We Are Lady Parts (Season 2)

Available on Channel 4

The first season of Nida Manzoor’s subversive comedy about an aspiring punk band consisting of Muslim women was an endearing reminder that there are few better means of dismantling unwelcome stereotypes than through comedy. It was an easily digestible cocktail of effective storytelling, note-perfect performances, and catchy tunes that announced the anointing of an essential new voice among the British comedy scene.  

Thankfully, there’s not a whiff of ‘difficult second album syndrome’ to be found in this follow-up series, which features cameos from Malala Yousafzai and Meera Syal and maintains the cheerful disposition of its predecessor while still exploring some of the quandaries that contemporary Muslims face on a daily basis. Once again, Anjana Vasan steals the show as the band’s folk-loving lead guitarist Amina, with fellow bandmates Sarah Kameela Impey, Juliette Motamed, Faith Omole, and Lucie Shorthouse also in good form.

Like many comedy series, there are aspects of We Are Lady Part’s narrative that are not entirely plausible, while other viewers might grow frustrated by its character’s lack of genuine development. However, these are minor quibbles that do not diminish the real USP of the series, which is its ability to showcase Muslim women in a celebratory way that is completely at odds with the unflattering portrayal that has long been pedalled by mainstream media.

Shōgun

Available on Disney+

If the demise of Game of Thrones still stings you and, like me, you are yet to be convinced of the merits of its prequel, House of the Dragon, then you will find comfort in FX’s mightily impressive Shōgun. Created by Rachel Kondo and Justin Marks, and adapted from James Clavell’s 1975 novel of the same name, it is the tale of an epic power struggle set in advance of Japan’s Edo period and featuring the sort of political chess moves that George R. R. Martin fans will be familiar with.

However, unlike Game of Thrones’ later seasons, Shōgun takes time with its storytelling, demanding the steadfast attention of its viewers (the majority of its dialogue is spoken in Japanese) but rewarding them with an intelligent and often surprising story of love, loss, and betrayal. On account of Kondo and Marks’ fateful reworking of Clavell’s source material, it is also an enlightening show that provides layman watchers such as I with a fascinating insight into the political, religious, and social tapestry of 1600s Japan.       

Shōgun is also anchored by three phenomenal performances from Hiroyuki Sanada, Cosmo Jarvis, and Anna Sawai. Sanada is ever compelling as Lord Yoshii Toranaga, a seasoned warlord whose clan is threatened by conspirators, and the perfect foil for Jarvis’ John Blackthorne, a maritime pilot who must quickly get to grips with the Japanese way of life. Meanwhile, Sawai’s turn as the tragic Toda Mariko is perhaps the most impressive of all, one that is impossible not to emotionally invest in on account of its raw authenticity.        

With a strong supporting cast and impressive visual effects to boot, it’s no surprise to see that Shōgun has already been renewed for a second and third season.

Boy Swallows Universe

Available on Netflix

Boy Swallows Universe, Netflix’s adaptation of Trent Dalton’s acclaimed novel, is a great example of a series that starts off strongly but fails to sustain momentum, ultimately meandering to a relatively inert finish.

Its first two episodes invoke a cacophony of emotions, thanks in no small part to Felix Cameron and Lee Tiger Halley’s solid performances as Eli and Gus, two brothers whose adolescence is upended by their unstable home life. Both actors are served well by John Collee’s screenplay, the tone of which oscillates between discomforting trauma and self-deprecating Australian humour, as is Travis Fimmel, who also shines as the boy’s affable, drug-dealing stepfather.

Sadly, after the engrossing denouement of its second episode, Boy Swallows Universe begins to incorporate fantastical elements that eventually veer it away from the grounded, Animal Kingdom-esque storytelling that initially make it so compelling. What we get in its place is a big-hearted but familiar teen tale of youth overcoming adversity in ways that are implausible at best, and downright silly at worst.

Still, even as its plot begins to depreciate, the show remains well acted throughout, with Phoebe Tonkin excelling as the protagonist’s troubled mother and Simon Baker also turning in a dependably sturdy performance as their equally pained patriarch.

