Television | Money
‘The 8 Show’: Entertainment Never Ends
Review and analysis of a show about the never-ending cycle of entertainment
William Shakespeare writes in The Seven Ages of Man:
“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players.”
This was all I could think about as I was watching ‘The 8 Show’, mostly because it begins with the modern classic story of a man running away from loan sharks because he invested all his money in something shady. That sounds too familiar. *cough* Squid Game *cough*
But that’s not all. The man then proceeds to try and commit suicide, which of course doesn’t go as planned. Eventually, he gets invited to a mysterious game show. (Major Spoilers Ahead!)
Life is A Stage
We all know that life is a performance most times, where we are all assigned roles in the form of relationships or social standings. In the same way, The 8 Show is about 8 people who have almost given up on life, and are invited to be on a mysterious show.
There is not much described about the show other than how all 8 people had to randomly pick a numbered card and then move on backstage. Yes, backstage. Life is a stage, but reality is backstage, as seen in the show when all the characters move behind the curtains. It’s where we all let our guard down and stop performing for a while.
The set for this show is all made of plastic, with a fake pool and everything. It is a fake reality show, but a real survival show. There are 8 floors. The numbered cards represent which floor the 8 participants will have to stay for the entirety of this show.
Throughout the show, these 8 characters are only referred to as their floor numbers because their floor number is all they amount to. It is dehumanizing, but this hierarchy plays a vital role in segregating them for the sake of the game.
There are multiple cameras spread around the entire set, as well as inside the rooms of each participant. Each room is mostly empty, with only an intercom — to order anything they want to buy — and a small elevator — which delivers those items. The room has nothing else to offer, aside from extreme scopophobia from all the cameras inside of the room. There is, literally, no need for that many angles, but whatever.
Time is Money
I’ve had adults telling me ‘time is money’ all my life, and how I shouldn’t waste it away. If there’s anything we can’t have back, it’s time. We cannot turn it back, we cannot stop it, and we surely cannot fast-forward or slow it down. We have to live through each minute, no matter how agonizing it is.
This show embraces this idea but values the time of those on higher floors more than those on the lower floors.
While our main protagonist, Floor 3, earns about 30,000 Won (almost $22 USD) for each minute, Floor 8 earns 340,000 Won (almost $250 USD), which makes her the richest amongst everyone there.
The clear divide in their earnings isn’t the only thing that separates them. It is also their mentality. While Floor 8 has spent almost all of her initial earnings on things she doesn’t need, the ones on the lower floors refrained from spending much.
Floor 3 has spent only a little from his earning to buy newspapers and cardboard boxes instead of blankets or even a mattress. Part of the reason is because of the odd rules of the show where regular things are ten times as expensive as they are in the real world. But then again, inflation exists in the real world, and we’re always moments away from facing incredible price hikes in everything.
Symbolism is Everything
Let’s start with the show’s logo. At a glance, it looks like a regular logo with just the show name presented. But as the 8 rotates, it becomes ∞ — an infinity symbol. This is so clear and smartly utilized. The show is never-ending because these 8 individuals cannot escape being a source of entertainment. And while we, the viewers, are always aware of the cameras on the set of the show, our 8 participants sometimes forget about them entirely. Or perhaps they choose to ignore the cameras when it benefits them.
The aspect ratio also plays a vital role in separating the fake show from the real one when it switches from the 16:9 ratio to the 1:1 ratio. It only changes from 1:1 to 16:9 when all 8 of our participants get backstage and into the show, and changes back to 1:1 whenever we see their lives outside of the set.
You might be familiar with the 1:1 ratio on Instagram. It’s a perfect square and is usually used on social media, while the 16:9 ratio is used for film and television. The switches between these two ratios wouldn’t matter much if they weren’t perfectly placed and timed with the scenes. It’s obvious that the square ratio shows us what we see on social media, centered around a single person, while the 16:9 ratio shows more of the context. Whenever we see the square ratio, we only see one of the 8 individuals outside of the game and in the real world.
