Karol Klementewicz’s Proud, co-written with Monika Pęcikiewicz, is a Polish HBO Max drama about the moment a life built on evasion suddenly demands discipline, tenderness, and sacrifice. Its central figure, Filip Raczyński, played by Ignacy Liss, is a late-twenties model with bleached hair, sharp beauty, a biker jacket, and a talent for turning irresponsibility into performance art. He drinks too early, parties too hard, treats sex as escape, and leaves practical messes for others to clean up.
Then his sister Anka dies, and Filip becomes responsible for her infant daughter, Tosia. That premise could have collapsed into sentimental formula, yet Proud has a rawer pulse. It studies grief through behavior rather than speeches, showing how a man who barely knows how to care for himself is forced to protect someone entirely dependent on him. The series balances black comedy, queer identity, family trauma, and Polish social pressure with a striking sense of control.
Filip Raczyński and the Performance of Damage
Filip is the kind of character who might be intolerable if the writing softened him too early. Proud refuses that shortcut. In the early episodes, he is vain, late, drugged, unreliable, sexually restless, and casually selfish. He crashes at Anka’s flat, neglects basic responsibilities, and seems to assume that charm can function as rent, apology, and life plan. That charm is powerful, which is precisely the problem.
Ignacy Liss makes Filip watchable without excusing him. He plays the role with a loose, dangerous magnetism, giving Filip the air of someone always posing for an invisible camera. Then Anka’s death punctures the pose. The shift is quiet rather than theatrical.
In the morgue scene, grief arrives through stillness, through a face trying to stay intact and failing. The image of Filip leaving glitter on his sister’s cold cheek after kissing her is devastating because it connects two worlds in one gesture: the club life he came from and the adult life he can no longer avoid.
Liss understands that Filip’s immaturity is rooted in old abandonment. His childhood in foster care with Anka sits beneath his recklessness like a bruise. He is not transformed overnight by Tosia. The stronger idea is messier: he begins to want change before he knows how to practice it.
Parenthood, Queerness, and the Shape of Family
Proud gains much of its force from the Polish setting. A single gay man seeking custody of a child carries legal and cultural danger here, and the series never treats that danger as background decoration. When a solicitor suggests Filip may need to “stop being gay for some time” to keep Tosia, the line lands with a terrible comic sting. It sounds absurd until the cruelty behind it becomes clear.
The show’s social commentary works because it stays close to Filip’s fear. He and Anka grew up in foster care, so the threat of Tosia being taken away is personal before it is political. He knows what institutional care can mean. His urgency comes from memory, guilt, and love, tangled together in ways he cannot neatly explain.
Around him, Proud builds a chosen family that feels lived-in rather than decorative. Olek, played by Kamil Studnicki, is loyal to the point of self-erasure, carrying Filip’s professional chaos and emotional carelessness with wounded patience.
Kiki, played by Maria Sobocińska, brings a different kind of tenderness. She is flawed, tired, and still instinctively parental, a young mother who often understands care better than the more stable-looking adults nearby. Beata, the alcoholic neighbor, could have been a cheap gag, yet the series gives her enough pain to make her presence matter.
These characters are funny, needy, bruised, and generous. Their love is practical. They show up, tolerate the worst, and keep some faith in the better version of Filip that even he cannot fully see.
Neon, Silence, and the Rhythm of Survival
Klementewicz gives Proud a visual identity that feels cinematic without losing television’s intimacy. The close-ups are especially important. Filip’s face becomes a screen for everything he cannot say: vanity, panic, lust, boredom, grief. The camera often moves between sensory overload and sudden quiet, which mirrors his inner life. Club lighting, Warsaw streets, cramped domestic spaces, modeling rooms, and baby-care routines all belong to the same emotional map.
The sound design and music sharpen that contrast. The opening use of Shouse’s “Love Tonight” sets a sensual, headlong rhythm, while later silences carry the weight of shock. I have always been drawn to stories where music exposes character rather than dressing up a scene, and Proud uses its soundtrack that way. The songs do not simply create atmosphere. They reveal the gap between Filip’s performance of freedom and his hunger for connection.
The comedy helps keep the series from becoming airless. Filip turning up to a modeling audition without underwear, a drug-affected swimwear appearance on morning television, and the absurd detail of a dog taken by a drug dealer over unpaid money all have a farcical snap. Still, the humor never erases the ache. It works because the series understands that grief and ridiculousness often share the same room.
Structurally, the first episode takes its time before the custody story fully arrives. That patience pays off, since we need to see Filip’s chaos before we can believe the difficulty of his change. Some early passages feel crowded, with many subplots pressing for attention, yet the editing, cinematography, costumes, set design, and ensemble performances keep the drama moving with confidence. Proud is rooted in Polish legal and cultural realities, yet its emotional reach is clear: it is about care arriving before readiness, and the terrifying work of becoming someone another person can trust.
Proud is a Polish drama television series that made its international television premiere on HBO Max on June 12, 2026, dropping weekly episodes following an acclaimed festival debut at Series Mania where it secured the Grand Prix. The plot centers on an irresponsible young gay model whose excessive lifestyle fractures when his sister suddenly passes away, forcing him to take custody of his newborn niece while confronting societal prejudice and deep-seated personal trauma. Audiences interested in watching the groundbreaking, high-profile production can stream the series online exclusively through the HBO Max premium streaming platform.
Where to Watch Proud Online
Full Credits
Title: Proud
Distributor: HBO Max, TVN Warner Bros. Discovery
Release date: June 12, 2026
Rating: TV-MA
Running time: 50–60 minutes per episode
Director: Karol Klementewicz
Writers: Karol Klementewicz, Monika Pęcikiewicz
Producers and Executive Producers: Bogumił Lipski, Andrzej Besztak, Magnolia Films
Cast: Ignacy Liss, Maria Sobocińska, Kamil Studnicki, Paweł Tomaszewski, Maja Ostaszewska, Alicja Lewczuk, Mateusz Więcławek, Joanna Kulig, Dorota Kolak, Tamara Arciuch, Paulina Holtz
Director of Photography (Cinematographer): Weronika Bilska
Composer: Łukasz Targosz
The Review
Proud
Proud is a sharply acted, visually confident Polish drama that turns a potentially familiar custody premise into a raw study of grief, queer parenthood, and emotional responsibility. Ignacy Liss gives Filip charm, damage, and painful tenderness, while Karol Klementewicz’s direction finds beauty in silence, neon, and domestic chaos. A few early subplots crowd the frame, yet the series has rare emotional clarity and cultural urgency.
PROS
- Strong lead performance
- Beautiful cinematography
- Sharp black humor
- Rich chosen-family dynamic
- Culturally specific, emotionally accessible
CONS
- Some crowded early plotting
- A few characters lean on familiar traits
- The first episode may feel slow to reach its main premise
