Obligatory preamble
For the purpose of this list, a show counts as a 2022 show if the majority of a season was released in the UK this calendar year.
I’m just a guy watching shows while eating dinner after work, not a professional critic. Hence, there are heaps of stuff that people rave about – The White Lotus, Severance, Succession, House of the Dragon, the Dropout, For All Mankind to name just some – which are not on the list because I haven’t had a chance to watch them. Even some shows, I really loved previous seasons of – notably Dead to Me and Staged – have new seasons out I’ve not got round to yet.
I also don’t log TV shows I watch, the way I assiduously do with films or books I’ve read. So something might have fallen through the cracks. Though if it did, I suspect that indicates it wasn’t that great.
Despite, all those caveats, if you like the sort of TV I like, this has been a pretty impressive year for the small screen, and I’m excited to talk about what’s out there. Indeed, the mathematically minded of you, may notice, that I am so excited that my top ten includes twelve seasons of eleven shows. In my defence, one show did have two seasons in 2022 and I genuinely feel my two #10s are on a par with each other.
=10. Sandman, Season 1 (Netflix)
What it’s about:
When a show is described as ‘high concept’ that’s usually in reference to its premise. However, in this adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s classic cycle of graphic novels, it’s the characters who get that label, as many of them are celestial embodiments of abstract notions like desire, death or despair.
Our protagonist is Morpheus (Tom Surridge), the guardian of our nocturnal hours. After escaping decades of imprisonment by a sinister Edwardian occultist (Charles Dance), he must undo the damage done to the waking world by the decay which has taken hold in the dream realm during his absence. However, this brings him into conflict with a literal nightmare named the Corinthian (Boyd Holbrook), a man with a pathological hatred of dishonesty and a wish granting amulet (David Thewlis), and members of his own family of immortal beings.
[It may not come as a shock to discover that I wrote this post back-to-front and might have chosen a different structure if I’d realised that the first thing I was going to have to do was describe the plot of the Sandman].
Why I like it:
I can relate if, based on that synopsis, the show strikes you as either intriguing or insufferable. However, I do hope it gets across how ambitious and distinctive it is. In the wake of Game of Thrones becoming the biggest show on earth, we’ve got a lot of shows that, at least to this non-fantasy afficionado, seem to run along similar Lord of the Rings inspired lines. That of course includes a GoT and a LotRs show. The Sandman is a different and altogether stranger sort of fantasy.
It is not a uniform success. Sometimes the weirdness makes it hard to relate to. Making it intentionally disorientating is valid stylistic choice given the material, but sometimes off-putting. The most compelling characters – Kirby Howell-Baptiste’s Death, Gwedonline Christie’s Satan, and Jenna Coleman’s gender-flipped John Constantine – are often ones who only appear in a single episode. And it’s split into two arcs, the second of which lacks the power of the first.
And yet, there is something invigorating about the Sandman. Even when it isn’t working, it’s always interesting. That it exists in a world whose rules though consistent are so winding and different from our own, makes it like a queen on a chess board, moving freely between tones, themes and emotional registers that are great distances apart. Laying behind it all is an admirably sincere defence of the value of imagination. In showing us why Dream’s mission matters, it justifies the need for all of us to be able to dream.
=10. Moon Knight (Disney+)
What it’s about:
The less you know about this MCU series inflected with Egyptian mythology going in the better. [Indeed, if you haven’t seen it and are planning to you might want to skip over the rest of this entry and avoid watching the trailer above]. However, we can say by the end of the first episode, that a British Museum gift shop assistant named Stephen Grant (Oscar Isaacs) is not only suffering from insomnia and losing stretches of time from his memory, but seems to be having run-ins with a mysterious cult leader (Ethan Hawke) and is apparently being haunted by visions of Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the Moon.
Why I like it:
Though, it certainly has its detractors, I found it a lot of fun watching it toggle between gothic horror and Mummy/Raiders style swashbuckling, whilst staying very rooted in the personal journey of its protagonist(s). I’d particularly highlight what is I think to date the best depiction of mental illness in a mainstream superhero story we’ve seen on screen. Which is all the more notable for coming on the heels of the Batman’s retrograde depiction of the patients of Arkham Asylum. Also, to address perhaps the most controversial aspect of the show, I appreciate Oscar Isaac noticing that Londoners have accents besides RP and Cockney.
