It has been a big year for big names engaging in small-screen espionage, but Black Doves may be the starriest yet. This nightmare before Christmas, which stars Keira Knightley, Ben Whishaw and Sarah Lancashire, adds a festive twist to the spy genre, as the eponymous shady organisation of mercenaries find themselves wrapped up in a conspiracy that is – as these things always are – bigger than they first think it is going to be.
With that stellar cast, and its sombre trailers, I had expected it to be a straight-faced thriller. In fact, what emerges from the carnage that takes place before the opening titles begin is pulpy popcorn TV. Knightley plays Helen Webb, a spy who has infiltrated the top levels of the British government by assuming a false identity and marrying a man who would go on to become defence secretary. Her position at the heart of the establishment gives her ample opportunity to joke about how dull Tory wives can be, and to assist the Black Doves in passing on state secrets to the highest bidder. Whishaw is Sam, a sensitive trigger man (which is a nice way of saying assassin), who kills people to order, for large amounts of money, but is conflicted about it. And Lancashire – sporting sharp bob, strong tailoring, deadly whisper – is Reed, the Black Doves’ icy boss and overlord.
When the Chinese ambassador to the UK is found dead of an apparent heroin overdose, and his party-loving daughter goes missing, it sparks a chaotic chain of events which ends up tearing through Downing Street, gangland London and the government agencies of various nuclear-armed nations, all threatening to go to war. Given such a heady cocktail of ingredients, it’s strange that the series comes across as a slow burn to begin with – even more so given that it is only six episodes long. But once Helen and Sam get the old band back together, for one last job etc, it finds its feet. The realisation that this is not entirely serious, and is in fact fairly arch and cartoony, gives it a lift, and reveals a cheeky personality that shores up some of its more shaky narrative ground.
Creator Joe Barton is also responsible for The Lazarus Project and Giri/Haji, and, like both of those series, this has a strong, graphic novel-style aesthetic, sometimes at the cost of an entirely coherent plot. But this is the kind of show that it’s best not to overthink, because it revels in being so daft and overblown. Black Doves takes place in a neon-lit, noir-ish London where machine guns are rife, mass shootings happen on every street corner with onlookers barely batting an eyelid, and people are frequently blasted to pieces, leaving gory residue all over Helen’s face.
It is packed with fantastic performances, though I am not entirely convinced by Knightley’s character. Helen is both unbelievably tough and unbelievably soft, a queasy hybrid that doesn’t always work if she’s supposed to be a ruthless killer. The same goes for Whishaw’s Sam, whose conscience appears only when convenient to the plot. However, it is almost profligate with its supporting cast and characters. Poor Things’ Kathryn Hunter is predictably fabulous as Lenny, a tracksuit-wearing power broker of sorts, to whom Sam owes a debt, while Gabrielle Creevy and Ella Lily Hyland play a younger, hungrier pair of trigger men (the term is gender neutral, we are reliably informed), and make a darkly comic double act. It is so casual with cameos that it introduces several well-known actors, as if about to bring in significant newcomers, before bumping them off quickly and unceremoniously. This makes it feel pleasantly reckless.
By episode three, its gleeful excess had won me over. Inevitably, this will earn comparisons to the other big spy shows of the year. It isn’t as composed or as witty as Slow Horses, and not as self-serious as The Day of the Jackal, but in among the chaos, it finds its own voice. That voice is garbled at times, but best not to overthink it. This is a schlocky thriller, stuffed like a turkey with action, twists and a good sense of humour. Netflix has already commissioned a second series, which might be why the ending feels both protracted and open-ended. Clearly, it’s hedging its bets. But if your idea of festive fun involves guns, gore and more white powder than a snowstorm in Lapland, this spy spectacle should be at the top of your gift list.
• Black Doves is on Netflix now.