Curb Your Enthusiasm (Season 12)

Available on NOW TV and Sky Atlantic

All good things must come to an end, and so we bid adieu to Larry David’s titanic sitcom Curb Your Enthusiasm. David has insisted that this is the series’ denouement, although long-term fans will recall its return in 2017 after a six-year hiatus and hope for a similar restoration at some point in the future.

Whether that would be a good thing is questionable for two reasons. Firstly, this final season is a little slow coming out the blocks, with David’s recalcitrant brand of comedy being neither as relatable or, by extension, funny as it once was. Still, Curb’s recent transition to longform storytelling means that even its more unassuming gags are often building towards a more meaningful crescendo.

That culmination comes with David standing trial for inadvertently contravening Georgia’s election laws, a premise which provides the perfect setting for the curmudgeon’s final reckoning. Over the course of a glorious final episode, Curb reels in a throng of famous faces and fan favourites to testify against its star’s character, providing the perfect swansong for a show that has always fundamentally been about the absurdity of societal norms.

While the journey to get to this swansong is a little underwhelming, it feels like a fitting end for one of the undisputed all-time great sitcoms. Nonetheless, with 12 seasons under its belt, this is a well that viewers can always return to when needed.

Fallout

Available on Prime Video

If The Last of Us offered hope for video game adaptations, Amazon’s big-budget reworking of Bethesda’s acclaimed Fallout series emphatically reaffirms it. 

While my experiences with the games are fleeting in comparison to those of its die-hard contingent, I can confidently say that the tone of this slick eight-part series is in keeping with the offbeat humour and worldview that makes them such a distinctive playing experience. For that, showrunners Geneva Robertson-Dworet and Graham Wagner deserve plenty of credit, as do co-producers Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy.

Indeed, Fallout has a lot in common with Nolan and Joy’s other small screen adaptation Westworld, in the sense that its futuristic setting, epic landscapes, and morally compromised characters make the potential of the show feel almost limitless. That being said, Westworld’s dramatic decline in quality after its stellar first season means that Fallout enthusiasts should approach its already announced second season with caution.

For the time being, it’s thumbs-up all around for those involved in the making of this post-apocalyptic romp, with this maiden voyage providing a potentially star-making vehicle for Ella Purnell, who excels in the lead role. While I admittedly didn’t care much for its barely plausible finale, there’s enough to like about this first iteration of Fallout to be excited for what comes next, especially when that seemingly includes more of Walton Goggins’ scene-stealing Ghoul.

True Detective: Night Country

Available on Now TV and Sky Atlantic

Nic Pizzolatto’s anthology series has always been an overly masculine affair, so its fourth instalment - which features two female leads and is written and directed entirely by Issa López - is immediately intriguing.

López has described it as a ‘dark mirror’ of True Detective’s seminal first season, with Kali Reis adopting Matthew McConaughey’s role as an unconventional and philosophical sleuth and Jodie Foster assuming Woody Harrelson’s position as her more traditional, but no less morally compromised, senior officer. However, the discomforting heat of Louisiana is here replaced by the perma-chill of the fictional town of Ennis in Alaska, from which the show lends its subtitle of Night Country.

From its onset, the series instantly showcases its influences. Eagle-eyed viewers will spot a DVD copy of John Carpenter’s The Thing occupying the shelves of a remote research station in which the show’s central crime takes place, and soon learn that this is no coincidence. Indeed, this is a far more supernatural affair than previous anthologies, with both of the aforementioned detectives having to wrestle with the ghosts of their past while trying to solve the series’ enduring mystery, which also encompasses themes of climate change, gentrification, and police corruption.

Of course, all of these elements need to be carefully balanced in order for them to be meaningful, and this is a task that López struggles with, particularly as the show enters its final stretch. While the eventual resolution of her whodunit is unpredictable, it feels out of kilter with the events that precede it, which excitingly allude to the show entering a new thematic territory before disappointingly falling in line with much of what we have seen previously.

Nonetheless, Reis and in particular Foster ensure this entry of True Detective will be remembered for its central performances, with the latter giving us an anti-hero protagonist that is impossible to like but one you root for nonetheless.

