The simple verdict on Legends is that it’s outstanding; the reasons for that are multifaceted. For one thing, it’s a period piece based on real events that evades the familiar structural pitfalls of the biopic genre in might have been. For another, it assembles a classic mission-based task force practically screaming for episodic churn, even as it feels completely self contained. It satisfies most expectations and subverts others. The result is a compelling series with roots stretching backwards both in TV history and actual history, likely to please fans of both modern prestige serials — indeed, it has drawn comparisons to The Wire — and classic network television. Especially, I might add, if they’re spy-genre enthusiasts, which situates this one in a unique, very specific sweet spot for me.
In the early nineties, as Margaret Thatcher’s reign of error is grinding to a close, an edict flows down to Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise: take down the organized crime outfits poisoning the streets of England with heroin. HMCE is a safe, routine government department; indeed, that was part of the appeal for former undercover man Don Clarke (Steve Coogan), to whom this Herculean task falls. HMCE is hardly equipped to run a deep-cover operation against Middle Eastern drug cartels or Liverpudlian dope dealers (let alone both). But they do have a smattering of bored, capable staffers weary of checking suitcases and pushing paper. Among these malcontents is Guy Stanton (Tom Burke), a street tough made right, who turns out to be the field-agent unicorn in their midst. Guy goes “full legend” to infiltrate a London cartel full of dangerous Turkish and Kurdish gangsters, while his new colleagues Kate (Hayley Squires) and Bailey (Aml Ameen) head north to Liverpool to take on the smugglers whose street networks are spreading heroin across the United Kingdom. With limited support, virtually no funding, and insane levels of thankless risk, the untested but resourceful operatives seek to pull off a truly impossible mission: shutting down the ruthless criminal gangs responsible for casting England into an epidemic of opioid addiction.
Does The Wire comparison hold up? Well, yes and no. At just six episodes, Legends is streamlined in the English production manner, unfolding at a brisk clip — as opposed to The Wire, which is epic in scope and slow-builds its urban world with patient mastery. That said, one can see a certain resemblance, given the task-force-based mix of crime and spy tradecraft, and the two shows’ similar approaches to examining life on either side of the law — both the broken institutions enforcing it, and the opportunistic criminal enterprises defying it. (I recall a similar comparison being made about the tragically short-lived Canadian show Intelligence, which swims in the same kind of waters, showing how law enforcers and law breakers may just be different sides of the same coin. It didn’t quite last long enough to build a legacy as “Canada’s The Wire,” alas; give Legends three or four more seasons and it might well become the UK’s.)
Honestly, though, The Wire wasn’t the first comp to cross my mind, mid-watch. I was too busy revelling in the perfectly clocked spy-fi of it all. It’s basically a master class of the genre, especially those team-based spy shows originating with my first TV love, Mission: Impossible — or, perhaps more apropos, British shows like The Sandbaggers or MI-5. While Legends’ story isn’t precisely in that episodic vein, it does break down into manageable set pieces and sub-operations, all while emphasizing the individual specialties and engaging team dynamics of that kind of ensemble drama. The fact that it’s all derived from actual events — in particular the undercover career of the real Guy Stanton, whom Burke brings ferociously to life — is miraculous, because it all plays out with such finely crafted televisual rhythm. Perhaps the history is merely the big-picture springboard to which writer/creator Neil Forsyth brought his keen authorial instincts, crystallizing a fictional scaffolding around the inspiring core reality. However it was conceived, the results are eloquent and compelling.
And what a spectacular ensemble it builds. Burke holds center stage powerfully in the crucial role, but Ameen, Coogan, Squires, Jasmine Blackborow, and Douglas Hodge all make excellent contributions to the implausible team’s fractious chemistry. One also mustn’t overlook the supporting work of Gerald Kyd as Mylonas, the shifty Greek operator who helps facilitate Guy’s cover, nor the steely, trope-subverting performance of Charlotte Ritchie as Guy’s wife Sophie — a character who mercifully sidesteps the “concerned wife” stereotype so familiar to this type of crime tale. With Numan Acar, Johnny Harris, Tom Hughes, and Con O’Neill (among others) providing more-than-capable villainy, it’s a superb acting showcase across the board.
Since I can’t seem to reflect on this series without situating it among its genre peers, one more thought: I imagine someone at Netflix walked away from a screening of Legends thinking they may have found their answer to Apple’s Slow Horses. Blackborow and Coogan, especially, insert just the right touches of humor to the tense proceedings to suggest the show could master that tricky tonal balance of dark, severe stakes and unexpected comic counterweight.
All this is to say that Legends earns many lofty comparisons, and for good reason. But even if you stripped them away, it should still stand up quite nicely for most modern viewers simply by virtue of its quality as a stirring, confidently produced narrative. It’s still unclear if this is a pristine limited series or the start of a beautiful friendship; either way it earns my whole-hearted recommendation.
