2020 - Present
Alice in Borderland is Netflix Japan's eight-episode survival thriller from director Shinsuke Sato, adapted from Haro Aso's manga Imawa no Kuni no Alice, which serialised in Japan from 2010 to 2015. Season 1 arrived in December 2020. Season 2 followed in December 2022. Season 3 lands in September 2025 with a confirmed expansion of the world and its rules. The chronology matters, because the lazy framing for this show is "Japan's Squid Game" and that framing gets the history wrong. Aso's manga predates Hwang Dong-hyuk's Korean hit by more than a decade. The Netflix adaptation aired a full year before Squid Game changed the global conversation around survival-game TV.
I first watched it over two nights in January 2023, which is the correct way to watch it.
Kento Yamazaki plays Ryōhei Arisu, a drifting twenty-something who gets transported with two friends into a mysteriously depopulated Tokyo. Shibuya, empty. Shinjuku, empty. No signal, no bodies, no explanation. To survive, Arisu has to enter and win deadly games sorted by playing-card suit and number. Hearts are psychological traps, diamonds logic puzzles, spades physical brutalism. Clubs are different: they reward teamwork and punish selfishness above all else. Each win buys a visa, a finite number of days before the next mandatory game. Tao Tsuchiya plays Yuzuha Usagi, a champion mountain climber who becomes Arisu's partner in trying to crack what the Borderland actually is.
Yamazaki carries the show. His Arisu begins as a gamer-brained slacker and becomes, over two seasons, the emotional core of a brutal ensemble piece. It is a star-making performance and the reason Netflix keeps renewing. Tsuchiya gives Usagi a physical presence the camera cannot fake: she did much of her own climbing work and it shows in the Spades games, where the fear feels earned rather than choreographed.
Nijiro Murakami steals a surprising amount of screen time as Chishiya, the smirking schemer whose loyalties you never trust. His scenes with Arisu set the moral temperature of the whole run. Sho Aoyagi arrives in season 2 as Kyuma, a Face Card antagonist whose calm voice and flashes of tenderness scramble the expectations for a villain on a show this violent.
The supporting ensemble is deep:
Tao Tsuchiya
Yuzuha Usagi
Kai Inowaki
recurring
Keita Machida
Chōta Segawa
Tsuyoshi Abe
Takatora Samura
Dori Sakurada
Suguru Niragi
Ayame Misaki
Saori Shibuki
Aya Asahina
Hikari Kuina
Nijiro Murakami
Shuntarō Chishiya
Japanese name order is preserved throughout because the show is Japanese and that is how these actors are credited at home. Arisu is, not coincidentally, a Japanese romanisation of "Alice", which is the show's quiet joke about Lewis Carroll and which becomes a lot more interesting by the time the Borderland starts explaining itself.
On the surface this is a survival game show and a very good one. Underneath, the story is about depression and wasted purpose. The shame of being a young man who feels he has not yet done anything worth doing. Arisu before the Borderland is a classic hikikomori-adjacent character: smart enough to be aware he is failing, not functional enough to climb out. The games are the fire he needed.
Aso's manga has always been more philosophical than its premise suggests, and Sato's adaptation keeps that thread intact. The Hearts games in particular force characters to pick who lives and who dies based on who they are, not what they can do, which is where the emotional damage happens. The Diamonds games reward the kind of lateral thinking the writers respect enormously. Season 2's Face Card arcs expand the question from "who survives" to "what is this place for", and the answers are stranger and more humane than the marketing suggests.
The games are the point, but the grief around the games is the reason you keep watching.
Sato is the obvious director for this material. His live-action Gantz, Bleach, and I Am a Hero adaptations are all exercises in turning manga panels into kinetic cinema, and he brings the same instincts here. The set pieces are enormous: an empty Shibuya crossing shot from a drone overhead, a burning tag game that tears through the corridors of a Tokyo tower block, an underwater challenge staged in a flooded terminal building that reportedly took weeks to prep. The "Hide and Seek" episode in season 1, widely cited as the series peak, plays out inside a near-abandoned apartment building with a precision most action TV cannot touch.
Production value is film-grade. Netflix clearly opened the chequebook, the cast clearly felt the responsibility, and you can see both on screen in every frame. Costumes drift from streetwear in early episodes to something closer to post-apocalyptic uniform by the end of season 2. Colour grading tilts warm gold in the quieter moments and cold steel in the games. Composer Yutaka Yamada's score is sparse and excellent, doing most of its work through silence rather than orchestra.
Alice in Borderland is one of Netflix's most globally successful non-English-language releases, second only to a very small group that includes Squid Game. Season 1 hit Netflix's global top ten in over forty countries. Season 2 repeated the feat at greater scale and cemented the show as a flagship for Netflix Japan.
Critically it holds up. Comparisons in the Western press have reached for Lost (the island-mystery structure), Black Mirror (the tech-adjacent dread), and Severance (the strangeness of rule-bound parallel realities). The closer relatives sit in the same Netflix catalogue. Kingdom shares the production polish and the willingness to commit entirely to its genre. The Silent Sea, another non-English sci-fi thriller in the Netflix stable, shares the small-cast, big-mystery DNA. Alice in Borderland sits above most of its peers because it has three things those shows do not: Sato behind the camera, Yamazaki carrying the front, and fifteen years of Aso's manga as foundation material.
The cheap take is that this is Japan doing Squid Game better. The honest take is that this is Japan doing something Japan has been doing very well for a long time, which is turning the survival-game premise into a character study, and that Squid Game is the one catching up rather than the other way around. Aso's manga ran for half a decade before Hwang wrote his pilot. Sato's adaptation is a clean, serious, emotionally present piece of genre television that respects its source material and its actors in equal measure.
Season 3 arrives in September 2025 and my hunch is it closes the loop rather than dragging it out. Eight episodes at a time. Strong directors. A cast that clearly likes each other. Netflix has learned that non-English prestige travels, and Alice in Borderland is one of the shows that taught them.
I keep recommending this to friends who bounced off Squid Game's particular Korean social context. The survival stakes are serious without the tonal whiplash of some of the bloodier anime adaptations. The lead performance is worth following for twenty-plus hours. A third reason exists: this is a major manga adapted with real care, which is still rarer than it should be. All three hold. Any one of them is enough.
Kento Yamazaki
Ryōhei Arisu
Yutaro Watanabe
Daikichi Karube
Sho Aoyagi
Kyūma (Jack of Hearts)
Riisa Naka
Mira Kano