With all nine episodes now available, resident game show junkie Liam Maguren expresses his love for Netflix’s hit competitive game show Physical: 100.
Physical: 100
There are two kinds of physical competitive game shows: the ones that push human abilities to the limit and the ones that throw big red balls at clumsy goobers.
I could never get into the throw-big-red-balls-at-clumsy-goobers kind. Shows like Wipeout, Dodgeball Thunderdome, and Floor is Lava seem less about physical challenges and more about chucking attention-hungry people with little hand-eye coordination into a gauntlet of slapstick comedy. (The one exception is The Almost Impossible Gameshow which leans so hard into its cheap stupidity that it actually kinda works.)
That’s all well and good if you’re in it for the yucks. I, however, need my game shows to come with tense challenges and tenser muscles. I’m talking about the lean acrobatics of Ninja Warrior and Ultimate Beastmaster; the brute strength of Dwayne Johnson’s The Titan Games; the mental endurance of SAS; the speedy parkour of the terribly corny Ultimate Tag.
My eyeballs curled up the moment I put Netflix’s Physical: 100 into my veins, an exciting advancement of the fitness game show format which puts a diverse array of ultra-fit body types—from slender gymnasts to portly strongmen—against each other in an elimination-style tournament. As some of the contestants observed from the very first episode, it’s a lot like Squid Game, in as much as the winner gets a butt-load of money and no one knows what game they’re playing next.
That comparison alone would sell it short. The whole conceit, as explained by the show’s nameless narrator, is to “find the perfect body.” Everyone gets a cast mould of their torso but only one can be the Michelangelo’s David of physical performance. The rest must smash their torso with a hammer the moment they lose—a loud and somewhat comical way to say YOUR RIPPLING MUSCLES ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.
Physical: 100‘s Greek mythology aesthetic and completely unscientific methods of finding this “perfect body” should be an obvious sign that the show isn’t taking the conceit seriously. What it does do, however, is create some incredibly compelling match-offs crafted to test the major aspects of physical performance—agility, strength, endurance, balance, and willpower.
The beginning two games, or “Quests,” sell the concept perfectly. The first one’s simple: 100 contestants must hang from a bar for as long as they can. The second Quest is essentially a 1-on-1 match of King of the Hill, but the hill’s a medicine ball, there are two arenas to choose from (a sandpit vs a playground), full-contact wrestling is allowed, and the Top 50 hangers from the previous Quest get to choose their opponents.
This is where the show first kicks into full gear, showcasing some engrossing faceoffs between completely different kinds of athletes. Women take on men, Gen Zers face Gen Xers, and slender fellows try their luck on the burly beasts. Some results will surprise you. Others will not.
That engrossing, unpredictable energy maintains throughout Physical: 100. To mention the other Quests in detail would ruin a significant part of the show’s enjoyment—feeling the shock and awe of a revealed obstacle alongside the contestants—but trust me when I say they’re inventive and stay true to the show’s core concept. There’s only one vague criticism I’d place on the show: its final Quest feels a bit too straightforward and could have benefitted from a Titan Games-style Mount Olympus to make the most of its climax.
However, every other game show out there could benefit from having grounded contestants like those on Physical: 100. Confident but rarely cocky, the contestants here are more determined to put their performance ahead of their personality (even the YouTuber contestants feel human).
As such, it makes their abilities shine further and makes them more relatable as people. Terminator-sized bodybuilder Kim Kang-min doesn’t have to beat his Herculean chest to look absolutely frightening running after a medicine ball. National wrestler Jang Eun-sil doesn’t need to break her cool to become one of the show’s standout players. And middle-aged MMA legend Yoshihiro Akiyama doesn’t have to talk trash to the younger generation to make his presence known. Like great cinema, these contestants understand the value of, “show, don’t tell.”
But when they do talk, these contestants get straight to the point. Many won’t flinch to consider themselves favourable to win a Quest or point out the person they consider the weakest in the group. It’s ruthless, but not necessarily mean-spirited. Still, when someone gravely underestimates an opponent, it’s satisfying to watch them eat a milkless bowl of their own words. And, to their credit, they’ll humbly eat that bowl up, smash their worthless/incredible torso, and wish that person the best for future Quests.
As the numbers dwindle, everyone eventually starts cheering for each other—as if the continued struggles and tortures of the Quests trigger some kind of mass sympathy and camaraderie among the contestants. This wholesome sportsmanship literally drives some to tears, a sweaty flex of the heart.
Physical: 100 isn’t a simple display of hulking fitness elites; it’s a journey littered with the rewards gained from pushing yourself and others beyond your perceived limits. You’ll often hear eliminated contestants say they’ll cherish the “happy memories” this show gave them. And gosh darn it, so will I.
