THE HOOLIGAN: When Dreams Cost a Life

It may seem that the latest series, The Hooligan, is a show about football hooliganism, but nothing could be further from the truth. Łukasz Palkowski’s production goes far beyond the simplistic debate of whether hooliganism is good or bad; instead, it focuses on why it can be an appealing alternative for young people. There has been a lack of a series in the Polish media landscape that approaches the fan community not from a criminal but a sociological perspective. Surprisingly, for a Polish series, all the elements come together well—the characters are undeniably part of the supporter culture, but above all, they are human. Their actions are not driven simply by blind loyalty to club colors but by something deeper. If you are not afraid of intense storytelling, The Hooligan on Netflix may broaden your understanding of young people who, in pursuit of their dreams, are exploited by corrupt older figures who are not even true fans themselves.

As I mentioned earlier, hooliganism—being a football thug and the mental darkness that comes with it—is merely the backdrop for the struggles of the main characters: Kuba (Grzegorz Palkowski), Blanka (Mila Jankowska), and Michał (Karol Pocheć). Their personal issues are, of course, intertwined with the football fan scene, but the story unfolds in the context of a criminal network led by Zyga (Wojciech Zieliński). The show presents this world with a mix of satire and crime drama, revealing the inner workings of the fan subculture in detail. However, what matters most is not what happens to the characters as fans, but as people. They are individuals searching for a sense of belonging, trying to escape the loneliness, hopelessness (including financial struggles), and lack of prospects that define their existence.

This is not an excuse suggesting that all hooligans are lonely and turn to crime because of it. Rather, the series highlights that joining any criminal organization is rarely a matter of personal hobby—it is often shaped by multiple factors: family background, cultural influences, financial difficulties, and social conditions. Personality traits play a role, of course, but human nature is not inherently criminal. People become criminals, and that is what The Hooligan explores. The world of pseudo-fans is simply the chosen setting, as it happens to be a crime-prone environment.

I was never a football fan myself, but I have spent a considerable amount of time in stadiums for professional reasons, so the presence of fans, including ultras, does not surprise or disturb me. These are people fulfilling a dream—feeling safe within a group and gaining recognition. Being a supporter can, in a way, be therapeutic, even if this therapy can cause harm to others. During matches, people surrender to primal instincts, letting go of all restraints. On one hand, it is good that they can; on the other, it is dangerous when they fail to control this aggression in the long term, eventually leading them down a criminal path.

I realize I am expecting something almost impossible—that hooligans might reflect on their own instincts—but those who manipulate them, the ones far smarter than the average hooligan, certainly do. Zyga, the character in the show, exemplifies this calculated reflection. He builds a criminal organization made up of societal outcasts, binding them together with the idea of club loyalty, only to exploit them for drug trafficking. The Hooligan brilliantly illustrates how young people are drawn deeper into criminal structures, feeling trapped with no other path to reach their goals—desperate to stand alongside the more cunning figures who understand the true price of the world they operate in.

I would eagerly recommend this series to Patryk Vega, hoping he might revisit the hooligan theme in the future. His previous full-length attempt was not terrible, but Łukasz Palkowski’s production—boldly written by Klaudiusz Kuś and vividly captured by cinematographer Łukasz Gutt—could deepen Vega’s understanding of what it means to be a hooligan. Or rather, what it means to be a person for whom the supporter community is the only real alternative for a somewhat happy life.

Entering this world is not easy, so the creators had to find a way to make viewers accept its profanity-laden language, its violence, the corruption of sports for financial gain, and the overall social decay it portrays. They achieved this by telling the harrowing stories of two young people with whom some viewers might identify—those who remember the bleak housing estates of the post-communist transition period and the suffocating daily stagnation that was genuinely terrifying. The world was far from colorful, though the scarves were, and the emotions in the stadiums burned bright. And from there, it only took a single step into the darkness—one that could determine the course of many lost years.

How can one be a fan without losing oneself? And why did football become the ultimate sport for hooligan culture? Perhaps The Hooligan offers answers to these questions as well.