How Squid Game Reshaped Global Television Trends

When Squid Game premiered in September 2021, few in the industry predicted that a Korean survival drama would become Netflix's most-watched series launch of all time. The show, with its neon tracksuits, childhood games turned lethal, and stark social commentary, broke through language barriers and viewing habits in ways that even seasoned executives struggled to forecast. By the time the second season arrived, the series had fundamentally altered how platforms think about foreign-language content, how producers package genre, and how audiences around the world discover their next obsession.

The ripple effects of this success are still being felt across production budgets, commissioning strategies, and the cultural conversation around what "global television" actually means. From Sydney living rooms to regional streaming markets, the appetite for stories that travel across borders has never been more visible or commercially significant.

A Korean drama that spoke to every living room

Before Squid Game, Korean dramas occupied a passionate but relatively niche corner of the global streaming landscape, with dedicated fandoms in parts of Asia, Latin America, and among diaspora communities in cities like Melbourne and Sydney. What changed almost overnight was the recognition that a story rooted in hyper-local anxieties — crippling debt, housing insecurity, the widening gap between social classes — could land with viewers who had never set foot in Seoul.

The series' opening episode clocked over 111 million household views in its first 28 days, a figure that confounded early sceptics who questioned whether subtitled content could sustain that level of engagement. The numbers told a different story: audiences in Brisbane, Toronto, Berlin, and São Paulo were watching, finishing, and recommending the show with the same urgency usually reserved for prestige English-language dramas.

Non-English content steps out of the margins

For years, foreign-language series on major platforms were treated almost as a programming footnote — interesting experiments, festival darlings, or library filler. Squid Game forced a recalibration. Netflix, Disney+, and Amazon quickly announced expanded investments in Korean, Spanish, and Japanese originals, while commissioning teams in Los Angeles and Madrid started hunting for the next transnational breakout.

This shift is visible in Australia too. Stan has ramped up its local commissioning while also acquiring more European thrillers, and the local arm of Paramount+ has leaned into bilingual crime series. The logic mirrors what Squid Game proved: viewers will follow great storytelling regardless of the language on screen, provided the platform makes discovery easy.

Algorithms, subtitles, and the new discovery problem

One under-appreciated reason Squid Game travelled so well is technical rather than creative. Netflix's recommendation engine surfaced the show prominently in territories where Korean content had rarely been promoted. The platform also rolled out the entire nine-episode first season simultaneously, betting that binge behaviour would overcome any hesitation about subtitles.

That bet paid off, and competitors have taken note. In Australia, where households now juggle an average of three paid streaming subscriptions, the discovery layer has become just as important as the content itself. Features like personalised rows, "because you watched" rails, and one-click dubbing in multiple languages have all been sharpened in the wake of the show's success. The result is a viewing environment where the language of origin matters less than the quality of the hook in the first ten minutes.

Universal themes wrapped in local texture

The genius of Squid Game lies in how it balances universal themes with distinctly Korean imagery. The marbles game evokes childhood in any culture; the pink-hued dormitory and the masked VIPs draw on local folk horror traditions. This combination — a globally legible emotional core wrapped in specific cultural texture — has become a template that international producers now chase.

Australian creators have taken note. Series like Bump and Heartbreak High proved that locally produced stories can travel when they nail that balance, and emerging productions are increasingly being packaged with international co-production partners in mind. The lesson from Squid Game is that specificity is not a barrier; it is often the very thing that makes a show exportable.

A shift in prestige, awards, and critical conversation

The cultural validation followed the commercial success. Squid Game became the first Korean series to win a Primetime Emmy for lead acting, and its nomination for best drama marked a turning point in how the industry's most established institutions engage with non-English work. Awards bodies, critics, and trade publications have all broadened their coverage since.

This is reflected in Australian coverage as well, with international dramas now receiving more ink in the Sydney Morning Herald's culture sections and on podcasts from the ABC. The conversation has expanded from "is this any good?" to "what does this tell us about where television is heading?" — a shift that Squid Game arguably accelerated more than any other recent release.

What comes after the saturated market

Success has predictably bred imitation. Netflix alone has released multiple Korean survival series in the wake of the original, and the global pipeline is now crowded with high-concept, high-stakes thrillers hoping to replicate the formula. The market risks saturation, and some commentators have noted that viewer fatigue is already setting in for the most derivative copycats.

Still, the broader lesson endures. Television is no longer organised around the assumption that a show's primary audience speaks the same language as its characters. Platforms, producers, and audiences have all crossed a threshold that Why The Wire Is Still Considered One of the Best TV Shows Ever Made also navigated in its own era of premium cable, proving that boundary-pushing storytelling tends to find its audience eventually.

The Australian angle in a borderless industry

Australia sits in an unusual position within this globalised industry. Local production houses benefit from Screen Australia funding and the producer tax offset, but they also compete for attention on platforms dominated by overseas content. Recent years have seen local creators respond by leaning into distinctive Australian settings, slang, and social concerns, from the streets of western Sydney to the coastal towns of Victoria.

Regulatory shifts have helped too. The Australian Content Standard, administered by the Australian Communications and Media Authority, continues to require streaming services to invest in local production, while new rules around prominence ensure Australian titles are surfaced to local subscribers. This combination of funding, regulation, and creative ambition means Australian stories now have a clearer path to global breakout than at almost any previous point — provided they can capture the same alchemy of local texture and universal resonance that Squid Game delivered.

Series Primary language Platform Approx. household reach
Squid Game Korean Netflix 111M+ in 28 days (S1)
Money Heist Spanish Netflix 65M+ households (Part 4)
Dark German Netflix Strong European and US uptake
Lupin French Netflix 76M+ households (Part 1)
Shogun Japanese/English FX/Hulu Major awards sweep
La Brea English (AU prod.) Nine/Stan Strong local ratings

Common threads in the shows that travelled

Looking across this new wave of global hits, a handful of structural and creative elements appear again and again. These are the features that have most consistently helped shows break out of their home markets.

Habits that shaped Australia's streaming era

The way Australians actually watch television has also changed in step with these global trends, and a few patterns have become especially pronounced since Squid Game first dropped.

Together, these habits have helped turn Australia into one of the more dynamic testing grounds for the new era of borderless television, where the next breakout can just as easily come from Seoul, Stockholm, or South Yarra.