This article contains minor spoilers for episode one of Joan.
The new six-part ITV crime series, Joan, opens with The Pretenders’ rebellious rock anthem Brass in Pocket. It’s a fitting choice that immediately sets the tone for the series. As Chrissie Hynde’s vocals kick in, we’re introduced to our protagonist – a woman who, like the song, will soon exude self-assurance and a touch of defiance, even in the face of overwhelming adversity.
Sophie Turner stars as Joan Hannington, whose journey from impoverished victim to notorious jewel thief unfolds in 1980s London. Based on true events, the series chronicles Hannington’s transformation into “the godmother” – the most infamous woman in the city’s criminal underworld.
The first episode establishes Hannington’s dire circumstances and the spark that ignites her criminal career. She is trapped in an abusive marriage to a violent man who physically abuses her and neglects their six-year-old daughter, Kelly. When he goes on the run, Hannington seizes the opportunity to escape, but not before facing the harsh realities of her situation – from being assaulted by gangsters to whom her husband owes money, to being pressured by undercover police to inform on him.
Circumstances force Hannington to place Kelly with an emergency foster family. This decision is made all the more poignant by the revelation of Joan’s own childhood in care, which explains her fierce determination to provide a better life for her daughter. Their relationship forms the first episode’s emotional core. It is why Joan takes her first tentative steps into illegality, beginning with stealing a car to visit Kelly at her new home.
This initial transgression evolves into more sophisticated cons. Her method of learning about jewellery by eavesdropping on wealthy women before landing a job at a jeweller’s offers a pointed commentary on class barriers. Hannington’s ability to mimic the accents and mannerisms of the affluent underscores the performative nature of social class and foreshadows her future success in high-end theft.
Joan doesn’t shy away from the darker aspects of its world, where the threat of male violence is a constant shadow. From her husband’s brutal abuse to the unwelcome advances of her new boss at the jewellers, the series portrays a reality where Hannington’s safety is perpetually at risk.
Yet these very threats fuel her determination to carve out a safer life for herself and Kelly. We watch as she takes increasingly bold steps, culminating in a scene where she swallows several diamonds to smuggle them out of the store. This moment marks a turning point for Hannington, signalling her commitment to her new life of crime.
Anti-heroines in British crime drama
Joan takes its place in a rich tradition of anti-heroines in British crime TV, a lineage that has been slowly but steadily growing since the turn of the millennium.
As noted by professor of television studies, Milly Buonanno in Television Antiheroines: Women Behaving Badly in Crime and Prison Drama (2017), it wasn’t until the noughties that “the rule of male prominence and power [was] challenged by a wave of anti-heroines who have made inroads into the criminal underworlds and have provided evidence of women’s capacity to be ‘good at being bad’ against the myth of female innocence”.
Hannington joins this pantheon of complex female characters, trail-blazed in the 90s by Jane Tennison (Helen Mirren) from Prime Suspect (1991). As TV critic Rebecca Nicholson has observed, Tennison’s influence “looms larger than is often acknowledged within modern television”. More recent additions to this lineage include characters such as Alice (Ruth Wilson) in Luther (2010) and Villanelle (Jodie Comer) in Killing Eve (2018) – each pushing the boundaries of how female characters are portrayed in British crime dramas.
Speaking about bringing Hannington to life on screen, Turner has said that she “was captivated by the character of Joan, she’s such a complex and extraordinary woman, both vulnerable and strong. She makes some terrible choices, unfortunately, but I think someone that a lot of people can relate to, and I just wanted to read more and more about her.”
Turner’s words encapsulate the hallmarks of the anti-heroine archetype – moral ambiguity, inner conflict, and a strange magnetism that draws viewers in despite (or perhaps because of) the character’s flaws. Her emphasis on Hannington’s relatability – even in the face of “terrible choices” – speaks to the human core of these anti-heroine stories.
But it’s crucial to approach these characters with a sense of discernment. As Buaonanno cautions, we should refrain from “uncritically celebrating characters of women in the business of crime”. The mere presence of criminal anti-heroines doesn’t equate to feminist achievement. But Joan does offer an opportunity for a nuanced exploration of themes such as gender, class and morality.
Whether Hannington’s journey will serve as a cautionary tale or a celebration of resilience remains to be seen. One thing is certain: Joan will challenge audiences to grapple with moral ambiguities as it explores the story of a working-class woman who forges her own path in the ruthless world of organised crime.
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Laura Minor does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
