The Cutprice Guignol

Small Prophets isn’t a fantasy show. It’s a show about grief, loss, and moving forward – which also happens to feature magical spirits who live in jars and tell the future, but don’t let that part distract you, eh?

When it came to following up the generational brilliance of Detectorists, Mackenzie Crook had a tough job on his hands. Not just in matching the quality of his first major venture into writing and directing, but in capturing the same sense of humanity and heart that made it such a hit. But, a few years later, we finally have the first season of his next effort, Small Prophets. And, quite frankly, it’s perfect.

Detectorists always had an edge of magical realism to its world – that sense of reaching through history, stories passed down via objects that had long-since been buried in the earth – but it was one more intended for the viewing audiences than for the characters at its heart. Small Prophets, though, takes those fantasy elements and puts them front and centre in this story, as loner DIY shop assistant Michael (Pearce Quigley) follows instructions from his father (Michael Palin) to create homunculi, divinating spirits who might finally be able to give him the answers that he has longed for with regards to the vanishing of his partner, Clea, seven years before.

Which is a risky move, for a creator as grounded as Crook is. His stories, so far, have been distinctly human, often more caught up with the minutiae of life than some grandly fantastical world-changing fantasy creatures, and it would have been all too easy to let the homunculi upend that style of storytelling. But, despite the mysticism of the central premise, the focus remains very much on the people – with the homunculi serving as a conduit for us to uncover the depths of the characters around whom this story revolves.

Because Small Prophets is, at its heart, quite a simple story about looking to the future after so long stuck in the past. Michael’s house and life is still utterly consumed by Clea – the hallway stacked high with the books she intended to sell one day, his garden overgrown where he’s left it untouched since she left, and, in perhaps the series’ most striking image, his living room still dedicated to a perfect recreation of a picture of Clea’s childhood Christmas, replete with Action Man helicopter 1979. His bicycle is still the tandem he and Clea shared; his dreams are haunted by images of their bird-watching expeditions together. In the seven years since her sudden vanishing and apparent suicide, she has remained a central part of his life and his world, her presence swelling to push out nearly everything else around it. She’s such a huge presence in the show that Michael hardly even needs to talk about the kind of person she was; for him, she never left, at least as far as her importance to him goes. With his elderly father’s stuck so often in his own memories due to his deteriorating mind and a dead-end job leaving him uninspired, there is little left for him, at the start of the show, to look forward to.

And that’s where the homunculi come in. Not just as a matter of practical use, as a means of finding out what happened to Clea, but as a matter of connection with other people that Michael has long-denied himself. It’s a really superb performance from Quigley here, who starts off the series spiky and bristly and even difficult, only to carefully unravel the character to reveal the warmth and passion that lays within him – the most prominent relationship he has in the show is with Kacey (Lauren Patel), another member of the DIY shop staff who bonds with Michael and discovers his homunculus-related intentions.

I’m not sure why this particular relationship (a young person becoming fast friends with someone in their middle age that they would never have encountered if not for ending up on the same shop floor) is one that I’ve known so many people, myself included, to have. But it’s the perfect choice to centre the show around, as Kacey finds herself consumed with fear about her future and her inability to achieve what she wants, dragging Michael out of the prison of his past. The homunculi, by their nature, practically demand looking forward instead of back, and it’s through their slow growth that Michael begins to settle into the present day once more. And, in that present day, Michael is still effecting people, even where he hasn’t been aware of it – whether it’s Brigham (Ed Kear) delighted by his quirky transport choices or his neighbour Bev (Sophie Willan, also, watchAlma’s Not Normal) given vigour by his refusal to abide by the self-imposed rules enforced by her picket fence husband, he’s still very much present in the world, as much as he has tried to retreat from it and live in the past he longs for so much. The show ends with the house gutted, the long-untouched presents opened, Clea’s key on the hook gone – the painful wrench of memory upended, as it had long needed to be.

And yes, there are little creatures in glass jars who tell the future (and I actually rather like the way they’re executed here – a bit janky and off-looking, like something from an early-gen console), and there are plenty of people in the present day who seem pretty irritated with Michael regardless of where he is in his grieving process (especially the brilliant Crook himself, who reminds us as Michael’s boss Gordon that he made his name playing one of TV’s all-time great jobsworths), but the show whole-heartedly embraces the importance of humanity, connection, and looking forward instead of back. It’s a small, beautiful endeavour, and one that serves a perfect follow-up to Detectorists – and a brilliant addition to Crook’s growing TV oeuvre, too. I would love to hear what you made of it, so please let me know in the comments (though preferably without burying yourself in a pile of dung first, if possible).

If you’d like to support my blog, please consider supporting me by buying my books or dropping me a tip via my Support page.

(header image via Radio Times)