Bad Lawyer Review – catchy, twisted and surprisingly hammy | Television

MeIf the title of this Thai crime-cum-courtroom drama sounds a little overwhelming, wait until you meet the crook in question. His name is Jittri and he is, at least at the beginning of the show, a pantomime villain in a power suit, his hair bigger than he likes. They’re known to rip off stupid customers with every trick necessary, walk slowly, flash a squiggly sign after every win, and (like all misfits) wear glasses inside. If he has a moustache, he’ll absolutely rock it.

But don’t be fooled; One Indian does not make a pantomime. Directed by Nottapon Boonprakob, whose 2025 drama Mad Unicorn won several awards, the eight-episode series can be messy and at times silly, but also deals with questions of power, corruption and systemic injustice as well as a twisted plot.

We open with Jittri (Rhatha Phongam) successfully defending his stillborn client by arguing (in front of his mother) that the child was not a person but a “piece of flesh”, before taking a bucket of blood to the faces of the prosecution outside the courtroom. That’s when our other lead, lawyer Mek (Nat Kitcharit), first meets Jittri, his blood-stained shirt carelessly waving, foreshadowing what’s to come.

Very much no of evil persuasion, Mek works on pro bono cases and adheres to strict rules but, when he refuses to leave a case that has more danger than the public, he finds himself ready to kill the opposing lawyer, the son of the corrupt police chief Anan, and faces the death penalty. In clacks Jittri to represent him in vain, as long as he is working on a specific case – all of which involves protecting the guilty in exchange for favors that will increase his chances.

These cases, as well as Mek’s conflict between his values ​​and his survival, make up the plot of the series but, when he reluctantly moves to the dark side, the intertwining of interconnected lines opens a great exploration of the differences between people and the limits of justice. Mek’s search for the real killer uncovers the brutality of migrant workers; he is helped by his old friend Ang, who is applying to a powerful political party that may be working with Anan; Mek’s father, the chief judge, also has a reputation as a crooked policeman; and Jittri’s methods are revealed to be due to his past failures. They distort the law, they say, because the law does not protect everyone equally.

Boonprakob’s notes (written by five other artists, no less) tie together all the moving parts. The action is well-directed and well-shot, and the fun builds up as the cool moments (usually only come in crime scenes), which Jittri goes through and transforms to create his crimes. The Bangkok show takes us behind the scenes of the city, the fish markets and temple gardens, to the fishing grounds on the open sea and the spectacular view of the Thai Supreme Court.

Kitcharit is great as a Mek that gets more and more powerful, his supporting cast is equally strong, and even Jittri’s Phongam develops some layers as his story unfolds. Some of the best performances, however, come from the perpetrators and victims of Jittri’s crimes – especially Ploy Siriudomset, who gives a harrowing testimony as the woman who was raped by the doctor Jittri defends. It’s one of many moments of real power and poignancy, and another unsettling request to consider how Jittri’s methods can be accepted.

But there is also tonal bumpiness. The song is one of the main offenders, having a few minutes of drum sequences in the climax. And there’s a clever subtext: Anan breaking out a toothpick while threatening someone at a black-tie event is one of those silly things. Some of the obstacles Jittri uses and the faith of the applicants – although the production team spends years visiting the courts, consulting lawyers and managing fictitious cases with legal experts to prove it.

The smaller moments – provided by the oafish twenty-something brothers who help Jittri in his cases – feel torn between melancholy and melancholy. Although I can’t help but love the scene where the three witnesses, sleeping through their teeth to create an alibi for Jittri’s client, play out their fictional night in a strange way.

At the end of the six episodes I’ve shared, do I think this is the most well-crafted series to grace our screens? No. Will I be publishing the last two episodes as soon as they drop? Absolutely – if only to find out if, in his name, the badass lawyer is still the one with the weird perm.