At what point in the summer do you switch off your brain? When two thirds of the office has set their Slack to “away”? When your Instagram or TikTok feed (pick according to your generation) is flooded with images of Capri? When the air becomes so still and dry that plans extend to “lie very still on a bed”? Let us call the end of July, as we teeter on the hazy days of August, a good time to save our year’s progress, log out and enter smooth brain mode. And so in stalks the BBC’s Wolf, a six-part crime thriller beginning today, with enough teeth to bite and plenty of silliness for these feverish weeks.
Adapted from the Jack Caffery series by Mo Hayder, with a screenplay by Megan Gallagher, the series is half detective show half horror film (though the show frequently relies on some well-chosen cutaways, it is more gruesome than you might expect). It is also teaming with twists: ones you see coming, ones you can sense a few episodes off, ones that are satisfyingly mad. As such, it is difficult to discuss without incurring the wrath of spoiler nerds, but here are the basics: Jack Caffery (played by Ukweli Roach) is a detective with a troubled past (more on this later), who finds himself involved in a new case when he moves back to Monmouthshire, which we (both Caffery and the audience) learn about over two timelines.
Like all good crime stories, this takes place in a hard-to-reach countryside mansion (good luck finding a phone signal here!) owned by a haughty English family. Matilda (Juliet Stevenson, never less than professional) and Oliver Anchor-Ferrers (Owen Teale) have just returned to Monmouthshire with their sulky, Kate Bush-aping, 20-something daughter, Lucia (Annes Elwey). It’s here, on a fine Saturday, that they encounter two policemen, Honey (The Great’s Sacha Dhawan) and Molina (Game of Thrones’ Iwan Rheon, pleasingly unhinged as usual), here to investigate some weird goings-on on the anniversary of the brutal killing of two local teenagers, a cultish event known as “the Donkey Pitch murders”. (Over the course of six episodes, “Donkey Pitch” is uttered so many times it may make you question your sanity: a truly memorable marriage of words.) Soon enough, a crisis indebted to Michael Haneke’s Funny Games, ensues: a slow burn with bursts of terror.
Alongside this, Caffery is working through some personal history. He had previously moved back into his London childhood home, where he has nightly staring contests with the neighbour he believes abducted and killed his 10-year-old brother. While there are some effective moments in this storyline – usually relying on the inherent creepiness of children’s toys – it is merely a bridge to future seasons, which must be the hope: there are seven entries in the book series. As world-building goes, it’s not especially compelling. A plot with Caffery’s girlfriend is better, adding depth to a character who can be unintentionally distant.
Still, there’s a lot of fun to be had here, largely thanks to some clever pacing and witty flourishes. Even when the budget limits are clear (you may need to watch a set piece involving a forest cult through your fingers, and not because it’s particularly frightening), the show has an admirable scrappiness, ushering in a retro pleasure with storylines about heart transplants, killers with a penchant for wearing gas masks, a chilling dance number or two. None of it is particularly new, but it’ll keep you watching late. By the, uh, 16th twist, you’ll see its sprawling cast in a new light.
Perhaps the best part of all this is the chemistry: Rheon and Dhawan have a sparky spirit, the Chuckle Brothers meet Dexter. And while Roach’s individual scenes skew ponderous, his playfulness with everyone around him works much better. His colleagues can’t believe he doesn’t a drink (apparently owing to millennial trends, though I’d advise anyone who stares deep into their potentially murderous neighbour’s eyes to stay away from alcohol). An enemy-to-not-quite-lover relationship with DI Maia (Sian Reese-Williams) has a seductive charm. Most effectively drawn it the blossoming of DI Prody (Ciarán Joyce) and Caffery’s working relationship, two men who haven’t found successful companionship and are, to expand on the show’s title, lone wolves. The final twist? Maybe a show designed as a moreish, macabre whodunnit can also be heartwarming.
You can watch ‘Wolf’ on BBC1 on Mondays, and all six episodes are available to stream on iPlayer today
Henry Wong is a senior culture writer at Esquire, working across digital and print. He covers film, television, books, and art for the magazine, and also writes profiles.
