Slow Horses: Dark humor and psychopaths await
It’s a strange thing, isn’t it, how a show about the misfits and castoffs of the intelligence world can feel so… human? I’ve found myself utterly captivated by the world of Slow Horses, a world where the stakes are high, but the characters are even higher, prone to spectacular failures and occasional, improbable triumphs. It’s the very essence of these characters, these “slow horses” exiled to Slough House for their mistakes, that makes the show so compelling, and it's a sentiment echoed in the source material by Mick Herron. As A.O. Scott notes, Herron’s writing is deeply steeped in a particular kind of British cynicism and wit, a language of sarcasm that forms the very foundation of this universe.
You see, these aren't your typical slick, Bond-esque spies. They’re the ones who screwed up, who landed on the wrong side of MI5’s expectations, and now they’re relegated to a dusty purgatory. Yet, within that purgatory, there’s a spark. Take the latest episode, for instance. What a ride! We witnessed a moment of such darkly comic catastrophe that it's hard to fathom how anyone could recover. It's this volatile mix of incompetence and sheer, unadulterated bad luck that keeps us glued to the screen.
What struck me most recently was the actor Tom Brooke’s perspective on his character, Coe. He observes that the more Coe kills, the happier he seems to become, calling him a "real psychopath." This is a chilling thought, especially when you consider the character’s backstory, a tale of torture and transformation that has clearly pushed him to the extreme. It's a far cry from the seemingly straightforward blunders of others, like Roddy’s desperate attempts to outwit the system, which, as one report points out, ultimately lead him right into the hands of his adversaries. It’s a testament to the show’s ability to explore the full spectrum of human — and sometimes not-so-human — behavior within its espionage framework.
And then there’s the ever-present, delightfully grumpy Jackson Lamb, played with such magnificent gravitas by Gary Oldman. Even when his agents are making, shall we say, "epic scale" fuckups, Lamb seems to possess an uncanny intuition for who can actually get the job done. As Brooke suggests, Coe might be one of the few individuals Lamb truly trusts, an acknowledgement of a shared, perhaps grim, understanding of the world. It’s this intricate web of relationships, this blend of disdain and reluctant reliance, that makes the world of Slow Horses so richly textured.
As we gear up for more episodes, one can’t help but wonder: how much further can these characters fall before they might just find their footing, or will they continue to spiral in their own uniquely chaotic way?
You see, these aren't your typical slick, Bond-esque spies. They’re the ones who screwed up, who landed on the wrong side of MI5’s expectations, and now they’re relegated to a dusty purgatory. Yet, within that purgatory, there’s a spark. Take the latest episode, for instance. What a ride! We witnessed a moment of such darkly comic catastrophe that it's hard to fathom how anyone could recover. It's this volatile mix of incompetence and sheer, unadulterated bad luck that keeps us glued to the screen.
What struck me most recently was the actor Tom Brooke’s perspective on his character, Coe. He observes that the more Coe kills, the happier he seems to become, calling him a "real psychopath." This is a chilling thought, especially when you consider the character’s backstory, a tale of torture and transformation that has clearly pushed him to the extreme. It's a far cry from the seemingly straightforward blunders of others, like Roddy’s desperate attempts to outwit the system, which, as one report points out, ultimately lead him right into the hands of his adversaries. It’s a testament to the show’s ability to explore the full spectrum of human — and sometimes not-so-human — behavior within its espionage framework.
And then there’s the ever-present, delightfully grumpy Jackson Lamb, played with such magnificent gravitas by Gary Oldman. Even when his agents are making, shall we say, "epic scale" fuckups, Lamb seems to possess an uncanny intuition for who can actually get the job done. As Brooke suggests, Coe might be one of the few individuals Lamb truly trusts, an acknowledgement of a shared, perhaps grim, understanding of the world. It’s this intricate web of relationships, this blend of disdain and reluctant reliance, that makes the world of Slow Horses so richly textured.
As we gear up for more episodes, one can’t help but wonder: how much further can these characters fall before they might just find their footing, or will they continue to spiral in their own uniquely chaotic way?
