Sweetpea review – Ella Purnell’s deathly dull serial killer show reeks of cowardly decision-making
I was thrilled to learn that CJ Skuse’s *Sweetpea*, which is the first installment in a five-book series, is being turned into a TV show. While the entire series is fantastic, the first book truly stands out. It follows Rhiannon, a serial killer who targets (mostly) bad (mostly) men, and the story grabs your attention right from the start and never lets go. It’s darkly funny and offers sharp social critiques, just like Rhiannon's lethal skills with a knife, all delivered with a clever sense of humor. Rhiannon is a rare find: an unrepentant female lead brought to life with equal boldness by a female writer.
Her background is intriguing, leaving you questioning whether her psychopathic tendencies stem from genetics or upbringing—though one thing is clear: she is a psychopath, with a BuzzFeed quiz rating her at 82%. Rhiannon's character shines through every word, as the storyline unfolds with constant surprises and escalating tension, all while the number of victims rises. There's not a single moment or phrase that feels unnecessary. I highly recommend these works; they’ll resonate deeply, especially if you’re a woman harboring unexpressed anger.
Better to read the books first before watching Sky’s adaptation, which loses all the elements that made the originals enjoyable. The six-episode series drags on, lacking any real punch, humor, or excitement. The character Sweetpea, portrayed by Ella Purnell of Fallout and Yellowjackets fame, ends up in a dull role that seems far removed from what the book offered. In the show, her drive for revenge against a bullying classmate turns her into a childish figure, rather than the fierce warrior depicted in Skuse's work. Unlike the book's Sweetpea, who surrounds herself with friends (or as she calls them, “People I can’t shake off”) to blend in while she pursues vigilante justice, the TV version finds herself in her first murder situation purely by chance, rather than actively pursuing it. Instead of being a captivating psychopath, she comes across as incredibly tiresome.
Rather than having murders, we’re treated to petty squabbles and a dull love triangle that only sparks a hint of excitement right at the end. Instead of a witty and strong narrator, we get a script that lacks humor, energy, or any real substance. Instead of a villain reveling in her deadly talents, we see a victim who struggles and whines her way to a very gradual and incomplete sense of relief.
The series is filled with timid choices at every step. The book explores themes of women's anger and men's aggression, yet it appears that the creators preferred to avoid addressing this difficult truth. It also delves into the strength and struggles of children, the influence of parents, and the debate over whether we are shaped by our nature or our experiences. Additionally, it raises questions about redemption and whether having a small amount of "normalcy" means one can or should be concerned about it.
Sky's Sweetpea revolves around a woman who feels overlooked and wishes to feel more confident. Her transformation occurs through a series of dramatic events, including committing murder and kidnapping, yet the story lacks authenticity. This is largely due to the effort to ensure the main character remains likable and—I'm sure this term was used excessively in brainstorming sessions—relatable. As a result, viewers may find themselves cheering for the villainous Julia (Nicôle Lecky) instead, as she is simply more interesting.
In a landscape filled with excessive voiceovers, it's especially disappointing to discover that the one show that truly needed one—Skuse’s series—fails to provide it. The series heavily relies on Sweetpea’s voice and the direct insight we gain into her distinct thoughts. The absence of this narrative element, along with the omission of key aspects of Sweetpea's character from the adaptation, suggests a reluctance to tackle the more challenging themes of the book. This choice seems driven by fear rather than creativity.
If you haven't picked up the books and are unaware of what you're missing, you might still find the adaptation lacking and unpersuasive – just adequate at best. The plot feels sparse, the characters' motivations are even weaker, and the stakes are minimal. You don't need to have experienced Sweetpea in her original, vibrant portrayal to realize that these drips are simply uninteresting. They make that clear on their own.
It's frustrating to see such a missed chance to showcase something new, humorous, and genuinely unique on screen. It could really upset Rhiannon. I can't help but wonder if Skuse shares that sentiment.