Mandy (Season 3)

Available on BBC iPlayer

It’s short, sweet, and bloody ridiculous. It’s Mandy, and it’s back for an epic third season.

You might recognise Diane Morgan as playing Philomena Cunk, a TV presenter who asks academics pressing questions such as ‘was Beethoven good at music?’ and ‘how many three wise men were there?’, but she also writes and portrays the endearingly hapless and incompetent character of Mandy Carter.

Season three sees Mandy get into all sorts of escapades, from preventing a plane bombing with her magnetic leg calipers and shooting poison darts at children to defend a protected tree, to housing an endangered bird species in her beehive of a hairdo. And let’s not forget the episode where her nan, who’s been unknowingly living in the attic all this time, orders a murderous baby off the dark web. Morgan’s comedic timing hits the mark in nearly every episode.

Although more surreal and outlandish than season one and two, each episode is still rooted in a sense of mundane reality, as exemplified by Mandy’s recurring appointments at the Job Centre and nail-salon chats with best friend Lola. However, the season ending feels quite dull and unfinished, with most of the episode spent waiting around for something funny to happen. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Still, the latest series of Mandy is a great laugh and perfect for popping on the TV when you’ve got fifteen minutes to spare. Just don’t get too excited for the season finale.

This Town

Since he put Birmingham back on the cultural map with Peaky Blinders, Steven Knight has almost single handedly been beating the drum for the need for TV programmes that are made in and represent the Midlands. With This Town, he has delivered - a show he sees as a natural sequel to Peaky. But ‘dow get me wrung’… this is very different.

This Town is almost instantly likeable for the heart and romanticism that runs through it. It has a similar feel to It’s A Sin, in that it takes serious cultural, societal and political themes but renders them through a softening human lens. Central character Dante (Levi Brown), is the romantic, aloof and dreamy filter through which the 1981 Handsworth Riots are tackled, and (mainly because of his charm) at no point does this show feel like a history lesson, lecture or rant. The gang of characters we follow fight to draw catharsis, artistry and happiness from their hardship.

Through a roster of similarly likeable characters, whose charm is in no small part drawn from their authentic regionalism, This Town walks the line between being philosophical and gritty/ romantic and real. Brothers Gregory (Jordan Bolger) and Dante embody this duality.

As mentioned, Dante is a dreamer. His ambition to form a famous rock band is idealistic and pure. He is serious about the love he feels for his crush Fiona (Freya Parks) and draws his greatest lyrics from standing over the M6.

His older brother Gregory, nicknamed Virgil, has had to learn how to navigate and operate within the real world. He has escaped the clutches of Birmingham gang culture by joining the army. When he is forced to return home, he is Dante’s protector and guide – the two of them must survive hell much like the Virgil and Dante of Dante’s Divine Comedy.

Birmingham is a big character in This Town that runs intrinsically through the fabric of the programme. Characters are made more characterful because of their accents and their regional outlooks. Gregory/ Virgil feels the most like an authentic Brummie who might frequent Saint Andrews. His accent is a channel for his persona: hard and disarming at the same time.

While it is under threat, we should think about the importance of the BBC in delivering on its promise for regional programming. No other channel produces shows like The Responder and This Town which so authentically showcase the unique character and history of the UK’s regions. The charm and representation evident in This Town make you wonder what a TV landscape without commitment to regional programming would look like…

Echo

Available on Disney+

It’s unfortunate that Marvel’s efforts to make their cinematic universe more inclusive has coincided with audiences becoming fatigued with their product. Echo, a spin-off from the 2021 mini-series Hawkeye centred on the deaf protagonist of the same name, is the latest such attempt and is, for the most part, a solid show. Alaqua Cox builds effectively on her debut performance in Hawkeye and delivers a Maya Lopez that is always compelling, a vigilante that is every bit as vulnerable as she is dangerous. Opposite her is MCU fan favourite Vincent D’Onofrio, an actor that was seemingly born to play the gargantuan crime lord Kingpin.