9. Only Murders in the Building, Season 2 (Disney+)
What it’s about:
The unlikely trio of crimesolving podcasters (Steve Martin, Martin Short and Selena Gomez) investigate the murder of another of fellow resident of their New York high rise. Only this time with the police treating them as suspects.
Why I like it:
Though I don’t think this quite reached the heights of the first season – it took a while to get going, it grew over reliant on concept episodes, and continues Hollywood’s unfortunate attempts to make Cara Delevigne’s acting career happen – it’s still the pinnacle of the wave of murder mystery comedies that have followed in Knives Out’s wake. For all that it delivers tea spitting farce and well observed character comedy – which it does – they never come at the expense of laying out a genuine mystery for the characters and audience alike to puzzle through, nor of giving it real emotional stakes.
8. The Bear, Season 1 (Disney+)
What it’s about:
A gourmet chef from an award-winning New York restaurant (Jeremy Allen White) returns home to Chicago to take over the deeply dysfunctional sandwich shop his brother gifted him before committing suicide.
Why I like it:
Appropriately for a show that at one level is about a group of characters working out how to make a staple into something excellent, the Bear is a marvel of execution. The setting and structure of a workplace sitcom are repurposed to house the content and themes of a drama about family, guilt, addiction, and grit. Whereas a lot of prestige TV dawdles to ponder its own extravagance, the Bear is boiled down to perfection. Episodes with short runtimes, mostly taking place in a single location, are energised by the perennial urgency of a chef’s work. The effect is propulsive.
The writers seem to have a near perfect sense of when the audience (or at least this part of the audience writing this list) is about to find some aspect of the characters overdone or predictable, and how to refresh it or shift the focus. Indeed, perhaps the show’s greatest strength is that the character dynamics are so, well, dynamic. In a lot of stories which centre a group of characters developing into a team, you start the story with them in conflict, then proverbially speaking Phil Coulson dies, and they now understand they need to work together. The Bear is a lot more subtle. The staff at the shop are visibly more of a unit in episode 5 than in episode 3. However, there’s no moment this happens. Instead, we see them imperceptibly gelling together through the progressive accumulation of lessons learned, conflicts worked through, and strengths uncovered.
7. Mythic Quest, Season 3 (Apple TV)
What it’s about:
I can’t find it now, but I’m indebted to whoever aptly summed Mythic Quest up as a workplace comedy that actually foregrounds work rather than treating it as a convenient excuse to put characters in the same space on a regular basis. It follows the contrasting personalities behind a fantasy epic computer game. Without giving any spoilers for the first two seasons, the most recent run looks at what happens when the characters wind up scattered in different directions.
Why I like it:
At the time I’m writing this, I’ve only seen seven of the nine episodes in this season. However, it would need to take a real nosedive in quality not to appear high up in this list.
Mythic Quest very much fills the Parks and Rec shaped void in my TV watching habits. It manages to strike a similar balance between having bite but also extending its characters a lot of grace. Indeed, for my money it’s actually funnier than Parks and Rec as the shorter seasons you get on streamers allow it to achieve a higher concentration of its best jokes in each episode. It is also striking how consistently good the acting is. I’d especially highlight co-lead Charlotte Nicdao, who I’d seen in precisely nothing before*, but does an excellent job balancing a character who swings between overexcitement and exasperation to comedic effect, as well as rivalling Derry Girls’ Nicola Coughlan in terms of delivering the funniest on-screen meltdowns.
The premise is also a big part of its success. It is also not incidental that the show is about people making video games. Even if you’re not a player – and I’m not – you can likely still appreciate what the characters are striving towards and how their efforts manifest themselves in the final product in a way you wouldn’t if they were working in say a paper factory. And because they are focused on a creative space, working in a medium that involves storytelling and in which the customers play an ongoing role in shaping the product. Thus, the game can not only incite plot developments in a natural way but reflect and intensify the themes and ideas underlying the story.
