Anyone didn’t like this, please raise your hands!
Killing Eve is not just a spy thriller. It is obsession wearing excellent clothes.
From the beginning, the pull between Eve and Villanelle is the whole electricity of the series. Eve is supposed to hunt her. Villanelle is supposed to run. Instead, they begin circling each other with a fascination that becomes more dangerous than the murders themselves.
And Villanelle — what a creation. Stylish, childish, terrifying, funny, cruel, bored, needy, brilliant. She is not written like the usual assassin who simply arrives, kills and disappears. She performs. She dresses for the moment. She turns violence into theatre and identity into costume.
That is what made the series feel so fresh at the start. It had wit. It had colour. It had locations. It had women being strange, brilliant, destructive and completely outside the neat little boxes television often gives them.
Eve is just as interesting because she is not innocent in the way she first appears. Her obsession wakes something in her. She wants to understand Villanelle, but she also wants to be near the danger. That is the uncomfortable truth of the show: attraction and horror are sometimes sitting at the same table.
Killing Eve is messy, stylish, funny and violent. At its best, it feels like a dangerous woman looked at the rules of spy drama and laughed.
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