I’ve just come out of Alice in Borderland Season 3 feeling stirred, a little unbalanced, and strangely energized. This is a finale that leans hard on tension, heartbreak, and questions rather than clean answers. It doesn’t always land perfectly, but in its boldness, it often soars.
From the start, the show confronts the weight of what “returning to life” really means. In seasons past, the Borderland was a brutal playground with rules and faces of suits; here, the stakes turn more metaphysical. Arisu and Usagi have been given a reprieve in the “real world,” their memories clouded, their daily life almost serene, until the appearance of a Joker card and the kidnapping of Usagi drag Arisu back into chaos. The show teases that the fabric between life and death is fraying, and the motive behind the new games is rooted less in spectacle and more in existential reckoning.
One big win: the emotional core between Arisu and Usagi never feels like window dressing. Their reunion scenes (and later, separation) carry weight. That said, the show sometimes struggles to give the supporting cast equally compelling arcs. New entrants like Ryuji (the scholar obsessed with the afterlife) add needed layers, but some of those threads feel compressed. Six episodes are not a lot of room to juggle fresh faces, returning players, and the heavy lore that Season 3 wants to explore.
Visually and technically, the show remains a feast. The framing, pacing, and production design capture the uncanny tension of the Borderland world, a place where uncanny emptiness lies only inches away from pulse-racing danger. A scene in the Hikawa Shrine, in particular, stands out: the lighting, the subtle sound design, the quiet before the storm. It reminded me that this series has always been at its strongest when it lets silence speak. The direction leans into discomfort; you feel your breath quicken even when nothing overtly violent is on screen.
I admire how the show leans into ambiguity rather than forcing closure. The “Man in the Hat” / possible Joker figure is portrayed in ways that make you question what power truly is. The writing often hints that the Joker might not be a villain in the conventional sense but a function, a threshold between existence and nothingness. Moments like the card games themselves, when the rules shift or seem deceptive, show a willingness to respect the viewer’s intelligence. I also appreciated that the script doesn’t shy from grief — it doesn’t treat loss as a plot device you get over; instead, it sits with it.
Still, there are moments where the ambition strains the execution. Because the third season takes the show beyond its original manga source material, some narrative detours feel less grounded. The plot, in a few episodes, presses pause too long on exposition or myth without sufficient connective tissue to the characters. I sometimes wished for more breathing space. When you’re juggling metaphysics, personal stakes, and survival games, it’s easy for the emotional logic to thin. Also, there are scenes when the show leans on symbolic imagery so heavily that it teeters toward being on-the-nose, losing some of its earlier subtlety.
As for pacing, the back half slightly drags. After a blistering start, the middle episodes linger in transitions. I felt the show needed one extra episode to let certain key revelations land with more power. But even in slower stretches, the show keeps pulling you forward with hints, reversals, and moral tension. You rarely get a breather long enough to disengage.
In the finale, the show circles back to its core question: what does it mean to choose life, with all its pain and uncertainty, over death, where certainties await? Arisu’s final choice feels earned, even if in some moments you can see the threads of the emotional beats, the hints dropped earlier that lead him there. There is closure, but not total resolution. That’s appropriate, because the idea that some mysteries linger is part of what this show is about. The closing moments showing tectonic tremors in the real world, a teaser of a new “Alice” in California, suggest the border between worlds might be more porous than ever.
I left Season 3 with admiration for its guts. It doesn’t play safe. It doesn’t offer the comfort of clear lines or neat endings. And especially after a huge gap since Season 2, it had to re-engage old fans and bring in new ones. It does that more often than not. The chemistry of the leads remains strong: you believe these two have been forged by every game, every loss, every hope. The visual craftsmanship remains high. And the willingness to ask deep, uncomfortable questions lifts it out of mere spectacle.
But it’s not flawless. The compressed runtime bound some ideas. The supporting cast is uneven at times. And the more abstract the show becomes, the higher the risk that some viewers will feel untethered. Still, I prefer a finale that leaves me thinking, unsettled, than one that panders.
If you’ve followed Arisu’s journey from empty days in Tokyo to labyrinthine, deadly games, Season 3 feels like a fitting if imperfect capstone. It’s a final round you’ll want to revisit, parse, and question. The cards it deals are sharper, darker, and deeper than ever. And as the credits roll, you’re left asking: what game remains, beyond life and death?
Final Score- [8/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
Follow @AnjaliS54769166 on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times