Review by C.J. Bunce
Something got lost halfway through the new Peacock series Ponies. Ponies–we’re told it means “persons of no interest” as opposed to the better-known phrase “persons of interest”–stars Emilia Clarke and Haley Lu Richardson as secretary wives of CIA operatives in Russia in 1977 whose husbands are killed during a mission. Upon returning to the U.S. they decide they want to return to Moscow to learn why their husbands died. The CIA lets them be spies. At most that sounds like a promising comedy, only it isn’t. It’s marketed as an espionage thriller, a period drama, a buddy show, and spy-fi. Creators Susanna Fogel and David Iserson try it all on for size but a switch-up in writers and direction in episodes 6 and 7 and a set-up for a second season instead of a satisfying finale makes for some disappointment all-around.
It’s 1977, which means women had spent the decade fighting for equal rights. So the idea of two women being spies isn’t too much of a stretch. In fact last year’s series Duster showed how it’s done with Rachel Hilson’s Agent Nina as a Quantico-trained agent giving us a peek at all sides of her struggle to be recognized for her skills in a man’s world. The instant misfire with Ponies is that virtually no training is given to the two secretaries. The 1970s series Charlie’s Angels featured three trained police women not allowed to take on challenging work, so they are tapped for their skills in the private sector. The story worked and holds up today because they did the work. The writers’ failure to give the two leads of Ponies training only sets them up for failure.
Clarke plays Beatrice “Bea” Grant, a privileged woman whose background allowed her to be college educated and fluent in the Russian language, married to the perfect white guy. Loyal and devoted to the memory of her husband, she’s also quick to have sex with the show’s Russian spy in the same episode she learns of her husband’s infidelity “in the line of duty.” Clarke over-relies on scrunching her eyebrows and emotional outbursts. Richardson plays Twila Hasbeck, a bit of a ringer for Natasha Lyonne whose direction to rely on oafish blank comedy stares is a distraction. The actor relies on these seemingly for laughs, even when her actions result in peoples’ deaths. Twila is not educated and refuses to pull herself up at every turn. She’s married to a black man who is also the mole who supposedly got both husbands killed (some of the contrasts are just plain cringey). She randomly has a lesbian sex scene halfway through the season for no reason other than apparently boredom. The writers clearly had a better grasp on what they wanted to do with Bea.
Is this a comedy? As a new twist on “The Odd Couple” the leads’ differing styles and personalities could work as a comedy, and the set-up seems good for that in the first episode. But the tenor of the show jumps back and forth between dire and slapstick. The very idea of the government using secretaries as spies in 1970s U.S. is preposterous, which would tell you the story should go for laughs. They probably weren’t aiming to be the next Rizzoli & Isles, Cagney & Lacey, or Burnett & McKenna from L.A.’s Finest or Collins & Redcliffe from Deadloch. But the previews showed the duo of Clarke & Richardson might have some potential. There’s certainly not enough buddy cop/crime shows with women in the leads. But the two don’t get enough scenes alone together to show if they have any chemistry for an ongoing series. They don’t seem to like each other.
As spy-fi? This isn’t Three Days of the Condor. At one point their handlers allow Bea to bring her Holocaust survivor Russian-emigrant grandmother to fill in when Twila accidentally pushes a near-retirement Soviet woman operative off a bridge to her death. At every step of the show you can say “this would never happen.”
As a crime show? On the more serious front, their spy boss, Dane Walter (played by Adrian Lester) is a closeted gay man seeking some type of medical treatment for his homosexuality in Germany. Hungarian actor Mácsay Pál plays Emile, a sort-of cleaner employed by the CIA who seems to be following everyone around cleaning up loose ends–ie, killing people–including the doctor who helps Dane. Why? We never know. Emile also seems to be behind the U.S. effort to find out who’s been videotaping men having sex with Russian prostitutes for blackmail purposes. What he overlooked was that the prostitutes then soon end up dead. The prostitute murderer is secret for the players but not the audience.
Is it a thriller? The show only has one prime villain and that’s Artjom Gilz’s both handsome and slimy Russian mobster Andrei Vasiliev. Perhaps it’s the choice of dramatic music, but the scenes between Bea and Andrei aren’t half as suspenseful as they could have been. The writers putting heroine Bea in the situation of having sex with the killer is just cringey (although it’s not as jarring as Twila stopping to have sex with a gal she meets on the street with no advance set-up for the audience). The viewer knows Andrei is a creep, yet the on-screen clash of the characters is saved for the season finale. Twila’s street friend Ivanna, played by Lili Walters, could have been a person of some interest in the story, she’s unfortunately under-utilized.
The series has an extensive supporting cast–way too many players for eight episodes of television. Twila’s handler Ray Symanski (Nicholas Podany) is the most promising, yet the writers have the experienced agent allow an unvetted Russian woman into his home to be his nanny–and of course she’s spying on him. The most layered, and probably most fun, character is his wife Cheryl, played by Vic Michaelis. She is the only character in the show who asks the questions the audience wants to ask: Why is her husband so stupid? Why is the CIA letting two secretaries have access to critical intelligence secrets? But the constant of the writing is to switch each character’s motivation for every new episode. Ultimately… surprise! Yep, she’s a spy, too.
Is it a romance? Petro Ninovskyi plays Sasha, Bea and Twila’s assigned Russian asset. His sister was one of the murdered prostitutes. The writers set up a sweet attraction between Bea and Sasha, but it feels forced–again, is Bea the loyal widow or ready to fall for every Russian male in her path? It’s that kind of character development that can make you think the creators really are going for the kind of 1970s fare that was the stuff of those sleazy grocery store checkout romance novels. But it doesn’t do that well either.
Is it a historical drama? Another subplot follows Bea’s grandmother, played by Harriet Walter, as she returns to Russia to try to catch up with a friend she hasn’t seen since the Holocaust. But this seems more part of the seeds for a story in a possible second season. Don’t expect a satisfying wrap-up to any plot threads–the season finale leaves everything up in the air. And one of those predictable bits you’d expect from the first episode arrives as a late-breaking season finale surprise… somebody killed wasn’t really killed all along. As a “period drama” the series doesn’t rate very strong. The directors can’t keep the weather of the seasons straight, the writers use too much modern dialogue, and the overall vibe is more 1980s or 2000s than authentic 1970s. They reach for real-life characters twice–George H.W. Bush and Elton John–not even casting actors who are that much of a match, pulling the viewer out of the show. But the sets and hundreds of costumes for eight episodes is where most of the thought was spent. The series looks good.
Each episode is named for a 1970s pop/rock song, and Ponies too often relies on pop songs to pull the viewer through scenes. This is probably the most egregious use of pop music as a “cheat” (a substitute for action or drama or energy) in a series in years. And the music is a host of usual suspects–the soundtrack more memorable than the show. But don’t confuse the Ponies soundtrack for the pop music play list.
It’s difficult to find a place where this series fits and gets the tropes right. If it’s not a comedy, then it should have some thrills and suspense, but it fails at that in comparison to something like Killing Eve. It may be more like Rizzoli & Isles than anything else simply because it’s one of those “easy to watch” shows. Because the series hasn’t been renewed for a second season, and no plot threads are tied up, at a minimum you’ll want to wait this one out until a second season is confirmed. Otherwise it’s a “much ado about nothing” unresolved cliffhanger.
If you want great spy-fi for the small screen, try The IPCRESS File (reviewed here), Black Doves (reviewed here), or Counterpart (reviewed here). They are much better examples of the best of the genre. All eight episodes of Ponies are now streaming on Peacock.
