Vicky Jones and Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s ex-lovers-on-the-lam tale drops us in a no man’s land of delicious suspense
The sheer Waller-Bridgeness of the reality we live in now means everything good in TV and film is either directly featuring or fine-tuned by Phoebe Waller-Bridge (Fleabag, Killing Eve, Star Wars, Bond somehow), or inspired by her work [please self-insert an endless list of credits that basically feature everything produced in the year 2020, I’m not going to use up word count on writing it out myself]. This is a good thing, because it means a generation of spikily interesting shows with complicated characters and blunt-force wanking scenes, and the next of those off the conveyor belt is HBO’s Run (Wednesday, 9pm, Sky Comedy).
Run has the PWB hallmark, in that she both plays a character and executive produces (the series itself was written by Fleabag collaborator Vicky Jones) and is a series where … Well, I’m actually reluctant to tell you what happens, because it unfurls in such a confusing, satisfying way, where every piece clicks together like a puzzle so that, for at least the first 20 minutes, and in my case deep into the first 70, you have no idea what’s going on. And that’s fantastic. It’s years since I’ve watched a TV show and, very truly, had no idea what was coming next. It feels as if you’re watching it after you’ve woken from a small coma, and you’re getting plot cues from obtuse tattoos you’ve given yourself all over your arms and legs.