Television Review: “The Platform 2” — Junk Food

By Sarah Osman

Was another helping of The Platform necessary? Maybe. But only if it was done right — and this is half-baked sci-fi horror.

Perempuan (Milena Smit) looking down at how the lower half lives in Platform 2. Photo: Netflix

When I first saw The Platform, I was struck by its elementality. Sometime in the near future, prisoners are kept in a vertical prison made of concrete slabs. Each day, a massive platform of food is lowered onto each level. Those on the upper levels feast to their heart’s content, while those on the lower level starve or eat their roommate. This apt metaphor for the inequalities of capitalism and trickle-down economics took on additional power when it was released during the pandemic. Many of us, forced into isolation, were reminded that those are the top had the resources to live freely while those on the bottom were left with scraps.

So I was intrigued when I learned that a sequel had been released on Netflix. And just in time for spooky season. But this dystopian nightmare redux left me as underfed as the poor souls at the bottom of the barrel. The Platform 2 opens with prisoners declaring what their favorite meal would be and what type of weapon or item they will bring to provide protection/comfort during the feast. We then shift to our new protagonists: Perempuan (Milena Smit) and her brooding shirtless roomie Zamiatan (Hovik Keuchkerian) on level 24. Everyday they eat their appointed meals — croquettes and pizza. The inmates above have created what they deem to be a fair system: Only eat your requested meal, don’t eat the meals of those who have perished, and if you want something else, trade with that person. Seems simple enough, right? Oh, but if you don’t follow the rules, we’ll kill you.

The first part of the film delves into how this ‘fair’ system breaks down, especially after Zamiatan starts chomping on a dead prisoner’s food. The first part of Platform 2 is undeniably disturbing, as creepily bleak as the first installment, especially when Zamiatan and Peremupuan are moved to level 180. However, the plot shift in the second half takes a downward turn for the worse. The problem is that what made the first film work so well — its simplicity — is ditched for unnecessary complication. The primal becomes the bureaucratic.

Along come the enforcers, known as the loyalists, who are led by an ‘appointed one’ picked via some sort of misguided religious allegory. It’s never made clear what the motives of these rebels are, other than an ambiguous notion about fairness. If the system is generally working, why would people need to fight for their freedom? Could this be an attempt at a commentary about how agitating for liberation is compromised because it hinders another’s right to survive? We never get the answer to that question, and by the film’s third act so many concepts are dumped into the fray that it is hard to keep track of and interest in the fracas. Is the prison floating in space? Or Hell? What exactly is Perempuan’s crime? Random folks from the first Platform show up; a bunch of kids fight their way to the top of a giant steel pyramid. What in the world is going on? What started as an apt metaphor about a dog-eat-dog economic system is muddled up by too many plotlines and extraneous political allegories. And, given that all the characters are one-dimensional, it was difficult to know who to root for. Why should anybody care what happens? This is a mortal flaw for a film that must be intended to trigger our empathy for the underclass.

Was another helping of The Platform necessary? Maybe. But only if it was done right — and this is half-baked sci-fi horror. And we may have a monster on our hands. Director Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia has expressed interest in burping up a third platform, creating some sort of Platform-verse, akin to the Marvel-verse. Wouldn’t this be an ironic, but appropriate, addition to Netflix’s corporate menu: a film that critiques capitalism is going full-on capitalist. Bon appetit!


Sarah Mina Osman is based in Los Angeles. In addition to the Arts Fuse, her writing can be found in Huffington Post, Success Magazine, Matador Network, HelloGiggles, Business Insider, and WatchMojo. She has an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of North Carolina Wilmington and is working on her first novel. She has a deep appreciation for sloths and tacos. You can keep up with her on Instagram @SarahMinaOsman.

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