UK Edition
Review
Taboo, episode 8, review: once you surrendered to the lunacy, Tom Hardy's finale was an absolute riot
Warning: Contains spoilers for the season one finale of Taboo
Yes, five stars. This was a nigh-on perfect finale to a very flawed series – it resolved none of the longstanding issues over misogyny, Tom Hardy’s breathtaking solipsism and the 19th century’s own Mumblegate, but by now I’d given up expecting it to.
And the absurdity of much of what happened was more than countered by the excitement it generated: what this did have was meaty acting, breathless tension, gripping action and some very satisfying storytelling. Frankly, after almost 8 hours, it was the least we deserved.
The Taboo finale began with unexpected restraint: the showdown between Delaney and Stuart Strange was relatively cordial, as Strange refused to incriminate himself but, equally tellingly, refused to deny the many charges Delaney laid at his feet.
Delaney – one of Strange’s “boys who had the shadow of death on them”, then secured a ship for his silence, but not before further ominous references to past misdeeds: “I witnessed and partipicated in darkness that you cannot conceive.” Even Strange seemed a bit put out that Delaney wasn’t prepared to have a pop at him.
Delaney then poisoned himself, presumably to buy a little time and safe in the knowledge that his captors still needed him alive. His life duly saved, Delaney than informed Coop, just about at his wits’ end, that treason charges would be dropped, witnesses would vanish and testimonies would burn, because “the ravens told me”.
He probably genuinely thinks they did, the mad old coot. And then, just like that, James Delaney walked free. Quite why the Crown couldn’t have figured out a way to hold him longer, even on trumped up charges, eludes me.
Events in Taboo generally have to be taken with a few barrels of salt but if you weren’t suspending your disbelief by this point then you really shouldn’t have still been watching. Accordingly, at this point, I finally threw my hands up in the air and surrendered to the lunacy of the enterprise. And thank goodness I did, because what followed was an absolute riot.
Or it was, once Zilpha had done the decent thing and killed herself (perhaps this was by the request of Oona Chaplin – frankly, you couldn’t blame her).
In the meantime, young Robert continued to do his father’s bidding (maybe it was easy access to those diamonds that kept him loyal), informing all the key players of Delaney’s grand plan. Helga and co were “kidnapped” by the Company, Lorna met with spymistress Carlsbad to allow her to cast her eye over the gunpowder and mentions Delaney’s intention to sort out the “leaky ship”.
By which, it transpired, she meant Dumbarton, outed as a Company spy and the only man with steadier nerves than Delaney. His “who blinks first” approach eventually got him disembowelled, when he informed Delaney that a letter of safe passage would only be forthcoming in exchange for the Company obtaining rights to Nootka. Michael Kelly, so good as Stamper in House of Cards, has been one of the unsung heroes of Taboo, an appealingly shifty enigma whose loyalties you could never be sure of until his final moments.
With Brace safely banished to the Delaney homestead, where he provided George Chichester with all the legal ammunition he needed, the league of the damned took its final stand at the docks.
Heavily outnumbered and outgunned against the king’s men, carnage was inevitable: Helga died, other nameless subordinates fell, Lorna was shot and Cholmondeley blown up (although both may live to fight another day). The royal regiments were decimated. And through it all strode Delaney, impervious to fear, pain, humility and, frankly, the vast majority of recognisable human emotions and feelings. It was thrillingly mounted and utterly involving.
The survivors made it to the ship, just. For a time, it looked like all the major figures would remain in play with just their lieutenants sacrificed. Then Strange went up in smoke at the end – Winter’s revenge, perhaps? Jonathan Pryce and his angry stick will be missed.
Fingers crossed Cholmondeley survives his potential fatal injuries – as long as his mouth and manhood are in working order, I think we can assume he’ll continue uncowed. First stop, however, will be the Azores and “a man called Colonnade”, to whom they're sailing under American colours. Might they then set up camp in a (perhaps even the?) new world? As dankly evocative as this Regency London was, I shan’t be sorry to see a little sunlight pierce these stories.
If the creators are courageous, they’ll cut the second series down to six episodes and give Jessie Buckley her head, allowing Lorna to truly establish herself as Delaney’s equal. At the very least, after a triumphant home stretch, the prospect of another go-round is a truly enticing one – and I wouldn’t have said that a few weeks ago.