The third season grows in a number of rewarding ways. Two of the best but most underdeveloped characters, permanently put upon HR manager Carol (Naomi Ekperigin) and alarmingly intense PA Jo (Jessie Ennis), are given their own arcs. You also have to marvel, at the extent to which scenes almost certainly written and shot before Elon Musk’s takeover of Twitter, sound like they’re parodying what happened afterwards. It also continues the show’s tradition of having a format breaking bittersweet episode in the middle of the season and season 3’s is especially poignant. The third season hasn’t finished and I’m already pining for the fourth.
6. Ms Marvel (Disney+)
What it’s about:
The second MCU show to make the list. This one has a Spider-Manish set-up. Kamala Khan (Iman Velani) is a rather aimless Jersey City high school student and Carol Danvers (AKA Captain Marvel) superfan. That is until she incorporates a bangle gifted by her grandma in Karachi into her costume for “Avengers Con” and unlocks Kamala’s ability to conjure hard structures out of the light around her. Which, unfortunately, makes her a target both for interdimensional beings called the Clandestines and Damage Control, a fictional stand-in for America’s Department of Homeland Security.
Why I like it:
My reactions to the initial episodes were essentially that it was clearly exceptionally well made, with a lot of visual flair and characters who were good company, but that it skewed very YA and I wasn’t sure I was that interested in a well-meaning drama about conflict with parents and working out what to do after school, with some superhero stuff in the background. I needn’t have worried. It rapidly evolves from Muslim-American Gilmore Girls into a historical epic tracing the origins of Kamala’s powers back to the Partition of India, and then moves back again.
Arguably that shift as impressive as its results are, unbalances the a show. There are thematic reasons Ms Marvel needs Kamala to move between Jersey and Karachi (and the wider MCU continuity may require her to have dealt with her backstory before her big screen debut next year). Nonetheless, trying to include Jersey and Karachi focused stories with two essentially unconnected sets of antagonists in a single six-episode run was arguably a bit much. It might have been better if the Karachi story had been saved for a second season.
That said I’m not going to knock the show too much for being ambitious. The superhero plot is to a large extent secondary. Creating a show like this with a Muslim heroine is obviously an important corrective to decades of TV where the only time Muslim characters played a significant role is as villainous terrorists. But beyond that a large part of what makes the show works is that Kamala’s identity is very specific. She’s not just a Muslim, she’s a second-generation Pakistani-American from a particular neighbourhood in Jersey City, based on comics written by someone from the same background, who also serves as an executive producer for the series. This stands in sharp contrast to most superhero stories, which even if they are not technically set in an intentionally generic fictional place like Metropolis or Gotham, often seem like they do. Perhaps the hope is that if left devoid of specificity, the protagonist’s vague backgrounds and milieu will serve as blank canvasses for audiences to project their own experience onto. Ms Marvel demonstrates what is lost by this approach. The rooted setting leads not only to a world that feels more tangible, but also characters who seem more natural and nuanced. I would suggest that is more not less valuable in a show where the central character can harness interdimensional energy to summon shields, platforms and catch people in mid-air.
5. Blackbird (Apple TV)
What it’s about:
Based on the real-life story of Jimmy Keene (Taron Egerton), a convicted drug trafficker, who strikes a deal with the FBI where in exchange for the possibility of early release from prison, he is transferred to the cell adjoining that of a suspected serial killer Larry Hall (Paul Walter Hauser) in the hope he can build a rapport with him and quite literally find out where the bodies are buried, before Hall is released to potentially kill again.
Why I like it:
If the serial killer genre has a signature scene, it’s a detective going into prison to glean insights from an imprisoned murderer. Think Jodie Foster walking along the corridor to meet Anthony Hopkins (or William Peterson to see Brian Cox if that’s more your speed). Indeed, in Mindhunter, we had a whole show built around scenes where the collapsing of the physical space between hero and villains, also portends a dangerous physic closeness. Blackbird ups both the danger and claustrophobia of this scenario by cutting off its protagonist’s means of retreat.
