As a critic with a penchant for unconventional storytelling and a soft spot for the holiday season, I found “Black Doves” to be a delightful blend of intrigue, drama, and festive cheer. The series manages to weave together a myriad of elements – from love stories to betrayals, undercurrents of Yuletide redemption, and violence that ranges from shocking to cartoonish – in a way that feels fresh and engaging.
Here are the items you currently have: A cheese grater is inside the dishwasher, there’s a peeler available, you also have some skewers, and both a kettle and a NutriBullet.
In the second episode of the new Netflix drama, “Black Doves,” these words are spoken by Helen, the prim and proper wife of the rising government minister, Wallace (portrayed by Andrew Buchan), to one of their houseguests.
Helen takes immense pride in her beautifully equipped kitchen, and her visitor isn’t just dropping by late at night. He’s an assassin, here to end her life for reasons unknown. She, too, is a spy. The array of culinary tools at her disposal serves less as a boast about her upscale lifestyle and more as a subtle hint that beneath her polished exterior as a devoted wife, mother, and homemaker lies a woman who can transform Williams Sonoma goods into deadly weapons.
In a six-episode series that teases brilliance, I found myself captivated by the unique blend of storylines created by Joe Barton (Giri/Haji). The show dances between deeply psychological explorations of the human impact of espionage, a witty critique of a genre now overflowing, and a heartwarmingly cheesy Christmas tale. Despite its eclectic mix, Black Doves consistently manages to deliver a satisfying viewing experience, making its chaotic charm a true triumph.
As Christmas draws near, Helen and Wallace find themselves with a busy schedule, attending multiple office functions and their twins’ school play (Taylor Sullivan and Charlotte Rice-Foley). Meanwhile, Wallace is handling a growing international crisis stemming from the unexpected demise of the Chinese ambassador to the U.K. and the disappearance of his daughter Kai-Ming (Isabella Wei). Simultaneously, Helen seems engrossed in the investigation of civil servant Jason’s murder and that of two of his associates, as she has been involved in an affair with him.
Helen is, as I’ve already mentioned, a spy, but not for MI5 or MI6 or the CIA or any of the other traditional organizations that have been the focus of a recent avalanche of programming. She’s a Black Dove, part of a private intelligence-gathering operation fronted by Sarah Lancashire‘s Reed. The information Helen has been able to get through her husband, considered a future prime minister, is extremely valuable. This in turn makes her very useful to Reed, especially since that information is sellable to the highest bidder.
“We’re a capitalist organization, not an ideological one,” Reed explains to Helen in a flashback.
Indeed, capitalism represents a particular set of beliefs or principles,” Helen explains – a truth that I often wish was explicitly stated rather than implied.
Recognizing that Jason’s demise could potentially lead Helen to experience either a career-ending emotional collapse or embark on a clandestine mission fueled by vengeance, Reed calls upon Sam, a long-term associate of Helen who had been away in self-exile in Rome for seven years, to return. Prior to his departure, Sam left behind an emotionally wounded partner (played by Omari Douglas as Michael) and an unpaid debt owed to Lenny, a figure associated with another criminal enterprise where Sam served as a “trigger man.
Escalations of political intrigue, violence and seasonal jovialities ensue.
In essence, Paramount+’s series “The Agency” explores the mental turmoil that undercover work can cause. Instead, Barton delves into how this emotional toll affects various relationships, both personal and professional. Sam struggles with his past mistakes involving Michael, while Helen grapples with the loss of her genuine love, Jason, and the strain on her marriage to Wallace, which, despite being strained, still holds some affection—although it’s built on a foundation of artifice.
There are professional relationships that involve mentorship, such as Reed’s with Helen and Sam’s with Lenny. Additionally, there are strong partnerships at work, particularly the tight bond between Helen and Sam, and the connection between Williams (Ella Lily Hyland) and Eleanor (Gabrielle Creevy), who are essentially teammates (Sam clarifies that it’s not gender-specific). These relationships were formed under challenging circumstances early in the season.
Williams points out that their profession isn’t only about business, considering the high price tag attached to it, when discussing the inevitable solitude it brings.
There remains a certain nobility, or strong sense of patriotism, in the actions portrayed by characters within The Agency. Barton recognizes that this isn’t characteristic of capitalistic espionage. Despite this, he strives diligently to make the characters relatable and endearing, which is more effective when one doesn’t overanalyze it.
The structure and operations of these professional organizations may evoke memories of the intricate assassin’s guild depicted in the movie “John Wick”. They share similarities through recurring phrases and principles of conduct. Each gathering of their leaders takes place at distinct London locations, showcasing impressive choices in location scouting or set design.
In this scenario, instead of Ian McShane leading the way, these organizations appear to be strictly ruled by powerful matriarchs. It’s unclear whether Lenny and Reed are at the peak of their hierarchies or just the highest levels we’ve seen. Are there other groups not managed by women with androgynous names? That remains uncertain. However, due to Lancashire’s continued dominance and Hunter’s enduring mystery, and the addition of a new boss character played by a late-arriving actress (whom I won’t reveal), it seems plausible that this is indeed a ruthless and deal-driven world entirely governed by women.
Although I’m concerned that complex mythology might make subsequent seasons resemble the “Wick” series negatively, there are numerous aspects that pique my curiosity and demand further exploration. For now, I choose to view these unanswered questions as potential plot points for future journeys, rather than oversights in the storyline that should have been addressed.
Barton skillfully grasps the traditions of his genre, yet struggles to inject depth into the primary storyline. However, he manages to prevent the tension between China, England, and the United States from swallowing the entire series. In fact, the second season of “The Diplomat” provides a good example of how such a vacuum can overshadow the strong aspects in an otherwise commendable production. Nonetheless, when characters are chasing leads and uncovering secrets, “Black Doves” remains engaging but ordinary.
As a gamer, what truly sets the drama apart for me is how the grisly remnants of the violence echo long after the sudden and intense scenes have passed. This is particularly evident when characters continue their discussions, dripping with splatters of blood from the carnage.
Those conversations are really where Black Doves lives and thrives. Knightley and Whishaw are good separately but wonderful together, their characters freed from sexual tension to build their bonds around trauma, professionalism and compassion. Her simmering fierceness is well complemented by his haunted weariness, and when the series is just Sam and Helen sitting in cars talking, it’s as strong as any show this year. The dialogue is funny, theatrically complex and peppered with references that are smarter and more meta than required, all delivered by two stars relishing Barton’s wordiness. Very nearly as compelling are the scenes with Hyland and Creevy, a naturally comic duo given gravity by what Williams and Eleanor do for a living.
In Black Doves, numerous elements unfold simultaneously. It features love stories intertwined with deception, undertones of Yuletide salvation, and both startling and exaggerated violence. At times, directors Alex Gabassi and Lisa Gunning have difficulty sustaining pace and tension, but there are instances where they excel, creating a captivating portrayal of London during the holiday season that ties together the film’s dramatic fluctuations.
Barton hints at his bold approach with the frequent play of “Fairytale of New York” by The Pogues, a song that skillfully mixes sweetness and bitterness, a combination rarely attempted in seasonal songs. His audacity is certainly commendable, though I’m not sure how effectively he’s carried it out. I’m eagerly waiting to see what Barton and the Black Doves have planned for the upcoming second season, given that it has already been ordered.
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2024-12-04 17:55