As we live in such a dark and unfair world, we sometimes forget how powerful a good story can be. A good story can not only offer us solace and hope, but also serve as a protest, a frustrated scream against a system that protects the powerful and stifles the powerless. That’s the kind of story that you’ll find in tvN’s Pro Bono, a masterfully crafted legal drama that came to a close in January 2026.
Directed by Kim Seong-yoon and Baek Sang-hoon and written by Moon Yoo-seok, Pro Bono is an often maddening, yet always hopeful, portrayal of how far greed and corruption can go โ and a reminder of how we can always fight back, no matter how small we may feel.
Moon, a former judge himself who had previously written JTBC’s excellent Miss Hammurabi, finds his voice once again โ this time, clearer, louder, and angrier. His sharp social commentary becomes the foundation of his narrative and the core of each and every one of his characters, establishing a story that dares to be more than a drama. Moon makes Pro Bono his manifesto for a fairer and more equal society.
This review contains very, very mild spoilers. But, if you’d like to avoid spoilers altogether, you can pin our spoiler-free summary at the bottom!
Who Is “The People’s Judge” and What Does He Truly Need?
Pro Bono introduces us to star judge Kang Da-wit (Jung Kyung-ho), who arrives at Seoul Central District Court to a crowd of journalists. As he walks past them, he ignores their questions regarding today’s trial, in which he’s to sentence the head of one of Korea’s most powerful conglomerates. With Gabriel Garcรญa Mรกrquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude in hand, he makes his way to the court with a cheeky, confident demeanour. He’s kind to the security guard, to whom he’s bought ox knee and leg bones to help with the old man’s health. He’s also kind to his assistant, whose sick grandmother is guaranteed a VIP room at an excellent hospital thanks to his connections.
At court, he’s merciless: in an unprecedented ruling, he sentences the powerful CEO to 10 years in prison and a 70 billion won fine. Kang is “the people’s judge,” a high school graduate who clawed his way to South Korea’s most prominent court and now fights for the downtrodden.
Or does he? We soon realise that the copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude is an empty cover to a manga series. He celebrates his latest step towards public acclaim, one that will eventually lead him to his ultimate goal: becoming the next Supreme Court Justice.
The first 15 minutes of Pro Bono are a masterclass in character introduction: Kang is the book he carries, his seemingly righteous persona a mere cover to an ambitious, single-minded man. He knows the system and how to navigate it. Cunning and manipulative, he knows when โ and to whom โ to be sycophantic, generous, and self-assured.
But soon his carefully designed plan towards the Supreme Court goes awry when he’s framed for bribery and forced to resign. That’s when Oh Jung-in (Lee Yoo-young), Kang’s old friend and the CEO of Oh & Partners, one of Korea’s most prestigious law firms, contacts him and asks for his help.
Oh offers Kang a role in her company. As a senior advisor? As a lawyer in some fancy, profitable department? No, as a public interest lawyer in their pro bono division. There, he meets the brilliant Park Gi-ppeum (So Joo-yeon), the multiskilled Jang Yeong-sil (Yoon Na-moo), the outspoken Yoo Nan-hee (Seo Hye-won), and the naรฏve Hwang Jun-woo (Kang Hyung-seok). On the surface, these five characters couldn’t be more different, but the adventure Pro Bono invites us to will soon test that theory.
Resigned to his fate, Kang proposes a deal to Oh: if he brings up their win rate from 20 to 70 per cent in a year, Oh will make him a Supreme Court Justice. To make that happen, Kang embarks on a journey that may start materialistic but soon turns into a quest for justice, an exploration of human nature, and a piercing portrayal of prejudiced, degraded structures that place power in the hands of the few by ruining the lives of the many.
Pro Bono: A (Charmingly) Angry Story about Justice
The narrative of Pro Bono is angry โ charmingly and cleverly angry โ at the system, at the hypocrisy and corruption that permeate most, if not all, of our institutions. This rage fuels every episode, which observes the underbelly and the pretence of Korean society with biting precision. Behind the faรงade of a just, modern, and politically correct nation, the pro bono team sees the forgotten, the oppressed, and the marginalised. They give them a voice, bringing their realities into the spotlight and offering them the trust, support, and acceptance they have never been given.
This is a ruthless yet subtle script in which every single event, exchange, and element matters. Prejudice, whether against foreigners, women, or persons with disabilities, comes to the surface through everyday actions and seemingly innocent comments, but also through ingrained and structural inequalities. The cultural obsession with hierarchy and rank, the senseless, antiquated laws, the suffocating celebrity culture โ Pro Bono tackles it all, connecting all these dots through a modern retelling of the biblical story of David and Goliath.
