Netflix ‘Black Doves’ Season 2 Review - Enjoyable Enough to Watch, Forgettable Enough to Forget

First things first, I really enjoyed watching the second season of Black Doves, and I say this as someone who found the first season pretty mediocre. This, however, doesn't mean that Season 2 isn't mediocre either. I don't think the show knows how to lend real, substantial weight to its story, and that's largely a common Netflix problem. By that, I mean the prioritization of just enough character information, just enough conflict points, and just enough emotional drama to keep the whole engine chugging for a few undemanding hours. Still, I think Season 2 manages to be far more entertaining than its other forgettable counterparts, simply because it packs in a bunch of genuinely enjoyable moments and some very fine performances.

For all its talk of interpersonal relationships and secret operations, the second season really shines when it's simply listening to its characters converse about...stuff, say, on their way somewhere or in the middle of a rescue operation. For instance, when Helen (Keira Knightley), Sam (Ben Whishaw), Eleanor (Gabrielle Creevy), and Williams (Ella Lily Hyland) are in the car together, the conversation begins with Williams' "kill list" and moves to favorite musicians and podcasts before returning to where it started. When Williams and Eleanor are trapped in a room amid constant gunfire, an intoxicated Williams brings up Shrek to discuss Eleanor's dating choices. These chats have a wonderful, informal rhythm. They progress organically, with the humor emerging effortlessly from the conversations. If you're not exactly laughing, you're definitely smiling throughout. The jokes put you in a good mood, and you especially grow fond of Williams and Eleanor. These two are consistently amusing, even when they're talking about matters of the heart.

And the second season does contain plenty of conversations about matters of the heart. Did Season 1, too, come preassembled with a sentimental heart? I confess, I have little more than vague memories of that encounter. The two-year gap has cast an Obliviate spell on my mind, and, as I mentioned earlier, I found it too generic to have stayed in my memory. In theory, what Season 2 does with its characters is fascinating enough. Sam is tasked with killing a concierge at a hotel, whom he loves. A man who killed a priest in the past ends up befriending someone close to that priest in the present. A woman betrays her partner and abandons her daughter, who eventually returns to destroy her and her organization. And, of course, who can forget Helen's efforts to maintain her friendly housewife facade in front of her husband, Wallace (Andrew Buchan), who, in this season, becomes prime minister? In one particularly impressive scene, Helen summons all her confidence to deliver a false confession to her husband, telling him that she's happy with their marriage and that she has never had an affair with anyone else. In another, an MI5 agent delivers news of someone's death to Helen, and you can see her struggling to conceal her shock and tears behind a smile that says, "Why should I care?" I swear I saw Helen's facial muscles fighting with each other, trying to settle on one specific outward emotion.

And yet, the overall result of these emotional exertions is little more than a perfunctory round of applause and a thumbs-up. You admire what the series is attempting to do; you appreciate its efforts to create tension between friends by way of contract-killing assignments (Eleanor and Williams are offered a lot of money to kill Sam). Nevertheless, all that effort yields little more than dry eyes and a lack of serious concern. At one point, Helen's children are placed in a dangerous situation, but there's no nail-biting tension. Sam's overwhelming grief, too, provides Whishaw with the opportunity to wear a sad, puppy-dog expression. That's what you find yourself responding to more—his physical cuteness—than to the turmoil he's supposedly experiencing. The problem is that the concierge simply enters and exits Sam's life. The two aren't given enough scenes in which they can genuinely engage with each other, discover what they have in common, or discuss their individual objectives and plans. There's little to this relationship beyond sex (we always cut to shots of them lying exhausted afterwards). And so, when the concierge is dispatched, you grasp what has happened on a narrative level, but you don't feel its emotional weight. Sam might as well have accidentally killed a man out walking his dog.

Sure, another way to understand Sam's overwhelming grief is to consider it an "accumulation" of sorts. Sam is affected by the priest's death and asks Reed (Sarah Lancashire) why he needed to be dispatched, but he doesn't get an answer. Even so, that sense of guilt and regret remains largely confined to his gloomy expressions and gestures. The series doesn't meaningfully explore how these feelings might manifest in his interactions with the man who was close to the priest and whom Sam befriends. While recounting his friend's death, saying that he was shot in his own church, the man wonders, "What kind of hell waits for someone who would do that?" Writer-creator Joe Barton could have used this line to open a door into Sam's insecurities and regret, giving them a forceful, deeply felt verbal outlet. Sam, though, steers the conversation towards speculation ("Why would someone have wanted him dead?"), and the scene ends a few seconds later. Consider another instance in which Sam is sent to kill an old, retired agent, who tells him that the same fate awaits him in the future. Such a confrontation could have further deepened Sam's prevailing sense of sorrow while confronting him with the brevity of human life. What's more, this is precisely why he advises Williams to seize the moment, stop being a coward, and confess her feelings to Eleanor. But what does Sam himself regret when confronted with this realization? If he wonders whether he could have taken up some other profession, what might that have been? Are there places he suddenly wishes to visit, or experiences he wants to have before it's too late?

The one thing you're sure of is that he would surely love to marry and settle down with a boy. He seems consumed by the familiar regrets of never having had a stable relationship and the accompanying "what am I doing with my life and why?" anguish. Of course, these are valid concerns. I won't discredit them. However, in terms of what they contribute to the story, they leave behind the bland impression of a job simply getting done. Ditto for Helen's hectic experience of motherhood, her relationship with her stepsister, and the relationship between another woman and her husband and daughter. The second season offers just enough detail to keep its nearly six-hour story moving, making it easy to follow and binge. This kind of storytelling, all too ubiquitous in streaming shows and Netflix Originals, gives rise to templates and dramatic shortcuts. Something like Black Doves, in such a climate, makes a little extra effort through competent plotting and good performances, which is perhaps why shows of this kind also receive more acclaim than they deserve. But as someone who finds himself logging into Netflix almost every day, I do crave more substance, more depth from these productions. One could, then, accuse me of judging Season 2 (or even the first one) unfairly by holding it to expectations it never intended to meet. And I don't think I can argue with that. Still, I think I enjoyed it more than I had hoped I would, and that low bar is comfortably cleared. I'm not sure how long this season will stay with me, but for now, I'm smiling and quite content.

Final Score - [5.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times