Squid Game Creators Trim VIP Roles and Reveal Intense Jump Rope Production

3 July 2025

Netflix

The final season of Squid Game underwent significant editing refinement as the creative team made the decision to remove substantial footage of the VIP spectators, believing it lessened the tension during the games, while simultaneously investing major effort in the brutal Jump Rope sequence, which demanded precision in production and performance.

Editor Nam Na‑young revealed that early versions of the season included far more scenes featuring the wealthy VIPs watching and wagering on the players. “Actually there were more scenes with the VIPs,” she shared, but during editing she cut them extensively, citing concerns that their presence disrupted the emotional flow centered on the contestants’ struggles. The emphasis was deliberately shifted to ensure viewers remained grounded in the visceral experience of the players rather than being distracted by the detached opulence of the elite audience.

In a behind‑the‑scenes feature, creator‑director Hwang Dong‑hyuk described how the challenge of the Jump Rope game led to meticulous production design. The set evoked nostalgia, drawing inspiration from a Korean train station where travelers embark on journeys home, a visual narrative element intended to contrast innocence with danger. Production designer Chae Kyoung‑sun filled the platform with sweeping childhood imagery and giant childlike robot figures named Young‑hee and Chul‑soo, designed to whisk contestants toward a fatal plunge if they misjudged the swing of the rope.

The jump rope itself was realized with CGI, supported by rhythmic audio cues during filming to guide actors across the structure safely despite its five‑foot elevation. Actor Lee Jung‑jae confirmed that no safety wires were used and admitted the elevation alone was enough to evoke real fear. Despite the artificial rope, actors had to synchronize their jumps precisely, staying in time with the audio prompts or face a dangerous fall.

EW’s coverage also highlights thematic resonance in the design choices. The train station metaphor served emotional purposes, echoing the games’ unpleasant juxtaposition of childhood innocence and human cruelty. The robot “VIPs” embodied this motif, dressed to resemble textbook dolls and play children heading home, yet they became twisted enforcers of mortal peril.

These production details and editing choices surface amid ever‑rising viewer anticipation surrounding the fate of the Jump Rope game. As readers on Tom’s Guide noted, this installment is among the most harrowing segments in the final season. Episode 3 of Season 3 spotlights the deadly rope challenge while revealing deeper tragedy as the game intersects with personal stories including birth, loss, and sacrifice. One poignant moment sees protagonist Gi‑hun heroically strapped to a newborn, racing across the narrow path, only for tragedy to unfold in unexpected ways.

“Squid Game” has always thrived on contrasts: child‑like games turned deadly, stark commentary on socio‑economic disparity, and visuals that marry vibrancy with violence. The decision to minimize screen time for the VIPs reflects a careful balancing act. Rather than showing their haunting presence as observers, the show now places the raw human drama front and center.

The intricate Jump Rope set becomes both a physical and emotional battleground, one elevated by production design and cinematography that mimic childhood memories platform architecture, bright lighting, and robotic figures only to teeter on the edge of catastrophe. The effort paid off: media outlets consider the sequence one of the most challenging in the show's production history, and critics have highlighted its cinematic weight as contributing to the season's emotional climax.

Fans have responded to the toxic glamour represented by the VIPs with polarized views. While some commentators online mock the wooden dialogue and caricatured performances, others see the stylized depiction as intentional, emphasizing how extreme wealth can be dehumanizing. Director Hwang reportedly directed VIP actors to act as awkward and distant as possible to reinforce their psychological distance from players and their cruel entertainment.

With the third and final season now streaming, audiences are diving deeper into its intense final chapters. The Jump Rope episode has emerged as a thematic pivot point. Intensity builds not only in the gameplay but in production choices, editing, and visual storytelling crafted to provoke the viewer’s emotions. The calculated cutting of VIP scenes, the elaborate construction of the physical set, and the compelling on‑screen tension illustrate the creators’ intent to maximize immersion.

Ultimately, the third season proves that Squid Game remains a global cultural force not just for its story but for how that story is told. Every frame, cut, and cue is curated. By removing narrative distractions and focusing on structural tension, the show channels its message in a single visceral punch. This wage of life and death plays out not only in the script but in every design choice and editorial decision.