Screw the presidential candidates' godawful positions on foreign policy. What's their plan to ban the use of Billie Eilish's 'you should see me in a crown' in TV shows? People have surely had enough. This tangent is brought to you by the first season of Sweetpea, a new series with a murderous blend of psychological thriller and dark comedy in its DNA. Ella Purnell plays Rhiannon Lewis, an office administrator for a local newspaper in the English town of Carnsham, who also happens to have a terminal case of being a wallflower. We meet Rhiannon at a moment when things aren't going very well. Her dad Tommy (David Bark-Jones) and dog die, her dopey boss and the paper's editor-in-chief Norman (Jeremy Swift) denies her nervously delivered application to become a junior reporter, instead opting to hire nepo baby AJ (Calam Lynch) for that job, and one-time fling Craig (Jon Pointing) can barely look at her direction now.
Making matters worse, dad's death inspires Rhiannon's sister Seren (Alexandra Dowling) to try and sell his house, in which Rhiannon also lives, inviting the unwelcome presence of realtor Julia (Nicôle Lecky) who also happens to be her former bully. Oh no! One night, when Rhiannon comes across a rude, drunk guy, she finally snaps and ends up stabbing him to death. This awakens a taste for blood and unlocks something in her confidence, leading to a promotion to junior reporter and writing about the murder—which annoys arrogant senior writer Jeff (Dustin Demri-Burns)—Craig courting her romantically and AJ becoming a reliable, flirty work partner. As the body count increases along with the number of people on Rhiannon's kill list and the volume of her voice, these murders also draw the attention of detective Marina (Leah Harvey).
''When it rains, it pours'' isn't just the general description for weather in England or for the gloomy setting of the first episode, but it very much describes our main character's journey towards their inevitable breaking point as well. The mental toll turns into an overwhelming beast for Rhiannon, who's portrayed as small and frail as far as Purnell's physicality goes, becoming a manifestation of rage in its final form. This storyline takes a stab at gender politics, mental health and the purpose of justice. We also witness how she is stripped of the burden of morality as it pertains to humans since she herself is not being perceived with full humanity; this reverts her back to the extremely primal idea of survival of the fittest, pushing her to kill her way upwards the food chain.
One could say that Rhiannon is a dark knight who goes a wee mad, murders a man and needs to avoid arrest eventually. Considering the prominent placement of a poster featuring Robert Pattinson, maybe she was inspired by the characters in 'The Batman', 'The Lighthouse' and 'Good Time', and mixed them all together. Who knows?
Adapting a novel by C.J. Skuse, showrunner Kirstie Swain and her writers' room (including Krissie Ducker) do a great job hooking the viewer with the slick first two episodes. Comedic might be a slightly misleading adjective to use when talking about the writers colouring the story with shades of dark comedy—cheeky fits the bill better—but the balancing act in terms of tone is pretty entertaining to watch. At times, the series can mix fun with sexiness, too. The provocation that the setup offers mixed with the storytelling's energetic rhythms, fine-tuned by editors Jo Walker and Lucien Clayton, manages to get you invested in the callousness that rears its ugly head and keeps asking you how far you're willing to go with Rhiannon in her quest for acknowledgment.
Purnell's performance also gets you to empathise with the character enough to make the moral grey area interesting, in addition to asking the same questions that the series asks with the premise. In that regard, Purnell delivers. However, it is obvious that she's somewhat miscast because regardless of the crew's best efforts, messy, dry brown hair and a presumably cheap foundation the character would use (hair and makeup designs by Helen Speyer) aren't able to turn this very attractive actor, who emotes a lot with her big eyes, into a believable wallflower who you wouldn't even notice (or suspect). Suspension of disbelief has its limits, you know.
Now, when it comes to the supporting players, the quality can vary a lot from scene to scene. Lynch and Pointing complement each other well enough to make Rhiannon's love life compelling, Lynch's AJ being a soft-spoken, considerate option whereas Pointing's Craig is a bit coarser and his fuckboi tendencies come out sporadically. Harvey does what she can with her straight-faced detective character and Demri-Burns does the same with Jeff's punchability (terrible luck while biking seems to be in the actor's contract, too). Lecky, unfortunately, turns out to be the weakest link as there's a lack of sincerity and attitude in the performance, which is a major problem because Julia is Rhiannon's main nemesis and her importance grows throughout the six-episode run.
Some of the uneven performances are partly a symptom of the series' overall disorder. Episodes three and four are partially enjoyable but a certain kidnapping plotline disrupts the momentum when you'd want the wheels to turn faster and the screws to tighten harder. And then we get to chapter five, which is not only the evil twin of the thrilling second episode, but also one of the worst TV episodes of the year. Character arcs are left to die, there are so many comically bad scenes that together snowball into an avalanche of ridiculousness and director Ella Jones loses control over the tone, blocking and performances after doing a wonderful job establishing everything. As a result, Purnell also starts doing capital A Acting, perhaps to subconsciously compensate for Lecky's lacklustre presence since they get paired up for most of the latter half.
Moreover, by the time we get to the finale, it's hard to grasp what the show is about. You'd assume it'd be saying something about young women being undervalued or underestimated, mental health, abuse, or maybe moralistic limits of revenge. Well, you'd assume wrong because we mostly get a massive mess thematically. We also don't learn enough about what makes Rhiannon tick or what she's actually interested in—what we learn about her is that she's pissed off, she might be bi-curious and she's self-conscious about her hair. It wouldn't be wrong if Sweetpea wanted to be a fun roller coaster ride and nothing more, but if your characters are nothing but plot devices, that experiment will probably be a dud.
Rhiannon getting lost in a cycle of violence brings us to a cliffhanger of sorts, though Swain and co. wrap up the first stretch of a cat-and-mouse game between Rhiannon and Marina so that shouldn't be a problem to anyone. But the question that it underlines is if we want to continue to hold our breaths alongside these characters. Because the story is so spotty and the characters are vapory, the answer is no, not really. The dark clouds of the frustrating second half sadly overshadow the lively spirit that captivates you during the first half, and even the sparkle in Purnell's eyes loses some of its glow because of it. It's not maddening, it's merely disappointing.
Smileys: Pacing, premise
Frowneys: Story, Nicôle Lecky, ending
She should lay the blame on the woke badgers. They're clearly up to no good.
2.5/5
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