Reviews
‘Sweetpea’ Offers a Familiar But Entertaining ‘Meek to Murder’ Plot [Review]
At the start of Sweetpea, the new Starz/Sky Atlantic series adaptation of CJ Skuse’s novel of the same name, Rhiannon Lewis (Ella Purnell) is having a bad life. In voice-over, she catalogues the people she’d like to kill in a list that ranges from the man spreader on the bus and the cashier at the store who is always on the phone, all the way up to her high school nemesis, Julia Blenkingsopp (Nicôle Lecky).
Rhiannon is a quintessential horror protagonist. She is shy and meek, working a dead end job as the receptionist at a newspaper where she is taken advantage of by work colleagues. She is introverted and overlooked, pining for a romance with a shitty guy who won’t acknowledge her in public. And she still lives at home with her father Tommy, who is in the hospital with a life-threatening illness that Rhiannon’s sister Seren (Alexandra Dowling) barely acknowledges when she calls from France.
The first episode, “Sorry For Your Loss” is an emotional pile-on that outlines all of Rhiannon’s grievances with the world and her life. When her father dies and Seren hires realtor Julia to sell the family home, something in Rhiannon snaps and she begins to violently assert control of her life…via murder.
The template for the series is familiar: the meek-to-murder narrative pipeline has been done several times over, so while Sweetpea does offer several subversions to the formula, several plot points are predictable. The fact that Rhiannon ends up in over her head, for example, or that bodies begin to pile up, or that there’s a romantic entanglement that threatens to expose everything, is hardly surprising.
Despite its familiarity, though, the series is compulsively watchable. This is, in large part, thanks to Purnell, who has become something of a genre mainstay between this, Fallout and Yellowjackets. The actor anchors the series, assuming not just the lead role, but also that of executive producer. She’s joined by an all-female creative team that includes series writer Ella Jones and showrunner Kirstie Swain, who also directs three episodes. Krissie Ducker also directs three episodes, followed by Selina Lim and Laura Jayne Tunbridge (one episode each).
The female focus is most evident in Rhiannon’s interior voice, which offers insight into her experience of moving through a world that devalues women (and, to a lesser extent, young people). The show’s title comes from the nickname that Rhiannon’s boss Norman (Jeremy Swift) uses in all of their interactions. His micro-aggressive belittling is matched by the disdain of head writer Jeff (Dustin Demri-Burns), who becomes increasingly competitive when Rhiannon starts getting scoops about the town’s burgeoning serial killer.
On the personal side, Rhiannon’s occasional hook-ups with tradie Craig (Jon Pointing) aren’t much better. It’s clear that he’s using her for casual sex, in addition to his plans to buy her father’s business.
Thankfully the series isn’t so reductive as to suggest that all men = bad. Rhiannon starts up a flirtatious relationship with new colleague AJ (Calam Lynch) despite the fact that he takes the junior reporter position she was angling for. And Sweetpea is very clear that Rhiannon’s main adversary is Julia, who bullied her so badly in high school that our protagonist literally pulled out all of her hair.
As the series progresses, Rhiannon’s relationship with AJ and particularly Julia becomes more complicated. Jones’ writing is savvy enough to recognize that it’s important for the audience to simultaneously empathize with Rhiannon, while also critiquing her impulsive, murderous reactions to minor infractions. Still, there’s an undeniable catharsis to be found when Rhiannon finally begins advocating for herself, speaking up instead of shrinking back, and telling off the men who would dismiss her.
It’s also clear, however, that she’s not fully in control of her actions, particularly in the back half of the series. This is when the net begins to close in around Rhiannon in the form of diligent DC Marina Farrar (Leah Harvey) who is positioned as her equal in several ways. Episode 4, “Everybody Loves Julia” actually opens with Marina’s own “List of people I’d like to kill” voice-over, a narrative device that aurally aligns her with Rhiannon in a way that Sweetpea would have benefitted from exploring in greater depth.
While the show very obviously suggests that the two women are alike (both express feelings of invisibility, being taken for granted, and feeling overlooked), the narrative never fully commits to the idea. This is, in part, because Rhiannon is the lead and Marina is a supporting character who is introduced nearly halfway through the series. Ultimately the suggestion that many women feel the same way as Rhiannon (and Marina) is an intriguing concept, but Sweetpea runs out of (run)time to explore it in greater detail before its sixth and final episode.
Intriguingly, the series works as both a limited event and the first season of an ongoing series. While the last two episodes build to a climax that offers enough resolution to be mostly satisfying, there are enough dangling plot threads – or things left unseen – that it’s easy to imagine Purnell and co. returning for a second run if Sweetpea catches on.
As far as performances go, Purnell is fantastic as Rhiannon. While it’s not entirely believable that AJ would be the only one to notice her natural beauty, the creative team makes the wise choice not to give Rhiannon a hair/make-up/clothing make-over after the murders begin and other characters notice her change in attitude (it’s strictly presented as an increase in confidence and assertiveness).
Purnell also has solid chemistry with Lynch, whose AJ is adorable but dangerously perceptive. Even more important are Rhiannon’s evolving interactions with Lecky’s Julia, who begins the series as her prime adversary and then slowly becomes something else. Julia is a great example of how women are forced to adopt specific roles and behaviours, which they internalize and wield like a weapon against other women. The toxicity of quote/unquote socially acceptable female traits is one of the series’ most intriguing, albeit surface-level, considerations.
While it would have been nice for Sweetpea to interrogate these ideas more deeply, the series ultimately opts to prioritize Rhiannon’s often humorous, occasionally macabre, and always entertaining revenge plot. This makes for an enjoyable watch, though Sweetpea would be a stronger and more memorable series if it had a bit more bite.
Sweetpea airs weekly on Fridays on Starz starting October 11.