Da-wit, which stands for the Korean pronunciation of David, is a character who relentlessly pursues what he wants (the position of Supreme Court Justice). But, with every case he faces, he grows into a person who recognises and seeks what he truly needs (the truth and a more equitable society). But the “David” in Pro Bono isn’t just Da-wit, but the pro bono team altogether. It’s them against a gigantic, all-powerful system that they strive to change.
Yes, “change”. Not “defeat”. Pro Bono may always respond to its dark, cruel, and infuriating conflicts with wonderfully humane and optimistic resolutions, but it’s never naรฏve enough to believe that our David could bring down this Goliath once and for all. Pro Bono is a step towards the right direction: an illustration of how we can all be more compassionate and egalitarian, a reminder of how we should always stand up for what we believe is right.
What gives heart and sparkle to a script that isn’t scared of addressing some very heavy themes is the interactions within the pro bono team. Their dynamics, extraordinarily established and charismatically delivered, bolster their individual characterisation and create a group of well-rounded personas that you empathise with and root for.
It’s fascinating to see them working together as Kang identifies the unique strengths of his fellow lawyers and teaches them how to use those to their advantage. He teaches his colleagues to look at their opponent with more realistic and less romantic ideals. He shows them that, in order to win, they sometimes have to play a winding, complex game. Righteous beliefs alone won’t defeat Goliath, so they often have to manipulate reality, logic, and law, making use of the loopholes to win their battles.
It’s this relationship between Kang and the pro bono team that shows us, the audience, that Kang isn’t all that bad. He may be full of old-fashioned beliefs, greedy desires, and questionable methods, but he’s hardworking, resourceful, and kind. Unconsciously, Kang has always known what he needs โ but it’s the pro bono team that awakens in him his true purpose and allows him to grow into the person he genuinely is. The unwavering principles that guide Gi-ppeum, Yeong-sil, and Nan-hee encourage Kang to replace his cynicism with selflessness and sincerity.
Gi-ppeum, in particular, works as a perfect mirror to Kang. While they have both lived very challenging lives, Gi-ppeum has always chosen to be candidly generous and altruistic. Surrounded by people who always had personal agendas, her attitude has always been seen as strangely noble. “Is it that weird to want to live life by doing good things without any other motives? Why do we have to prove goodwill and assume selfishness?” she often wonders.
Through the mirror that Gi-ppeum offers him, Kang can reflect on his own actions and overcome his limitations. The narrative of Pro Bono is scrupulously paced and structured, its twists and turns meticulously designed by characters who are given the autonomy to cleverly create their own paths. Antagonists, who range from morally grey to fully unscrupulous, are given motivation, wit, and the hubris to cause their own downfall. With the show’s main theme consistently guiding everything that happens in this series, every action always has a consequence.
The final arc of Pro Bono brings all its elements together by allowing its characters to put into practice what they’ve learned. When the mentees are forced to go against their mentor, both sides are offered a choice โ to stick to their old ways or to act as their new and fully-fledged selves. Pro Bono comes to a close as a rewarding, thought-provoking, and touching story that acknowledges both the ugliness and the beauty in human nature and in the society that we all build together.
A Couple of Technical Notes
Visually, the series also shows a profound attention to detail. The cinematography, not only gorgeous but also meaningful, is carefully bolstered by intricate production design. Pro Bono also benefits from an excellent score (Park Sung-il’s Theme of Pro Bono and K.Will’s Funky Player are simply irresistible!) and, of course, impeccable performances.
Jung Kyung-ho leads this tale with sensitivity, charisma, and mesmerising aplomb. So Joo-yeon responds to Jung with equal strength, the subtlety in her delivery strengthening her character’s many layers. Meanwhile, Choi Dae-hoon once again proves to be one of Korea’s most versatile (and underrated) actors, and Lee Yoo-young absolutely nails Oh Jung-in’s cold, shrewd, and relentless persona. I believe this is one of Lee’s best and most fascinating performances, without a doubt. It’s tricky to discuss acting in Pro Bono since this is a kind of script that requires a lot of nuanced performances, from its protagonists to its guest characters. Fear not, though, as Pro Bono counts on a star-studded cast, whose guest roles include Kim Jung-young, Sung Dong-il, and Yoo Jae-myung.
Should You Watch Pro Bono?
Through a riveting and provocative narrative, Pro Bono encourages us to recognise our own hypocrisy and look at the world around us with more tolerant eyes. The show’s social commentary may start locally, but it always expands to encompass universal experiences that all of us, regardless of where we are, will relate to.
What makes Pro Bono so rare and so flawless is how this story portrays an unjust and brutal world without ever giving in to its cynicism and gloom. Kang and the pro bono team remind us that, no matter how dark and long the night, we can still fight. We can still raise our voices against the giant that oppresses us. Goliath might still stand, but together, we can make it weaker by changing our reality one step at a time.
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