Head writers Amy Rardin and Marion Dayre build Echo on the concept of family, with Maya seeking to absolve herself of her adopted patriarch and reconcile with her bloodline, who are of Choctaw descent. Dayre’s work on Better Call Saul can be detected not only in how Echo diligently depicts Native American culture, but also rural America, with virtually all of the show being set in a sleepy town in Oklahoma.

This, along with the respectful incorporation of ASL, differentiates the show from what we have typically come to expect from Marvel, although its actual events are nothing out of the ordinary. At the very least, you come away from it wanting to see more of Maya and Kingpin, which is more than I can say about a lot of other recent MCU products.

The Brothers Sun

Available on Netflix

It’s an unfortunate coincidence that my viewing of The Brothers Sun coincided with my re-watching of The Sopranos, a show that Brad Falchuk and Byron Wu’s crime comedy is undoubtedly indebted to. Whether the influence of David Chase’s seminal series is conscious or otherwise, it casts a broad shadow over any show that is focused on the peculiarities of organised crime, one that many (including this one) struggle to evade.

Even if I were to disregard my concurrent viewing habits, it’s unsurprising that the shelf life of The Brothers Sun proved to be short, with Netflix recently confirming its cancellation after one season. That’s because, while it is not without its qualities, it is almost indistinguishable from the plethora of other culture-clash comedies that are available to stream. Its fight sequences, although well choreographed, are so gratuitous that they end up distracting from the show’s plot, which is itself a familiar and predictable affair.

This is a shame because, with Michelle Yeoh and Justin Chien both in fine form, there is something decent lying dormant in Falchuk and Wu’s baby. The focus on Taiwanese American culture is often intriguing and Chien’s performance is particularly affecting, although Yeoh’s star quality undoubtedly elevates proceedings when she is on screen. Ultimately, this might have worked better as a slick action-comedy film, as it is too unoriginal to sustain your interest over the duration of eight hours.

The Gentlemen

Guy Ritchie is back on our screens and we’re glad to have him there.  

The opening moments of The Gentlemen on Netflix instantly re-establish his signature style: larger than life gangsters that are real and surreal at the same time; comedy vignettes breaking up scenes of brutal violence; a story that masterfully walks the line between being experimental and populist, distinctive and entertaining. Ritchie isn’t credited as a writer and director on any episode, but what we know of him can be felt all over this production.

Like all of Ritchie’s work, The Gentlemen draws on well know gangster tropes. Eddie Halstead (Theo James), second in line to his father’s drug empire, inherits the family business and instantly establishes himself as “the grand duke of getting shit done”.  He usurps his useless older brother Freddy Halstead (Daniel Ings) in a mode reminiscent of The Godfather. Like Michael Corleone, Eddie is ex-military and is uses his can-do attitude to attempt to pull his family out of the drug game. Like Fredo Corleone, Freddie is an absolute liability that has audience’s screaming at the TV to let him get himself killed already.  

Theo James is great and his suave and sophisticated performance has social media calling for him to be the next James Bond. Eddie strikes a crackling criminal partnership with Suzie Glass (Kaya Scodelario), a compelling female protagonist who is able to match Eddie’s capability and talent in the drug racket.  The two’s chemistry is undeniable.   

A harsh evaluation of The Gentlemen would acknowledge that the set up was more satisfying than the resolution. We were giddy to be plonked back into a Guy Ritchie world after a while away, but the second half of the series had a lot more plot and business to complicatedly wrap up.  Nevertheless, it worked well enough and generated intrigue for a second series.

Criminal Record

Available on Apple TV

This eight-part crime procedural does not instantly feel like a natural fit for the big budget world of Apple TV. Its creator, Paul Rutman, is best known for his work on Vera, ITV’s modest and long-running whodunit, and several episodes are directed by Ken Loach’s son Jim. However, Criminal Record thrives because of these points of difference and two outstanding lead performances from Cush Jumbo and Peter Capaldi.

Jumbo and Capaldi play opposing detectives who are pitted against one another when the former begins investigating an old murder case. Although their dynamic and the overall structure of Rutman’s show is nothing out of the ordinary, the vim and vigour that Jumbo brings to her role, especially when contrasted with the quiet menace of Capaldi’s work, keeps this show interesting to the last.

