Extraordinary Lawyer Woo
Hangul 이상한 변호사 우영우
Revised Romanization Isanghan byeonhosa uyeongu
McCune–Reischauer Isanghan pyŏnhosa uyŏngu
Literally Strange Lawyer Woo Young-woo
Written by Moon Ji-won
Directed by Yoo In-shik
Starring Park Eun-bin, Kang Tae-oh, Kang Ki-young
Country of origin South Korea
Production companies AStory, KT Studio Genie, Nangman Crew
Distributors: ENA, Netflix
I fired up Extraordinary Lawyer Woo on a whim. I could see it was Korean, and as the world knows by now, Korea has been producing some amazing dramas over the past several years.
Had I known the basic premise of the plot, I might not have watched. The titular character, Woo Young-woo (Park Eun-bin) is a rookie lawyer who has autism. At worst, I thought, the show might be farcical and cruel; at best a rehash of the old Tony Shalhoub vehicle Monk, which was a series about a detective with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
The show opens with a man, a successful widowed lawyer, and his five year old daughter. They are visiting a doctor’s office. The child has not, to that point, uttered a single word, and based on that and her behavioral oddities, the doctor diagnoses her with autism spectrum disorder.
Upon returning to their flat, they are confronted by the landlord, who threatens to evict them because he believes (without cause) his wife has been sleeping with the lawyer. Shouting escalates to a fist fight. The child, rocking violently from side to side with her hands over her years, suddenly starts shouting the Korean legal codes dealing with grievous bodily assault, word for word. Woo may have been mute all her life, but she had taught herself to read from the materials at hand—her father’s legal library.
This may sound incredibly far-fetched, but while very uncommon, it does happen. People with ASD may be extremely awkward at social interactions and communication, engage in repetitive and sometimes obsessive behaviors, show intense interests in odd subjects, and give unusual responses in most social settings. For years, they were considered mentally handicapped, and there was an old term, idiot savant (knowledgeable fool) applied to them. The term has died a deserved death, but the concept that intellect and cognition may be unimpaired is a valuable one when dealing with autistic people.
People on the spectrum often have normal intellect, and some are flat-out geniuses. Because of this, there is considerable sentiment in the mental health community to stop referring to the spectrum as a ‘disorder’ and call it a condition instead.
Woo was so convincing that I looked up Park, the actor playing her, to see if Park herself might be on the spectrum. I realized I had seen her in a couple of other roles that left no doubt that what I was seeing in Woo was an accurate, compelling, and totally convincing acting role. But not an actor with actual autism.
Woo remembers everything in every book she has read. She has an unusual fascination with whales. She has echolalia (compulsive repetition of phrases) and is extremely uncomfortable interacting with people she doesn’t know well. She walks with a strange gait, with her arms extended straight out and down from her sides at about a thirty degree angle. She also has a brilliant legal mind, and is extremely adept at puzzle solving. There’s a hilarious (and heartwarming) sequence where she struggles to master the intricacies of a revolving door. Even though there are conventional entrances to the building, she is determined to face down this obstacle. You’ll learn to count to three in Korean, and enjoy doing so.
Park is flat-out enchanting in this role, and the writing is sensitive, sophisticated, and warm. Yes, it’s often funny, but there’s no cruelty here; you never find yourself laughing at Woo.
Now in its fifth week, the popularity of the show has exploded in Korea, with viewership increasing ten-fold in just the first three weeks. Praise for the show is universal.
After just one episode, I see why that is so.
Now on Netflix.