he is quick to clarify that nothing is done for the sake of shock value. “It’s not about showing violence; it’s about what happens when extreme conflict turns into an extreme situation.”
Violence has served as a narrative tool for the director—a metaphor for the tragedies and disintegration that can occur in a hyper-competitive society. It was this same philosophy that informed Squid Game; but when he first conceived the series in 2008, the “absurd” situations he imagined for the show were far removed from reality. By 2019, when he started production, the gap between fiction and reality had vanished. “The pandemic emerged, and the world began to undergo immense changes. Disputes—be they religious, social, human or regional—became increasingly severe, and I witnessed many unfortunate events occurring across the globe. Wars and killings [are a constant throughout] history. [Global events] made me feel that the world was becoming more and more like the world of Squid Game. While this added a sense of realism to the work, I find it quite tragic.”

Above Hwang Dong-hyuk, the director of ‘Squid Game’ (Photo: Tatler Hong Kong/Hungmc)
Hwang argues that the violence in the series represents the reality of those living without a safety net. “In the game, if you lose, you are killed with a gun. In society, if you lose in the competition [of life], you fall—that is ‘social death’,” he says, referring to the concept of losing one’s social identity, connectedness and well-being. By setting these brutal acts in “kid-friendly” environments, Hwang creates a contrast that heightens the dramatic impact and forces the audience to confront the cruelty of the system itself.
Despite the brutality of the show’s storytelling, Hwang insists that his primary focus is always on humanity and the choices individuals make when pushed to the limit. He points to his 2017 historical epic The Fortress as a prime example of this preoccupation. The film is set in 1636, during the Qing invasion of Joseon, Korea’s imperial dynasty from 1392 to 1910. “Both The Fortress and Squid Game are about choices,” Hwang says. The film depicts a king trapped in a mountain citadel, forced to choose between a humiliating surrender to save his people or a dignified death that would lead to their slaughter. In Squid Game, the protagonist Seong Gi-hun represents the struggle to maintain one’s humanity in a world designed to strip it away. Hwang often filmed Seong in close-up or slow motion to emphasise his internal conflict, confusion, pain and hesitation when he is forced to choose between betraying his friends for his own survival or saving them out of conscience.
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Above Hwang Dong-hyuk, the director of ‘Squid Game’ (Photo: Tatler Hong Kong/Hungmc)

Above Hwang Dong-hyuk, the director of ‘Squid Game’ (Photo: Tatler Hong Kong/Hungmc)
The director’s principle is to never lose sight of “affection and concern for people”, even in the darkest of tales, and believes that portraying profound tragedy is the most effective way to reveal the true nature of the human spirit. Take Squid Game character Kang Sae-byeok for example, a North Korean defector who joins the game to buy her scattered family’s entrance into South Korea. If most of the players cheat and kill without hesitation to get to the next rounds, Kang serves as the director’s champion, representing kindness, strength and courage. Not only does she show mercy and rescue Seong several times, even when she is also struggling, she also makes a pact with Seong that whoever wins will take care of the other person’s family.
While Hwang’s productions are mostly Korean scripts and set in Korea, they resonate globally. He credits this to his six years living in the US, where he studied film at the University of Southern California. He took away far more than technical skills, which he believes could be learnt anywhere; the experience gave him the broad vision he needed to navigate cultures new to him. “In the US, I had to survive in a culture where I didn’t know the language or the people,” he recalls. Being an outsider helped him understand that while cultural contexts differ, human emotions are universal. He was also encouraged by his professor at USC to look within for stories, rather than just making something that looks like a Hollywood success. Hwang in turn encourages young filmmakers to seek out these “shocks” to their own cultural systems. “It’s not just about learning film technology; it’s about learning about people and cultures. That is what allowed me to launch Squid Game on the global market,” he says.
As one of the leading figures of hallyu, or the “Korean Wave”, Hwang feels a sense of responsibility for the future of the industry. He says, with a touch of irony, that, while his Netflix hit is seen as a highlight of Korean success, he never explicitly set out to make a hallyu work—he simply wanted to tell the stories that interested him. That being said, he would like to see more balance in the film industry globally. “For a long time, the dominant culture has been western,” he says. He envisions a future where East Asian cultures— specifically those of China, Japan and South Korea— collaborate and grow together to create a cultural force that can stand alongside the west.
Speaking at the Asian Film Awards in Hong Kong earlier this year, he pointed to the success of film festivals across Asia as a vital step towards this goal. “We haven’t had enough exchange or synchronisation in the past,” he says, commenting on how he hopes to see stories by and about the Asian experience for the global audience. “I hope we can move faster so that it’s not just western culture, but eastern culture spreading across the globe.
“I want to create stories that make people think, and I hope that through these lessons, history does not repeat its darkest moments.”
Credits
Photography: Hungmc
Photography Assistant: Issac Chen
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