I loved Peaky Blinders. Each episode, each season, left me saying, “Holy shit, these people are good.”
I had heard faint rumblings about it for months, maybe longer, but never bothered to watch it. What kind of a name is “Peaky Blinders” anyway? I’ll tell you what kind of name it is. It’s the name of the best damn TV series I’ve ever watched. This is not to take away from many other series I love – like The Last Kingdom, which I’m currently enjoying (post coming soon about how the books are even better than the Netflix show).
But damn, it was so good, it made me search my soul and feel like I learned some things about myself and about humanity in general.
Specifically, I loved:
- The Shelbys, a horribly dysfunctional family that stayed true until the end.
- Tommy (Cillian Murphy): his ambition, his drive, his complex character.
- The brothers, who fought and cursed each other, but always had each other’s backs.
- The complex nature of every character who earned screen time. Nobody is perfect, but many are admirable, or at least understandable. This is a show that repeatedly exposes and examines the core of what it means to be human.
- The convincing portrayal of the era, post-WWI England, and the “gritty” realism shown (often).
- The acting and sets, which all felt very real, very well done. Such a nice contrast to the horrid acting and forgettable (or worse, laughable) sets seen in so many big budget films and other productions that should never have been, such as the plague of super-hero movies that has infected the last decade of entertainment media.
- The plot, which is always moving in a meaningful direction, but never too fast, never so far that the story becomes uninteresting.
Bravo to Steven Knight, Caryn Mandabach, and everyone associated with the production.
Now go watch it, by order of the Peaky Blinders.