Review: Killing Eve

For a long time, TV and film fanatics have been suckers for psychopathic serial-killing antiheroes. We bow down before John Wick, obsess over Dexter and hail the impossibly brutal and deliciously violent escapades of Vin DieselÔÇÖs Riddick.

Well, move over men, because youÔÇÖve met your match. Meet Oxana Vorontsova (alias Villanelle). The sexiest, coolest, and most stylish killer to grace our screens in years. Rather than fall in step with the tired narrative of a scorned woman set on revenge after being wronged by a man (see: Kill Bill), Oxana kills ruthlessly, gratuitously and the only people she obsesses over are the women that get tangled up in her schemes.

With wide, creative shots of beautiful European cities, rich and developed female characters and literal cut-throat comedy lacing poisonous intrigue, Killing Eve is entrancing and addictive. An almost perfect blend of black humour and thrills, this series, based on a Luke JenningsÔÇÖ novel Codename Villanelle and adapted by the fantastic Phoebe Waller-Bridge of Fleabag, is a healthy dose of binge-worthy escapism.

While the final episode ends on a dull note, that risks ÔÇÿjumping the sharkÔÇÖ with its foray into slapstick stabbing, the second series has already been commissioned and IÔÇÖm blotting out a day in my diary to consume the lot in one go. You know youÔÇÖve watched a piece of art when you find yourself dreaming about psychopathic Russian ladies and awake with a smile on your face.

By Sophia Vahdati