Five Korean Netflix Shows You Need To Watch After Squid Game (Patreon)

I live in South Korea now. Not literally.

Like everyone else on Earth circa 2021, I became completely obsessed with Squid Game when it launched on Netflix, whilst really unsure as to how or why that was happening. On paper, it just shouldn’t work - or at least not so well as to become a global cultural phenomenon overnight. It’s odd, brutal with a capital B, heart-warming, stylish, stylised, funny… At the time it felt like a complete one-off. Now, with season three finally released and my time with Gi-hun almost at a close (I’m starting TONIGHT), I realise how Squid Game was my gateway to a whole new fascination with Korean TV. And I don’t just mean the prestige dramas with sweeping storylines and impeccable tailoring (I don’t think I’ve watched any of those). Really, I mean weird stuff. Inventive stuff. Shows that feel like no one else in the world would have thought to make them. Shows that look like game shows but are actually psychological thrillers. Or cooking competitions that become existential war zones. So, in part to hopefully expose a few new fans to some frankly incredible television, in part to make me feel like the hours (and HOURS) of subtitles I’ve read were not wasted, I present you with the latest edition of the Civilian Observer - and five Korean TV shows on Netflix I’m going to need you to watch. Please.

1. Physical: 100
This was one of the first places I started in the wake of Squid Game. The goal of Physical: 100 is to determine what constitutes the ‘perfect’ human body. The (extremely scientific) method they choose boils down to pitting 100 of the most stunningly fit and healthy human beings you’ve ever seen against each other in a series of gruelling physical challenges that make me sweat just thinking about them. Olympic gymnasts, military paratroopers, wrestlers, ballet dancers, MMA fighters, mountain climbers, a fireman… All shapes and sizes, all jaw-droppingly amazing. It’s enough to rouse even the most overweight thirty-something dad-of-one based in Bath into some kind of self-improvement. I imagine. From now on my body is a temple. Food is fuel. Might do a burpee.

It looks like something from The Hunger Games if The Hunger Games had a CrossFit sponsorship. The challenges are brutal, ingenious, sometimes borderline absurd - often requiring much more than merely physical strength. But what really got me wasn’t the spectacle - it was the sheer respect everyone had for each other. There’s so little trash talk. So much admiration. You come for the chaos, but stay for the mutual awe. In a weird way, it feels wholesome.

There’s also something thrilling about seeing physicality framed not just as strength, but as versatility, balance, endurance, and grace. The show asks: "What kind of body is best - and what does “best” even mean?" By the time the final challenge rolls around, you’re less concerned about who’s going to win and more impressed that anyone ever could.

If you're still not sold, this show includes a “thought track” by which I mean they have dubbed supposed or imagined thoughts onto footage of people not saying anything at all. “Wow, she’s so strong.” says one contestant of another without moving their lips. How do they know they were thinking this? I have no idea. Is it amazing? Yes it is. Apparently this is a common thing in Korean TV and I am here for it. 

2. The Devil’s PlanThis one is an instant recommendation for any fans of mind games, strategy, and watching extremely smart people slowly lose their grip on reality. It’s a reality game show where players live together in a bunker-like house and face daily brain-busting challenges. Think The Circle, if The Circle was hosted by a trickster god and designed by the Saw guy on a sudoku bender. Honestly, the games are so complex it takes a solid 15-minute animated presentation to explain the rules. Heaven.

What elevates The Devil’s Plan is its commitment to building a narrative. Alliances constantly shift - but unlike in most Western reality TV, there’s no performative backstabbing or manufactured feuds. Everyone is clever, everyone is ruthless, but the drama comes from the games themselves, not from the people being nasty to each other.

Also - minor spoiler - at some point, the game takes a turn that is genuinely INCREDIBLE. I couldn’t look away. 

3. Culinary Class WarsOK… it's a cooking show, but it’s also a class struggle. Literally.

Culinary Class Wars divides contestants into two groups, the “upper class” team and the “lower class” team, based on their careers so far - imagine a Michelin-starred chef vs a dinner lady and you’re pretty much there.

From there, it’s truly inventive challenges all the way - things you’ve never seen before, never knew you wanted to see before! The spectacle is completely unbelievable - this is a cooking show, it has no right to be this epic. At one point a genuine mountain of tofu is lowered into the kitchen and chefs are tasked with continuously inventing incredible tofu recipes on the fly FOR HOURS - a test of creativity and endurance. Somehow these chefs actually made me want to eat tofu!

Best of all, and much like Physical: 100, is the respect on display here. Chefs are not well-known for being magnanimous, but the respect for one another even in the heat of battle (and of the kitchen) elevates this show far above the sum of its parts. 

4. My NameIt’s not all reality TV, OK? If you’re looking for a little more narrative meat, My Name is a gritty, violent revenge thriller about a woman who infiltrates a criminal organization - and then the police - to find the person who killed her father. It’s a bit like Kill Bill meets The Departed, but Korean, stylish, and very angry. 

What hooked me with this one was the lead performance. Han So-hee plays the main character like she’s made of steel and smoke. It’s the kind of emotionally rich action series that reminds you just how flexible genre can be. There’s betrayal. There’s heartbreak. There’s a hallway fight scene that I think even Rob would nod sagely at. It also has a killer title track that I listen to constantly whilst eating tofu between burpees.

If you want something with big emotions, twisted loyalties, and a heart that still beats beneath all the blood, this is it. 

5. Parasyte: The GreyFinally, dessert, Parasyte: The Grey - an existential sci-fi horror with a side of body-snatching panic. Based somewhat (I’ve read) on the iconic (I’ve read) Japanese manga Parasyte, this adaptation is (apparently) a full reimagining - same terrifying premise, entirely new characters, and a fresh location: a small Korean city where something… alien has landed.

Look, I can’t really confirm or deny that first paragraph, but what I can tell you is that it’s slick, tense, and surprisingly emotional. There are the obvious questions of identity and survival, but also an exploration into what it means to host something you can’t control - and I don’t necessarily just mean parasites... Jeon So-nee is phenomenal in the lead role, playing a character who’s literally sharing her body with something inhuman and still somehow making that relatable. Hang on - do I have a parasite?!

What I love about Parasyte: The Grey is that it doesn’t just go for jump scares or gore (though, yes, they are there too). It’s concerned with atmosphere. And in true Korean TV fashion, it still finds time for tenderness, grief, and even a little dark humour.

So What Is It About Korean TV?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Why are these shows - these specific, inventive, high-stakes Korean shows - so irresistible to me? I think in part it’s that Korean TV isn’t afraid to take itself seriously, even when it’s being totally unhinged. The stakes are high. The emotions are raw. The concepts are wild. And yet, somehow, it all feels grounded - even when the characters are being hunted by parasitic aliens or buried under a mountain of tofu. 

There’s a creative bigness - a willingness to blend genres, to throw philosophy into your horror and class warfare into your baking show. These series feel like they trust the audience to follow along and to invest emotionally even when the structure is unconventional, or in the case of The Devil's Plan, quite bloated and unwieldy.

And maybe that’s what I’ve loved most about falling into this particular rabbit hole: it feels like TV that believes in you. It doesn’t hand-hold. It doesn’t water things down. It invites you into a world that might be chaotic, strange, or unfamiliar - and assumes you’ll want to stay. And, clearly… I do.

With Squid Game back on the menu, I can’t wait to see what other corners of Korean television I end up wandering into next. If these shows are anything to go by, it’s going to be one hell of a ride.