Criminal Record also feels like a timely examination of the corruption and institutional racism that has long blighted many aspects of Britain’s police force, doing so with enough subtlety to task its audience with questioning problematic everyday behaviours that would more often than not go unchallenged. Rutman is a skilled writer and the dialogue of this show always feels authentic, even when its events intermittently stray beyond the believable.

With a second season already commissioned, Criminal Record has shown, along with Slow Horses, that Apple can do gritty as well as they do glitz.

Blue Eye Samurai

Available on Netflix

There’s plenty to like about this striking animated series from the husband-and-wife team of Amber Noizumi and Michael Green. Set during the 17th century, Blue Eye Samurai provides an absorbing insight into the history of Japan and specifically its Edo period, during which the country was ruled by the Tokugawa shogunate and had closed its borders.

The backstory of the show’s protagonist, Mizu (Maya Erskine), is born out of that isolationist foreign policy. Her mother was raped and killed by one or more of the only four white men left in Japan, and the blue eyes she consequently inherits makes her a target for discrimination. After being schooled by a blind swordsmith, Mizu becomes a bushi (warrior) and embarks on a quest to avenge her mother’s death.

On face value, Blue Eye Samurai is an entertainingly gory affair that keeps you on the edge of your seat for much of its eight-episode run, courtesy of its frenetic and inventive fight sequences and kick-ass lead character. However, the show’s true value can be found in its subtle analysis of societal divide and how convention can see those who are perceived as something ‘other’ - be that because of their ethnicity, gender, social standing, or disability - shunned by the masses. Noizumi and Green’s examination of sexual politics is particularly compelling and distinguishes the show as being more than a mere visual delight, although Blue Spirit’s stunning 2D/3D hybrid animation is definitely a key selling point (the 2.35:1 aspect ratio used for the final episode is befitting of the big screen).

With Erskine in slick form and Brenda Song, George Takei, Kenneth Branagh, and Masi Oka standing out amongst the supporting cast, Blue Eye Samurai has the exciting air of an epic world taking shape, which makes news of its impending second season all the more welcome.

Fargo (Season 5)

Available on Amazon Prime

History tells us that when a series begins to falter, it rarely recovers. For example, Homeland and Game of Thrones were both momentary cultural phenomena before drastically regressing into ‘what could have been’ territory on account of some wayward plot twists.

With that in mind, credit ought to go to Fargo creator Noah Hawley for delivering a fifth season which returns the crime caper to its former glories after its underwhelming third and fourth instalments. While it might be a tad reductive to describe Hawley’s approach this time around as being back to basics, there is a pleasingly familiar ‘small word’ feel to this series, with its action focused on Juno Temple’s resilient housewife and her attempts to evade the clutches of Jon Hamm’s abominable sheriff.

Temple and Hamm rightfully received Golden Globe nominations for their work, with each respectively providing a protagonist and antagonist that are easy to emotionally invest in. As has been the case previously with Fargo, the leads are joined by a solid supporting cast that this time around includes Jennifer Jason Leigh, who is in delightful form as a wealthy and uber-conservative matriarch, and Sam Spruell, who intrigues as a mysterious mercenary that gets caught in the crossfire of the series’ central dispute.

Although Fargo is undeniably at its most engrossing when contained to the confines of its humble Midwestern setting, and this entry does suffer as the scale of its conflict enlarges, the fine performances of its cast ensures that it remains a fun ride right until the very end.

One Day

Available on Netflix

Netflix’s adaptation of David Nicholls’ acclaimed novel offers an immediate improvement on its 2011 cinematic namesake by course-correcting the disastrous casting of an American as its Yorkshire-bred female lead. No disrespect to the usually excellent Anne Hathaway, but her depiction of Emma meant that Lone Scherfig’s film was always doomed to failure, whereas Ambika Mod, who was previously best known for her performance in the BBC’s This Is Going to Hurt, instantly feels a better fit and is arguably the MVP of this limited series.