Egerton is fantastic as a man staring into the moral abyss and having it stare back at him. He constantly seems to be on an ethical precipice. There is a real danger that trying to build a rapport with someone whose mind has grown horrifically warped will break his own sanity, yet there is also hope that facing down that horror will enable him to outgrow his own venal tendencies.
However, it is Hauser’s performance that really stands out. He’s doing a lot of big, obvious acting – adopting a highly unusual speech pattern and distracting mannerisms – whilst also very subtly modulating how these ticks present themselves from moment to moment. In his hands, a frankly weird individual never seems less than human. Indeed, Hauser shows him as someone who generally often seems pathetic, not infrequently worthy of sympathy, and just occasionally, when we see him clearly, he turns the audience’s blood to ice. Crucially, this is not because he’s playing a manipulative or chameleon like character. These are all genuine aspects of who he is. The dramatic tension arises from whether Keene can get close enough to the threatening parts of that personality long enough to say whether he is guilty of the crimes he is accused of.
This is probably the least comfortable watch on this list. The subject matter is horrific, and the atmosphere of the prison scenes is unrelentingly oppressive. However, it is never less than compelling and is ultimately rather profound.
4. Hacks, Season 1 and 2 (Prime Video)
What it’s about:
Two comedians, Deborah Vance (Jean Smart) a fading megastar stand-up and Ava Daniels, a struggling millennial writer, are drawn into an unlikely collaboration despite their near complete inability to go more than 5 minutes without exasperating or emotionally wounding one another.
Why I like it:
Hacks square a lot of circles. By being a drama centred on comedians, it gets to allow its characters to be uproariously funny in a way that never detracts from the show’s verisimilitude. And through sheer good writing, it manages to showcase one of the best supporting casts on telly, whilst also depending on the interplay between the two central characters to power the story. They both tend towards being selfish, thin skinned, and, when they feel like it, uninhibited about steamrolling past social conventions. Combined with very sharp writing and delivery, this makes for some hilarious putdowns and moments of chaos. However, this isn’t (just) a show about bad people being unpleasant. Precisely because they are so alike, Debra and Eva are able to understand each other and draw something better out of each other. This ultimately makes it a quite humane show that finds the best in its characters even when they do their darndest to hide it.
3. Derry Girls, Season 3 (Channel 4)
What it’s about:
The comedic travails of a group of Irish Catholic teenage girls (and one English boy) growing up in (London)Derry in the 90s. In the show’s final season, the girls face the end of school, their childhoods, and just maybe of the violence that has plagued their hometown for decades.
Why I like it:
A big part of the humour of the first two seasons of Derry Girls lay in how habituated the characters had become to things that would freak the hell out of most people (including one suspect the show’s mostly British and American audience). Soldiers in full combat gear carrying SA80s are almost part of the background wallpaper, bomb scares regularly punctuate daily life, and finding a member of the IRA hiding in the boot of your car hoping you’ll inadvertently carry him across the border into Ireland is unwelcome, but not wholly unexpected. Not only our protagonists, but also their parents hardly remember a time before the bloodshed.
Then in a superlative sequence at the conclusion of the penultimate episode of s.2, the shows usual absurdist hijinks – this time involving a new student from Donegal, a school prom and buckets of tomato juice – are interspersed with absolutely sincere moments of the adult characters seeing and then rejoicing at the news that the IRA has called its first ever ceasefire.
S.3 explores what it’s like to live through a moment of such profound political transition. Crucially, by recognising that whilst the quintetto of sixth formers at its heart are clearly aware of and interested in the events that will eventually lead to the Good Friday Agreement, their predominant focus is on ordinary teenage things. And being teenagers, with the attendant big emotions and dubious sense of judgement, their pursuit of what they want tends to lead to comedic mishaps.
