Think of the biggest mistake you ever made. Now imagine that, no matter how remorseful you may have been, no matter how apologetic you were to those that suffered as a result, no matter how much you had already suffered yourself, you wake up every morning with the soul-crushing reality that the consequences of that mistake will define your day, and the next, and the next, and so on…
Step away… Now, you are not the one who made the mistake, just an observer of those who have: a small group of people whose lives are defined by their single mistake, forced to live and work with others who have experienced a similar fate. And as you watch, you become intrigued with the variety of ways that the human condition can deal with such a distressing bit of misfortune. And, as your interest grows, you find yourself entranced, sometimes confused, but always eager to understand what the hell is happening and how it will turn out. Keeping you going through this voyeuristic adventure is the hope, for those suffering unfairly as you look on, that escape is possible, that somehow, if they work at it, their mistakes might someday, some faraway day, be forgiven. And, finally, as you gaze day after day, you find yourself regularly laughing out loud at the absurdity of it all, laughing at their wretched hopefulness always wrapped in a fog of deception, laughing again and again…
If you would like to eavesdrop on this collection of misfits, pick up Slow Horses (2010) by Mick Herron. Set in modern London, Slow Horses is the first in a series of more than a dozen novels featuring a motley crew of banished British intelligence agents (MI5); each of whom has apparently made a colossal mistake. Cast out of Regent’s Park, the sleek headquarters of Britain’s espionage infrastructure, they have ended up in Slough (as in cow) House and are thus referred to mockingly as the slow horses. (I imagine many of you are already familiar with Slow Horses streaming on Apple TV so I’ll speak of the books first—because it’s always “book then movie,” right?)
Slough House is a filthy rundown office space in a seedy neighborhood where the slow horses are given ridiculous tasks to keep them busy and, most importantly, out of trouble. The half-dozen or so slow horses are overseen by a seemingly burned out spy named Jackson Lamb. Early descriptions of Lamb evoke an olfactory response; smoky liquor-saturated breath, wafting flatulence, coughing fits, old shoes and holes in the socks he rarely changes, all within a musty and mildewed building reeking of the detritus of a hundred years of impoverished human habitation.
At first, it appears that these slow horses cannot be terminated from MI5 because they possess the type of unsavory information that can embarrass those in power; no spy service, meaning its individual power brokers in this case, wants its former employees desperate enough to monetize state secrets. What we discover early on, though, is that the slow horses also serve as convenient scapegoats when things go south at Regent’s Park, which they often do because Second Desk Diana Taverner has other interests than those stated in MI5’s Mission Statement. Taverner is a ruthless player who peddles in secrets, blackmail, revenge and a thirst for more power. She also has at her disposal The Dogs; MI5’s enforcement operators who dish out violence without conscience (there’s a great deal of artfully delivered British style profanity in this one too).
When books are adapted for the screen, as I’ve mentioned, I typically encourage the reading part before the viewing part with the notion that a movie must make shortcuts in order to appeal to an audience with shorter attention spans than those who call themselves readers. In the case of the Slough House series, however, I discovered that Apple TV’s adaption is, if Season One’s six episodes are any measure, TV viewing that is true to Herron’s beautiful books.*
Making this possible is that each season is based upon a single Mick Herron novel, allowing something like five hours to tell the tale. I also noticed that each season, of which there are now six, is managed by a single director.
With such close attention to many of the details found in the TV show, I was curious as to Mick Herron’s role. So, I was not surprised that a quick Google check indicated that the author is “actively involved in the… adaptations of his books.” It also revealed what I noticed in Season One; the characters coming alive for me in the books were vividly and accurately portrayed in the TV show. This reflects Herron’s role in its production; while he didn’t demand “strict adherence to the book’s plot…” he was more concerned with “prioritizing the portrayal of his characters.” And it is most certainly the development of these quirky characters that drives the narrative.**
River Cartwright has been sentenced to Slough House for a mistake actually made by an unscrupulous rising star at Regent’s Park. We learn early that River’s grandfather is David Cartwright, an old spy who worked in the closing Cold War days of the 1980s with Jackson Lamb and Diana Taverner. This threesome provides much of the suspense that drives a solid back story; one that illustrates how the spy game changed after the Berlin Wall came down in 1989.
Other characters you’ll get to know are Catherine Standish, a seemingly polite older woman who serves as Lamb’s assistant, tolerating his grotesque existence with silver-tongued wit. She also has a history with the older generation of spooks and, as it turns out, can play the spy game with the best of them. Shirley Dander is an inexplicably competent spy who has been assigned to Slough House without explanation. Roddy Ho—the self-monikered Rodster—is an egotistical misanthrope whom everyone despises, until they need his wickedly intrusive technology skills. Peter Judd is a corrupt and ruthless right-wing Conservative politician who has dirt on Taverner, and he reminds us of the sad trajectory of our own world. There are others, too.
These are such great characters and, as we come to embrace them and their flaws, many different emotional chords are struck, particularly as we ponder our own mistakes and the consequences. Because we have all made mistakes and can only hope that we do not suffer as the slow horses do, hopeful that we live in a kinder and gentler world inclined more toward forgiveness than punishment; a world in which the foibles of humanity are understood by all, a world that allows us to say sorry and move on.
Of course, this is not the world we live in, and, more relevant to the Mick Herron experience, is that even as we see the slow horses suffering for their blunders, some even suffering for the blunders and deceptions of others, it emerges that the slow horse dream of getting back in the game is not all it’s cracked up to be, while those who remain at Regent’s Park have their own demons that haunt. We then come to realize, for those with the patience to attend, that maybe, just maybe, the seemingly dismal fate of this lackluster crew of slow horses is not so bad after all.
*I signed up for Apple TV with a seven-day free trial to watch this show specifically. By all accounts, it seems very easy to cancel after the free trial is over. Although the wonderful folks at Apple TV have offered up some pretty intriguing teasers for other shows so I’ll probably hang on to this one, for a while, anyway.
**The many plot lines and back stories can get a little confusing so I suggest checking Wikipedia’s individual episode summaries after watching each.
Another great review.