Let's just cut right to it, this show was painfully boring. There, I said it. A story built around partial amnesia has real potential, but between the choppy scene structure and random flashbacks thrown in constantly, the whole plot ends up feeling more tangled than it needed to be. The romance doesn't fare much better either, it's written so poorly that I never really found myself invested in this couple. Both leads come across stiff on screen and deliver their lines in a really awkward way. The show runs 8 episodes, each somewhere around 30 to 35 minutes. Hanuel, a 29 year old language teacher, wakes up after an accident only to realize his memory stops at age 19. It turns out he'd been in another accident back then too, which is why his memories cut off at that point. He has zero recollection of the fact that he's currently living with his childhood friend Saebyeok, who's now a huge celebrity. That makes the whole situation even harder for Hanuel to wrap his ...
This premiered on HBO Max, and it's honestly one of the more unique queer stories out there, built around those specific moments in life where you're forced to grow up fast, where discipline, softness, and real sacrifice suddenly become non negotiable. It's a genuinely moving look at gay parenthood that happens completely by accident, following a hard partying twenty something gay model who suddenly has a baby become the center of his entire world after he's forced to raise his niece. There are eight episodes total, and I'd really tell you to slow down with this one and actually sit with it instead of rushing through.
The show kicks off with a gay orgy, introducing us to Filip, a model who's deep into drugs, partying, sex, and basically refuses to take anything in life seriously, work included. With his good looks and sharp jawline, he figures he can get away with anything, until his sister lays down an ultimatum that he needs to move out, since he's basically been living off her while she raises her one year old alone. Then things take a devastating turn when she dies in an accident, and Filip suddenly finds himself responsible for his niece Tosia. Having grown up in the foster system himself, he decides he wants to become her legal guardian, but that comes with a mountain of obstacles, since he's now stuck dealing with lawyers, social workers, and the foster system, all while knowing Poland won't easily hand a child over to a single gay man. This is exactly where his chosen family steps up and matters most. There's Kiki, his sister's friend, a single mom herself who's separated but might be heading back toward reconciliation, her sixteen year old daughter who sometimes babysits Tosia, his gay best friend Olek who's completely in love with him and ends up showing Filip just how much he's always been there for him, something Filip never fully clocked before, and the chaotic neighbor who, despite all their friction, ends up playing a huge role in Filip's fight for legal guardianship. In the middle of all this, Filip also finds himself potentially falling for a man named Pawel, feeling something he genuinely never expected he could feel, but with Tosia now part of the picture, Pawel starts feeling uncertain about where any of it might lead. Then another curveball hits when Tosia's grandmother decides she wants back into the baby's life and pushes for adoption, even though the father's made it painfully clear he wants nothing to do with the child.
At its core, Proud is really about pain, shame, and this deep craving to actually connect with someone. It shows grief through what people do rather than what they say, following a man who barely knows how to take care of himself as he's suddenly forced to protect someone who depends on him completely. The show manages to balance dark comedy, queer identity, family trauma, and the weight of Polish social pressure with real precision. Filip is obviously at the heart of everything, and his scenes with Tosia feel so genuine and beautifully done that you fully believe the bond between them. Whoever cast the lead role for Filip nailed it. He's hot, charming, cocky, full of swagger, and all of that peels away the second real responsibility comes knocking. That shift doesn't happen overnight either, it plays out messy and gradual, exactly how you'd expect it to go for a guy figuring out how to raise a one year old for real. Tosia doesn't magically transform him. What's actually more interesting is that he starts wanting to change before he even knows how to make that happen. The actor is incredible at hiding Filip's unspoken pain, always looking like he's seconds from letting that cocky exterior crack. Another huge strength is the found family surrounding Filip. His friend Olek is so loyal and so in love with him that he'd sacrifice himself before letting anything happen to Filip or Tosia. Kiki, being a young mother herself, knows a bit more about the caregiving side of things, but she's flawed too, worn down and tired from her own life. The alcoholic neighbor could've easily been a throwaway joke character, but the show gives her real pain that makes her presence actually matter. All these people come across as funny, needy, bruised, and generous. Their love shows up in practical ways. They keep showing up, put up with the worst of Filip, and hold onto faith in a better version of him that even he can't completely see in himself yet. The romance between Pawel and Filip could've used more development though, I never really bought how or why these two fell for each other so suddenly, but their chemistry on screen still worked well.
Dark humor keeps weaving through the grief throughout the show. The ending stays open, though you can pretty much tell where the custody case is headed. Proud is a genuinely exceptional drama about what it means to be gay in Poland today, and it's a great watch for anyone looking for something emotionally heavy that really lands. It also works as a sobering reminder of just how fragile LGBTQ+ rights remain in deeply religious societies. This show never goes for easy wins or preachy speeches. Instead, it sits in the pain, the shame, and that desperate need for genuine human connection. (8.5/10)
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