Leo Woodall (The White Lotus) is also well suited to the role of Dexter, whose romantic odyssey with Emma provides the premise of Nicholls’ tale, which is reinterpreted by a writing team led by Nicole Taylor (of Three Girls acclaim). The chemistry between Mod and Woodall, particularly in the series’ earlier episodes, means that this is a more emotive affair than its aforementioned predecessor, but it remains questionable whether the literary excellence of One Day translates adequately to a dramatic medium.

When reading Nicholls’ novel, you cannot help but be absorbed by Dexter and Emma’s ‘will they or won’t they’ ordeal, which spans over a decade and is steadfastly revisited every St. Swithin's Day. Here, it’s hard not to become unsympathetic to both characters as they constantly let their own egos and neuroses prevent them from getting together, especially as it begins to harm others who fall within their orbit. The decision to cram the couple’s eventual union into two half-hour episodes also means that One Day’s traumatic ending feels oddly flat, with the 14-episode runtime also testing the patience of viewers that do not routinely engage with this sort of fare.

That being said, the performances of Mod and Woodall make this iteration of One Day a more than worthwhile engagement and at least erase the memory of prior adaptations.

Carol & the End of the World

Available on Netflix

Fans of Rick and Morty may be a little underwhelmed by this mini-series from one of its most celebrated writers, Dan Guterman, but that’s not to say that there’s no value to be found in Carol & the End of the World.

Described by its creator as a ‘love letter to routine’, the show is centred on the painfully introverted Carol (Martha Kelly), a middle-aged woman who struggles to find meaning in her life as Earth prepares for an unpreventable apocalypse. That is until she finds a job at a mysterious accountancy firm that is seemingly unperturbed by the coming Armageddon, a place where outsiders such as Donna (Kimberly Hébert Gregory) and Luis (Mel Rodriguez) can persist with the everyday while those outside fast track the completion of their respective bucket lists.

Like Rick and Morty, the humour of Carol & the End of the World is often misanthropic and subversive, with episodes often centred on concepts that would ordinarily be considered unworthy of intensive examination, such as the contents of a lost property room or the clandestine desires of Somali pirates. Still, this is a far more meditative experience that is almost brazenly content to progress its narrative at a pace that is leisurely enough to be misconstrued as being uneventful.

Viewers that persist with Guterman’s show will be rewarded, however, with a viewing experience that does remind you of the reassurance that can be found in routine, a feeling that was perhaps most keenly expressed when COVID-19 restrictions were eased. Like then, the culmination of an extraordinary event can be enough to make us better appreciate the dull embrace of the ordinary, and this odd show seems to understand that on an unusually profound level.

Mr. & Mrs. Smith

Available on Amazon Prime Video

Given that the 2005 film on which it is based hardly set the world alight, it’s surprising that Mr. & Mrs. Smith was given the big-budget reboot treatment. Nonetheless, the premise of Doug Liman’s picture (which itself was based on a 1996 series) is solid enough - two unconnected loners decide to become secret agents for a mysterious organisation and are matched together as the Smiths, a suburbanite couple whose faux New York home is befitting of an Architectural Digest walkthrough. Naturally, it’s not long before the pair fall in love and calamity ensues.

For a series like this to work, you need a lead duo with palatable chemistry, and Mr. & Mrs. Smith is thus indebted to Maya Erskine and Donald Glover, the latter of which co-created this reset with Francesca Sloane. Both are sufficiently chic enough to complement the sleek aesthetic of the show and their solid comic timing makes their often taut exchanges all the more entertaining, particularly as their relationship begins to wilt under the strain of a career in espionage.

Mr. & Mrs. Smith is also filled with fun cameos from talent as varied as Alexander Skarsgård, John Turturro, Michaela Coel, Paul Dano, Ron Perlman, Sarah Paulson, and Sharon Horgan in a manner that is not dissimilar to Rian Johnson’s Poker Face. Of these guest spots, it’s probably Parker Posey and Wagner Moura’s obnoxious rival agents that are the pick of the bunch, although it is mightily fun to see Dano play against type as the Smith’s ‘hot neighbour’.