There’s also the building where all 8 were taken to, in a limo, at the beginning of this entire show. Oddly, that also holds meaning since it looks like a theatre as each participant goes up to the stage to select a card with a number on it. And after picking a card, they all move backstage.
These 8 are just players no matter how they make the power dynamics work amongst themselves. In the grand scheme of things, they are trapped on the set with each other while they are broadcast live to an audience we will never know. There is a timer showing how long they will be there, but the show will end if someone amongst them dies. Their time on the show also increases whenever the 8 do something entertaining. It’s a show, so that makes sense, right? Who would want to watch a show that’s boring?
The Perfect Hierarchy
Throughout the show, Floor 8 plays the perfect villain since she has all the power. She gets to decide if she wants to share the free food and water with the levels below her, and she rakes in an abundant amount of money in an hour, as compared to how little the others on the lower floors make.
Floor 6 acts as the perfect lapdog, ready to side with floor 8 because it ensures comfort. He is also quite the villain himself, but while Floor 8 and 6 are clear about their intentions, Floor 7 and 4 ally with both sides as double agents. While being in the top levels, Floor 7 still keeps a good reputation with the ones on the lower levels. The same goes for Floor 4, who only goes along with the people that help her out when things seem difficult. Her actions make more sense when she mentions how she sees herself as a player in the game, rather than a human in a strange situation.
Even though they had picked their cards randomly, it doesn’t feel like a coincidence that the ones with the survival mindset ended up in the lower floors. Floors 1 to 4 are all seen working odd jobs in their flashbacks, while the upper floors all seem to be faring better than them in their own flashbacks.
Despite everything, however, their hierarchy seems to fit in place sooner than expected when the upper floors begin to take advantage of the ones below them. The decision doesn’t weigh heavy on their minds. They don’t feel bad for being cruel. Sometimes, it feels as though they don’t even remember that they are being watched by an invisible audience.
Cruelty and exploitation comes naturally to them, and clearly without any remorse.
When it All Goes Dark
All 8 individuals are ‘players’. No one is better off despite their obvious conflicts, because they all feed our society’s need to be entertained. Conflicts draw more of our attention because we all want to see what a person is capable of doing when they are cornered.
Everyone enjoys a novelty act. Seeing something unexpected is entertaining to us. Yes, comedy grabs our attentions, but so does sex and violence. And the 8 participants feed our need to be entertained all throughout the show.
Floor 1 is the most affected by their social disparity though, since he earns the least, and when he does make enough to change floors (which is possible but at a steep price), the game shows him the stark reality of his situation. For the price of 1 billion won, the only thing he receives is a price list for all the floors, which all cost more than a measly billion won.
The system is rigged to favor the ones at the top, and to keep the ones below right there at the bottom.
But this doesn’t stop Floor 1 from taking the entire show hostage, and tying up his 7 companions. He gives them, as well as the audience, a show which literally ends everything, including his own life.
Floor 1 dies, not because of his greed but because of his necessity. He dies because he needed money for his daughter’s surgery. This had led him to join this show, and it was what led him to earn them all enough time so he could make more money with that time. But his time isn’t worth it, even if he gives everyone a show to remember.
Seeing Floor 1 climbing high up on the tightrope and then falling into a large fire tells us enough of how tragic life is.
Every one of us is walking along an endless tightrope, balancing ourselves so we don’t fall to our doom. There are only a few of us who aim for more and use the tightrope to jump higher. But our attempts to go higher is a novelty act for people already above us. It’s thrilling to see someone risk their own lives for their own betterment. It’s exciting to see someone fail, which is what happens to Floor 1, and why the audience rewards his fall with a large amount of time.
But Floor 1 has always been at a disadvantage. A minute of his time spent on the show earns him a measly 10,000 won ($7.32 USD to be exact). He still earns less than everyone else on the show, despite earning them the most time.
