“That’s the thing about assassins,” says Keira Knightley’s Helen Dawson. “They don’t like questions because they don’t like answers.”
There are several spycraft shows currently running, and every streaming service has at least one; there are those like Slow Horses and The Night Agent that’ve defied the odds with their renewals, as well as cancelled-too-soon gems like The Old Man and The Ipcress File that never fulfilled their potential. What’s distinguished Black Doves is that it’s a series that’s about spies themselves, and not espionage in the abstract; there’s a world of difference in how Joe Barton’s relentlessly entertaining thriller is focused on interpersonal dynamics. There’s an instinct to overwhelm the viewer with details about the geopolitical context at play, but in all likelihood those that do the dirty work wouldn’t take any interest in it.
The excessive gaps between seasons can make it hard to keep up with modern streaming shows, but Black Doves doesn’t pick up immediately after the first season’s cliffhanger. Both protagonists are reintroduced in high-energy situations that, while requiring expertise, don’t really cause them to break a sweat. Knightley’s Helen is in the midst of a heist to extract luxury items from a Russian summit, but the gunplay is less taxing than her newfound degree of discretion; her husband, Wallace Webb (Andrew Buchan), was elevated to the office of Great Britain’s Prime Minister following a conspiracy that ousted his predecessor. She’s a mother of two in the middle of couple’s counseling, and the domestic components aren’t just used for comic relief. It’d be a lot less interesting if Helen’s marriage was purely a means to extract information, but it turned out that the politician she was sent to spy on was a forward-thinking, compassionate guy with a dedication to global democracy. That his honor got him promoted is great for Helen’s spy career, but a complication on her duties as a mother and wife.
Ben Whishaw’s Sam is the polar opposite. His musing that “friendship is a delicate thing in our business” isn’t only because he’s fallen out (or killed) every man that he developed feelings for, but due to his sneaking suspicion that he’s grown a conscious. The stakes of Black Doves are personal, and it’s communicated first-and-foremost that Sam and Helen are intent to cover for any leaks about the covert assassin program that they pledged obligation to a decade prior. It’s obviously in their best interest to prevent conspirators like Sam Riley’s Patrick from initiating tensions between Washington, London, and Moscow, but it’s more important for Helen to protect her children. On paper, Sam would be the ideal agent because he’s never committed, but the issue with showing no loyalty is that he can’t expect to get any in return.
There’s a remarkable tonal balance to how the minutiae of cloak-and-dagger maneuvers in Black Doves are calculated because it’s preposterous and grounded. This isn’t The Bourne Identity where all the characters have unlimited stamina and years of instinctual training, but it’s also not Fast & Furious where all logic is thrown out the window. Action scenes aren’t inserted just to pick up the pacing, but because there’s a specific goal in mind, whether an extraction, a hit, or an exchange of information. That doesn’t mean it's not brutal; while neither of them would be traditionally defined as “action stars,” both Whishaw and Knightley look like they could kill people. They put in the training, which is evident by a tracking shot of a firefight in the episode "Put Your Head On My Shoulder" that weaves in and out of an art gallery.
On a narrative level, Black Doves is fairly straightforward about career contractors desperate to get out. Al Pacino’s The Godfather: Part III quote of “just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in!” is the perfect summation, and it’s a quote inarticulately referenced in Black Doves Season 2 by Williams (Ella Lily Hyland) and Eleanor (Gabrielle Creevy), two Gen Z agents assigned to assist Sam. The inclusion of two bickering queer assassins with a fixation on popular culture references would seem diametrically opposed to the gritty tone established by Black Doves, but it’s one of the smartest decisions made in Season 2. If Helen and Sam are interested in the end of their brutal professions, then there needs to be a reminder that the shadowy world of intrigue will not automatically disappear upon their retirement. Most people in their line-of-work aren’t given the opportunity to go out on their own terms.
That Black Doves Season 2 is lighter on its feet than its predecessor is a reflection of the routine that its characters have slipped back into. The first season showed the whiplash involved with digging up the past; Helen is put in the middle of the action for the first time in years, and Sam’s dragged into a team assignment after much time spent going solo. In Season 2, the characters have fallen back into habits, and so it would make sense to have a more fatalistic sense-of-humor about the frequency in which they’re exposed to death. It’s also important for a well-balanced show; if Williams and Eleanor spend too much time on their quips, then Sam’s there to call them out for being obnoxious.
There is some suspension of disbelief required to buy into where Season 2 is closed off, but the strength of the ensemble is enough to cover from the occasional illogic. Ambika Mod, who previously co-starred with Whishaw on the underrated medical drama This Is Going To Hurt, has a star-making role as Sam’s protege Laila. Similarly, the marital strife between Helen and Wallace is surprisingly thoughtful, especially since Buchan is given the chance to be more than an empty suit. There’s an eclectic soundtrack that includes everything from “Sinnerman” and “100 Miles” to “She’s Always A Woman” and “Everybody’s Gotta Live;” for a show this polished, it’s earned the right to have a few cheeky needle drops.