While the series, like its aforementioned source material, has action sequences aplenty, these often feel secondary to the more compelling matter of the Smith’s love life, which is often presented in a manner that most couples will find relatable. Indeed, a criticism would be that, as you near the end of its eight-episode run, Mr. & Mrs. Smith seemingly feels the need to accelerate this dynamic in order to reach its expectedly combative ending, which feels detrimental to the arcs of both lead characters.

Nonetheless, Erskine and Glover’s shared magnetism means the first half of Mr. & Mrs. Smith more than makes up for the more formulaic episodes that inevitably make up its final act, leaving you with a surprisingly effective reboot.

Vigil (Season 2)

Available on BBC iPlayer

This second series of Tom Edge’s police procedural is most noticeable for its drastic change in setting, with the unique premise of its predecessor - which saw Suranne Jones’ resourceful inspector investigate a murder while aboard a nuclear submarine - replaced with more familiar fare. While this is not entirely to its detriment, it would be remiss of me not to admit that Vigil feels far less engrossing without the cabin-fever paranoia that characterised its first outing.

Nonetheless, when one adjusts to that change in direction you are undoubtedly rewarded with a solid conspiratorial thriller that is once again amplified by the stellar work of Jones and her co-lead Rose Leslie. Joining them for this season are Romola Garai and Dougray Scott, the latter of which makes for especially devilish fun as a senior military officer that is suspiciously keen to sweep a murderous incident involving a compromised combat drone under the carpet.

As was the case with its first season, and indeed other genre bedfellows, Vigil’s narrative touches on contemporary political issues - in this case, the UK’s ongoing sale of arms to Gulf countries - without ever really exploring them in depth. While its fictional setting of the Kingdom of Wudyan could be interpreted as being inspired by one of Britain’s many morally grey allies, Edge’s steadfast commitment to storytelling convention ensures that such parallels never overwhelm the espionage action that is on display.

The result is an at times difficult second album, but one that delivers enough of what we liked first time around to keep most viewers satisfied.

Archie

Available on ITVX

ITV have been steadily upping their game with regard to their dramatic output as of late and this four-part biopic, written by Jeff Pope, supports that claim. Featuring a note-perfect lead performance by Jason Isaacs, Archie chronicles the life and times of Cary Grant, one of classic Hollywood’s most iconic actors, and his unlikely journey from a poverty-stricken upbringing in Bristol to international stardom.

Pope’s screenplay adopts a non-linear approach to Grant’s life story by dovetailing between his more humble existence as Archibald Leach (his birth name) and the debonair star he would later become. The travails of those formative years, in particular the sectioning of his mother Elsie, helps to explain the troubles that befell Grant’s marriage to Dyan Cannon (Laura Aikman), which preoccupies much of the series’ narrative.

While far from groundbreaking, Archie is an effective examination of the innate duality that comes with celebrity and the havoc deep-seated childhood trauma can wreak even in adult life.

Time (Season 2)

Available on BBC iPlayer

The first season of Jimmy McGovern’s crime drama, which starred Sean Bean and Stephen Graham, was one of the standout shows of 2021, so you could forgive its successor for buckling under the weight of expectation. Nonetheless, the sophomore outing of Time is a similarly impactful affair, with McGovern and co-writer Helen Black turning their attention to the equally flawed institutions that are the UK’s women-only prisons.

Starring Bella Ramsey, Jodie Whittaker, and Tamara Lawrance, this two-episode series is centred on the plight of three unrelated women who are locked up on the same day; one is a heroin addict who soon discovers she is pregnant, the other a struggling single mother who is jailed for failing to pay her electricity bills, and the latter a lifer whose back story is shrouded in mystery.

Although each role is finely performed, a criticism of this instalment of Time would be that its modest runtime makes it difficult for each arc to be satisfactorily resolved. For example, Whittaker steals the show because we witness the painful degradation of her character as she is kept away from her three children, while Lawrance’s performance, through no fault of her own, eventually feels overshadowed due to the lack of resolution afforded to it by Black and McGovern.

That is a minor quibble though as, on the whole, Time successfully adheres to its creator’s modus operandi by shining a light on the misfortunes bestowed on people (usually those of a working class background) by systems that are not fit for purpose.