Oddly, his extreme injuries are what move the others forward, and they all work to finally end the show. Floor 3 and 2 actively go forth in destroying all the cameras surrounding them.
The last camera is inside the elevator situated in the common area, right in front of them. This moment is when everything begins to feel real, as Floor 3 stares directly at the camera — at us — and then shoots.
Who is the Real Audience?
As Floor 3 finally leaves the set of the show and comes back to the stage where everything had begun, it is clear who the real audience of this show is. It’s us. All of us. Just as the screen would go black and credits would begin to roll, we would also stop watching. We would also be bored and find something else to invest our time in.
We all must be questioning how people could willingly participate in such a horrible experience, but if we were also in their positions, we would do the same.
To say that we would’ve done something differently when not having experienced being in such a circumstance is very ignorant. Especially when we know how difficult it has become to survive in this world where content is everything.
The realization of us being the real audience came to me as soon as Floor 3 shoots the last camera and everything goes dark. When there is nothing seen on the screen, the doors finally open to release the remaining 7 players from the show. This can be a direct representation to how we, as people, view content. We let go of the content which does not entertain us anymore. The same could be said about content creators.
We follow personas of people online and their works because they fascinate us or give us some kind of entertainment, but we will unfollow someone when their content doesn’t entertain us anymore.
It’s the same with our 8 participants. They have stopped being entertaining, mostly because one of them has died, and some of the others will never be the same again. It’s a transaction, in it’s purest form.
We are Just a Number
Despite how hopeless the show might make us feel with all of its themes, it does get one thing extremely right and manages to make it a little hopeful.
All 8 of our participants are referred to as their floor numbers throughout the entire show. It’s only when we see flashbacks do we get to know some of their names but their names aren’t as important as we might think, because by now we have gotten to know them by their floor numbers.
The show indirectly let’s us know that all of us are merely numbers, not just these 8 players. And no matter how bleak it sounds, that’s not incorrect.
When viewed collectively, as a species, we are all just numbers. Statistics in a demographic.
But what makes this reality hurt a little less is knowing that despite being a mere number, we might be significant enough to someone to be remembered. Even as a number.
Floor 1 is remembered even when the show ends and they all return to their real lives. Floor 3 uses up all of his earnings to arrange a funeral and advertise it on billboards so that the other participants could attend. Despite Floor 1 losing his life, his death was the reason the other 7 got to escape the show, and with a huge payout. This is what his life amounted to. It’s depressing because in his life, he was also serving these people as they exploited him. And in his death, he had served them freedom.
It’s a reality that is unfair, but it is one which is real.
The ending of the show gives us more to think about than to give us conclusions. The aspect ratio which was used for the real world changes into the 16:9 ratio when Floors 2, 3, 4, and 5 exit Floor 1’s funeral.
This sudden change is followed by the camera now seeing them from a bird’s eye view.
This could be interpreted in two ways. This scene’s symbolism could represent how this story is just one of many where people are used as content in exchange for money.
Or, it could mean that these 4 are still inside the show, and that the show’s boundaries have expanded. This second theory seems more likely in the final scenes of the show where Floor 7 is seen showing his editor/investor(?) a script for a show — coincidentally named ‘The 8 Show’.
And this comes to a full circle on how entertainment is everything, while being a never-ending cycle. Floor 7 witnessed these heinous things, even experienced some of them while being someone else’s form of entertainment, and now he was going to benefit from it all.
It just goes to show that the ones who suffer the most are not the ones who gain the most.
Oh, we’re back to the bleakness of life and reality. But maybe, just maybe, we can find a silver lining in all of this. Like how Floor 1 was remembered by complete strangers. They didn’t even know his name, but still mourned his death. I guess grief is somewhat capable of slowing down the cycle of entertainment, if not stopping it entirely.
The question we could ask ourselves after watching this show is: “If you were only a number to someone, would you also be remembered?”
I hope you enjoyed reading this piece on the Korean dark comedy thriller, The 8 Show. You can find more of my work here on Medium. Thank you for reading!