This is not to say it’s an apolitical show. Even its name would be taken by some as a political statement, believing that the city where its set should rightly be known as ‘Londonderry’. But creator Lisa McGhee’s insight is that broad comedy allows her to be exceedingly subtle about the grander aspects of the story she’s telling. To give one example, we saw in the second season, how segregated the two communities are, through how hideously awkward the girls are when forced to spend time a weekend away with Protestant boys as part of a cringeworthy “Hands Across the Barricades” peacebuilding initiative. It is also notable for being a story about Northern Ireland that doesn’t centre armed republicans, either as heroes or villains. Virtually all the characters are working class Catholics with no links to the IRA or any other paramilitary group, and who we can reasonably infer mostly supported the SDLP rather than Sinn Fein. A perspective on the conflict as rarely culturally represented as that of the ordinary protestants shown earlier this year in Ken Branagh’s Belfast.
Three seasons of allowing history and politics to suffuse the texture of the show, but hardly ever rise to the surface, nor to negate the raw comedy of the situations it places its characters in, mean that when McGhee brings politics to the fore for the first time in the finale, it really makes an impact. Set on the day of the referendum to approve the Good Friday Agreement, it is perhaps the best single episode of telly I’ve seen this year. It not only manages to tie together the idea that both our protagonists and Northern Ireland are moving into a new era, it also shows the complexity of both transitions. For the first time, what is happening to the title characters becomes a metaphor for the wider sweep of history. Showing us how even for those who desperately want peace, the comprises of the Agreement could be difficult to take. And crucially, as always in Northern Ireland, it is not only the divisions between communities but also within them that matter. All of which is conveyed through the lives of five ordinary teenagers, whilst never going more than a few minutes without a moment of delirious comedy. A superlative and almost unimprovable exploration of universal themes through a loving rendering of a very specific place at a very specific time.
2. Andor, Season 1 (Disney+)
What it’s about:
The latest Star Wars series to arrive on Disney+. Ten years before his appearance as a spy for the Rebel Alliance in Rogue One, we meet Cassian Andor (Diego Luna) as a drifter trying to survive amidst the oppression and corruption of the Galactic Empire. When he kills two private military contractors trying to shake him down, he finds himself not only a fugitive from the Empire, but, perhaps as dangerously, viewed as a potential asset by a mysterious dissident named Luthen Rael (Stellan Skarsgård).
Why I like it:
I began my review of the Mandalorian a few years back by noting how it evoked a blend of John Williams’ classic score for the original trilogy and Enio Morricone’s scores for spaghetti westerns, and how this reflected the show’s genre melding and its relationship with the wider Star Wars mythology. For the sake of tradition let me start here with Nicholas Britell’s score for Andor and its relationship with John William’s iconic work. They are two very different composers. Williams famously writes big, sweeping orchestral scores – classical musical that harken back to Classic Hollywood**. They alternate between being playful, rousing and awe inspiring, whilst consistently making a statement. The music Britell, probably best known for scoring Succession and Barry Jenkins’ films, writes is more understated and soulful. And to a striking extent, that’s exactly what he wrote for Andor. He’s not trying to imitate Williams’ Star Wars scores, nor blend those iconic sounds with something, nor even to write something in conversation with them. Indeed, you’d be hard pressed if going solely on the evidence of his Andor score, to demonstrate that Britell has ever heard the Imperial March or the main theme that accompanies the opening crawl.
The decision to forsake the sonic glue that has held the franchise together for decades is symptomatic of just how thoroughly showrunner Tony Gilroy has broken with Star Wars’ signature style. This departure is absolutely necessary because this is a very different kind of Star Wars story. Andor is not a legend about magic, but a story grounded, if not in the real world, then what feels like a real world. It immerses the audience in the day-to-day reality of people living under – and upholding – an authoritarian system, and in the cost of resisting it. This isn’t a repudiation of Star Wars, but a fleshing out of it. This is more than a matter of familiar factions, events and planets appearing. The show’s central ideas about the interplay between autocracy and resistance have been there since a New Hope. For example, Princess Leia’s warning to Grand Moff Tarkin that “The more you tighten your grip … the more star systems will slip through your fingers” becomes the core of Rael’s plan.
Of course, this is nothing without the execution. Fortunately, nearly every aspect is exceptional. As I’ve already mentioned Britell’s score is haunting whilst being almost invisible. Gilroy’s dialogue is some of the best on TV, never mind in Star Wars. In contrast to a lot of recent Disney+ sci-fi shows it feels like real care and attention as gone into the effects and sets, and while all the cast are good, Skarsgård should be in serious contention for an Emmy.
