This review may contain spoilers
CasHero: A Proper Pulp Comedy About Absurd Superheroes
CasHero is not a ridiculous series — it is an absurd one, and that distinction matters.
This is pulp comedy, a genre that deliberately blends violence, humor, and nonsense under strict internal rules. When done wrong, it collapses into parody. When done right, it becomes razor-sharp. CasHero clearly knows what it is doing.
The story follows an ordinary man who inherits a superpower with an absurd cost: his strength and regeneration only work if he carries his own money, and using those powers literally burns that money away. Not using them, however, slowly destroys his health. This isn’t heroism — it’s obligation.
Other “heroes” are just as inconvenient: powers fueled by bread or alcohol. The absurdity is not a flaw; it is the premise.
Performance-wise, Lee Jun-ho delivers a restrained, exhausted protagonist far removed from the usual charismatic hero. Kim Hye-jun is even more important, completely avoiding traditional K-drama archetypes and bringing agency and presence without melodrama. Lee Chae-min’s villain is genuinely detestable, which is a strength in this genre.
Director Lee Chang-min deserves credit for fully respecting pulp comedy rules, balancing violence, rhythm, and absurdity while avoiding the usual K-drama shortcuts.
CasHero never asks permission to exist.
It commits to its premise until the very end and walks away.
Not many series dare to do that.
This is pulp comedy, a genre that deliberately blends violence, humor, and nonsense under strict internal rules. When done wrong, it collapses into parody. When done right, it becomes razor-sharp. CasHero clearly knows what it is doing.
The story follows an ordinary man who inherits a superpower with an absurd cost: his strength and regeneration only work if he carries his own money, and using those powers literally burns that money away. Not using them, however, slowly destroys his health. This isn’t heroism — it’s obligation.
Other “heroes” are just as inconvenient: powers fueled by bread or alcohol. The absurdity is not a flaw; it is the premise.
Performance-wise, Lee Jun-ho delivers a restrained, exhausted protagonist far removed from the usual charismatic hero. Kim Hye-jun is even more important, completely avoiding traditional K-drama archetypes and bringing agency and presence without melodrama. Lee Chae-min’s villain is genuinely detestable, which is a strength in this genre.
Director Lee Chang-min deserves credit for fully respecting pulp comedy rules, balancing violence, rhythm, and absurdity while avoiding the usual K-drama shortcuts.
CasHero never asks permission to exist.
It commits to its premise until the very end and walks away.
Not many series dare to do that.
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