Reviews
‘Hungry’ Review – Finally, a Film Brave Enough to Call Out Hippos for the Monsters They Truly Are
When it comes to the animal attack subgenre of horror, there’s a hierarchy of sorts with the wildlife in question. Killer shark movies are easily the most ubiquitous, while alligators/crocodiles, dogs, bears, and snakes probably lead the rest of the pack.
It’s often worth paying attention, though, when a filmmaker targets a more atypical animal threat, including the likes of Jonathan King’s Black Sheep or Juan Piquer Simón’s Slugs. A new contender rumbles its way onto the screen this month, and while we all grew up thinking hippos are rotund cuties, the truth is far more frightening – this hippo is Hungry.
Sistine (Madison Davenport) and her best friend, Hannah (Olivia Bernstone), are enjoying a vacation in New Orleans, hoping to drown out their troubles back home. They sign up for an early morning bayou tour known for its alligator sightings and are joined by four other tourists and the boat’s skipper, Rodrigo (Michel Curiel). An uneventful trip sees Rodrigo take the group off the beaten path, but when an animal in the water capsizes their boat, the group finds themselves trapped in the swamp by something unexpected and deadly.
It’s a hippo. There’s a hippo in the bayou, and it’s not happy about all these pesky people.
From Joy Houck’s Creature from Black Lake to Walter Hill’s Southern Comfort to Adam Green’s Hatchet, the movies have warned us time and again not to go into the swampy bayous of Louisiana. Those cautionary tales are appreciated, though, as bigfoot, inbred hicks, and undead serial killers are a very real threat. But hippos? In the bayou? Well, that just seems silly.
And yet, Hungry plays its blubbery, big-toothed threat with deadly seriousness, and it’s all the better for it. “But Rob,” I can already hear some of you saying, “just yesterday you reviewed the new shark attack film, Chum, and said it suffered from taking itself too seriously. What gives?” For one thing, you’re misquoting me, but more importantly, the reference there was more of an observation on the animal attack subgenre successes as a whole. The “fun” ones tend to succeed more often than their more serious counterparts, but a dramatic and thrilling time can still be found with filmmakers who know what they’re doing.
Chum may be serious, but it’s also poorly written/performed, lacking in any degree of tension, devoid of personality, and so on. By contrast, Hungry lets its suspense build on the backs of engaging characters, good performances, and believable writing. Only one of its ensemble is obnoxious – a major feat for this kind of film – but even then, their motivations are both well-written and understandable.
The rest of the characters are people you’d be happy to see survive the night, and rather than looking forward to the next kill, director James Nunn and his cast leave us uncertain and nervous about who’s going to go belly up. The nervous business traveler wanting to get back to her kids? The family of three celebrating lost loved ones while on their vacation? Joaquim de Almeida’s Walker, an old hunter, is introduced saying, “The only cute hippo is a dead hippo,” so you pretty much know where he’ll end up.
To that end, the film teases out its hippo’s first appearance until well into the ninety-minute running time. We get ripples and splashes, but it’s only around the midway point that we get our first real look at the beast, and it looks fantastic. Nunn goes on to show the hippo in all its glory, and it’s a convincing antagonist brought to life through practical prosthetic effects and digital work. From the ear twitches to the beast’s giant maw opening wide with awe and malice, the hippo’s presence feels part of the action. There’s a tangible nature to it, something practical effects excel at while digital effects sometimes fail to convince of, and both succeed here with quality work from all involved.
While we get brief exteriors early on and some visually appealing drone shots, the bulk of the film unfolds on what looks to be a highly believable, set-dressed water tank (but could very well be an actual location, in which case, kudos to the team). It’s wholly convincing as a section of the bayou, complete with shoulder-high water and arching, twisting trees emerging into the sky. The film was shot in Malta, which is, coincidentally, where Chum was filmed as well.
Nunn, who also wrote Hungry, is now ten films deep into a fairly interesting career as a genre filmmaker. He’s made four movies with Scott Adkins, three of which are certified action bangers (with 2016’s Eliminators in particular being an underrated gem). He dipped a toe into the animal attack subgenre back in 2022 with the aforementioned Shark Bait, and it’s clear he learned some lessons from that endeavor, as its first hour is an engaging, attractively shot feature that sinks fast as soon as its poorly rendered shark becomes a lead character. Hungry improves on every aspect of that film, with its biggest step up being in regard to the effects.
If there’s an area or two where Hungry lacks bite, it’s in both its gore and its ending. There are numerous kills here, but the nature of the attacks and the choices made by Nunn mean none of them result in gory assaults or outcomes. We’re shown the torn apart corpse of an alligator early on, but most of the human kills see them attacked and dragged underwater, leaving nothing but a blood spill behind. Similarly, while the ending encounter satisfies, it still feels like it should have been a bigger confrontation. Neither of these aspects really hurt the film, but a bolstering of the gore and ending antics would have definitely upped the film’s ultimate entertainment value and rewatchability.
When all is said and done, Hungry is a genuinely solid animal attack film that succeeds in making its creature threat thrilling, entertaining, and, dare I say, educational? Title notwithstanding, the film acknowledges that hippos are vegetarians, meaning the five hundred or so people they kill every year – a true fact! – are slaughtered not out of hunger, but out of spite, self-defense, or a desire to play “land orca” while tossing around us fragile humans like we’re little more than seals in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Characters are grounded and engaging, the film moves well between suspense, character beats, and action, and the effects used to bring the hippo to life are highly effective and never feel like distractions. Drop those expectations of a Hungry Hungry Hippo romp, and settle in for a terrific little survival thriller about an angry, angry hippo instead.
Chomp chomp.
Hungry releases in select theaters today, June 3, before arriving on VOD on June 23, 2026.
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