1 day ago
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A menopausal assassin has been a long time coming, even though there is literally no more perfect pairing in the world than a woman rapidly emptying of oestrogen and a gun. I blame the patriarchy, but I understand its unwillingness to confront the truth that if women were free to express themselves instead of raised in mental straitjackets, then armed at 40, the world would look very different indeed.
Keeley Hawes, who just gets better and more impressive with every outing, is that menopausal assassin, in the aptly named six-part series The Assassin. Julie is her name and trying to live quietly in Greece and spurning every overture of friendship in the village is her game. Alas, she is called by her handler Damian, after 10 years of quietude, to perform one more time. This happens just as her son Edward (Freddie Highmore, absolutely shining in what is essentially a light comic part in a bloody, murderous caper) comes to visit for the first time in four years too! Even hitwomen have to juggle home and work demands. Oh, and Edward’s gone vegan since they last spoke and she got wagyu steaks in for tea. Handlers and kids, eh? Anyway, Edward’s here to ask her about the fortune that landed in his account when he turned 30 and if it’s anything to do with the father she has always refused to tell him about. She, more or less, tells him to shut up and eat his goddamn tofu.
The Assassin is perfectly crafted preposterousness. It is stylish, witty, tightly written, even more tightly paced and takes the job of massively entertaining us at every turn with the proper amount of seriousness. It establishes its various plotlines swiftly and has us looking forward to their intersection whenever we have enough attention to spare, given that excellent things – from barbed exchanges between unmaternal mother and exasperated son to endless action sequences – are always happening in front of us.
Obviously the main plot revolves round Julie. She soon realises the man calling is not her real handler (just in time to stop her killing the woman he has given as the target, which turns out to be doubly lucky for her, in a twist which adds much to the preposterousness and, I hope, the gaiety of the viewing nation). Then, after a massacre of almost the entire village by a very bad sniper trying to kill her, she sets herself the task of finding out what’s happened to the real Damian and hopefully finding out why she is now a marked woman and more and more people are trying to kill her.
This first involves pretty much commandeering the yacht belonging to her former target, Kayla (Shalom Brune-Franklin) and her berk of a brother Ezra (Devon Terrell), scions of a mega-rich mining family owned by a man called Aaron Cross (Alan Dale. One day “Him from Neighbours! My God, he’s doing well!” will not be my first thought when I see him, but that day is not yet here), and trying to get to Albania. An old colleague, Sean (Jack Davenport), arrives on a jet ski. Is he here to help or hinder? We, and a variety of weapons, soon find out.
Meanwhile! Another plot strand is unfurling in a Libyan prison. Its newest inmate is a Dutch man called Jasper (David Dencik), who possibly has dirt on Cross that will get him out of said Libyan prison but not before he has added – with the help of the terrifying Russians who “adopt” him in jail – his quotient of gory set pieces to the series. He, or most of him at least, eventually escapes and disappears into the desert to find Plot A.
Meanwhile again! Plot C begins in London, with the astonishingly unexpected but always welcome advent of Gina Gershon as a mysterious woman called Marie who attends an art class in order to draw a picture of someone we recognise as Edward and a speech bubble coming from his gobsmacked gob the narratively fertile phrase “You’re my father?” Aaaaand scene!
It’s so much fun. Hawes is so good, so funny, Highmore so nimble and perfectly pitched and everyone else – including Gerald Kyd as villager Luka, who survives the massacre and follows the woman who is clearly his best hope of safety to the yacht, where they bond over middle-aged medication – turning in brilliant performances. Do not come looking for realism or social commentary or anything else that clearly has no place here – or I will smash your head in with a rock, like Julie does to her adversaries, especially if I’ve not replaced my HRT patch on time. Consider yourselves warned.
English (US)