In Netflix's new spy series Black Doves, Keira Knightley's character Helen Webb seems to be the perfect wife and partner for an up-and-coming official in the British government.
Beautiful and intelligent, she's a warm mother to two cute kids, capable of hosting a holiday party for her husband's staff in one moment and coercing the children to stop playing underneath a table in the next.
But Mrs. Webb is also a spy for a mysterious intelligence organization, feeding them information about her husband's work all while managing the family's affairs – and having an affair with another man. And when that affair is discovered by a "handler" from the organization – played with a matronly ruthlessness by Sarah Lancashire – she mostly has one question for Mrs. Webb:
Why was she sleeping with this man?
Mrs. Webb's answer was a surprise, coming from an experienced spy. "I wasn't working an angle," she says through tears. "It was real. It wasn't a job. It was…love."
That's right. After 10 years of marriage and two kids, Mrs. Webb fell in love with someone else while trying to decide if she still cares for her husband.
It's a deliciously dramatic situation far different than the stories of detached, mostly loner spies like James Bond and Mission Impossible's Ethan Hunt.
Spies with families fill fall TV
Sure, there have been spy characters with families in films and TV before, from Harrison Ford's turn as Jack Ryan in 1992's Patriot Games to FX's The Americans, which concluded in 2018.
But this fall has seen a veritable flood of stories about spies with spouses and children, trying to hold onto their families while balancing the demands of brutal, often dehumanizing jobs.
There's Michael Fassbender's CIA case officer Martian — I know, that name seems a little odd — in Showtime's new series The Agency. He's trying to reconnect with a teen daughter named Poppy (India Fowler) who wants to know why he was gone so much during his last assignment.
She asks if he got information from people by making friends with them.
"Friends are people you like," Martian replies, wryly. "[These are more like] acquaintances."
Poppy's reply: "So you left us for six years to make…acquaintances?"
Ouch. Even bad guys have these issues. Like Eddie Redmayne's character, an expert assassin in Peacock's new series The Day of The Jackal. He's married to a woman named Nuria (Úrsula Corberó) who suspects he's having an affair because he's so secretive. She has no idea her charming husband, who she knows as Charles, is actually a world-famous hitman.
By the time she's discovered the secret room he built in their home for his disguises, multiple passports and assorted weapons, you're left wondering why she doesn't just run for the hills.
Spies with families are popping up in lots of series: Paramount+'s Lioness. Apple TV+'s Slow Horses. And the trend makes sense; for TV series looking to stretch compelling ideas across eight or ten episodes, the plotlines generated by family conflict can add a wealth of new storylines.
Each of these shows deftly uses spouses, children and loved ones to present a kind of spy thriller that feels different, with characters drawn so viewers can perhaps see a bit of themselves inside.
Everyday problems writ large
Their struggles can sometimes feel like ordinary challenges blown up into world-shaking espionage tales: spouses and children who don't understand their demanding jobs, devotion to a vocation that damages them and their relationships, a growing sense of shame as their work keeps them from being present for the family.
These characters, even the villains, aren't necessarily cold blooded killers. Nothing humanizes a character like seeing them care for someone they love. Indeed, that's often the difference between anti-heroes and villains in such stories – the villains don't really love anybody but themselves, while anti-heroes are driven by their connections to other people.
Even as you watch Redmayne's The Jackal kill a gun maker to keep him from talking to the authorities, part of you is rooting for him to get back to Nuria and their son Carlito.
Particularly in the case of Black Doves, the romantic and family relationships add a significant layer to almost every major character's arc – including Ben Whishaw, who plays a hitman acting as muscle for Knightley's character Mrs. Webb. He also struggles with feelings about the family he could have shared with his own ex-boyfriend, who had a child.
Sure, there are times when these setups seem preposterous or overwrought. But spies with families are also passionate and oh-so-human. Which, in the end, makes for the very best kind of spy story.
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