1. The Capture, Season 2 (BBC)
What it’s about:
This techno conspiracy thriller exists at the intersection of two traditions: of British shows like State of Play and Edge of Darkness which are focused on official and corporate cover-ups and American stories like Enemy of the State and the Conversation about the unsettling potential of surveillance. The Capture’s distinct interest is in the dangerous potential of ‘deepfakes’ in a world that’s grown accustomed to treating video evidence as definitive.
Following the events of the previous season, DCI Rachel Carey (Holliday Grainger) has been exiled, McNullty in Season 2 of the Wire-style, to the part of the police she least wants to be in: overseeing a team of technical support specialists, who are far too competent to need her supervision. However, she is drawn back into the world of deepfake deceptions by the case of the “invisible man”, an assassin who appears able to edit themselves out of security footage in real time and is targeting people connected with a government decision about awarding a surveillance contract to a Huawei-esque Chinese firm.
Why I like it:
S.1 of the Capture was essentially a thriller and police procedural with the slightest seasoning of science fiction. An alarmingly small amount in fact. It would be a more comfortable world if the way deepfakes were shown being used was rather further from plausibility. S.2 creates an even more compelling cocktail by imagining the destruction that could be wrought by more advanced, but by no means fanciful, versions of the technology. Given this, the show’s style is augmented with a dollop of horror. Going all the way back to H.G. Welles storytellers have appreciated there’s something profoundly unnerving about someone able to see without being seen. The footage of ‘the Invisible Man’ is always unsettling, but when characters see it in real time on the CCTV of the building, they’re in, it becomes downright terrifying. However, the creepiest moments come when characters are confronted with deepfaked avatars of themselves. The cinematography often presents the deepfaked avatars as if they’re movie monsters. This both taps into the visceral unease most of us have at confronting ourselves as other see us – think how odd it is to hear your own voice – but also the reality that if someone can create a version of you that looks and sounds just like the real thing, then they essentially have control of your life. Especially given how much of our lives are now digitally intermediated. Strangers, colleagues and even loved ones can be convinced that you said and did things you never would, and you are powerless to refute it, because it’ll seem so obviously true – it’s on video. Hence, this season of the Capture taps into a strain of doppelganger or even body snatcher horror.
Which is far from saying it is diminished in any way as a thriller. Even once you’ve grasped that the name of game is to convince you that you’re seeing one thing, and then reveal, at an appropriately dramatic moment, that both your perception and that of the characters is being messed with, the show retains the ability to regularly execute these rug pulls. This also makes it the archetypal ‘phone down’ show. A lot turns on small details. So you cannot afford to miss any.
It also anchored by a strong set of characters. Grainger’s DCI Carey is a brilliant detective made relatable by human flaws, but crucially not the kind of flaws that have become cliché by now. Ron Pearlman’s turn as a true believer CIA agent remains as compelling as it is disturbing. He is a man whose black-and-white worldview paradoxically facilitates a dangerous ethical flexibility. And Season 2 gives us a new set of characters mostly linked to Isaac Turner (Paapa Essiedu), a Conservative MP serving as Security Minister. I normally find on-screen depictions of politics, especially British politics, ring false. But as I already intimated, the Capture is very much in the vein of State of Play. The way it shows Westminster and Whitehall working feels realistic and well researched, avoiding either indulging cheap cynicism and romanticising how difficult and often unpleasant decisions get made.
However, what earns the Capture the top spot, what seems to me like a stroke of genius, is how it harnesses its medium to not only convey a message but to begin training us in how to respond to its implications. The point uniting all of the show’s twelve episodes is that we cannot passively absorb the digital imagery our lives are now soaked in. We must be mindful of the distinction between what we appear to have seen and what we know we saw. However, that message is not simply something we think about after we finish. The act of following this engrossing narrative requires you practice what its creators are preaching.
Random observations
- 6 of the 11 shows streamed in the UK on Disney+. Because it encompasses what is available in the US as two separate services – Disney+ and Hulu – it has a pretty formidable output as far as British viewers are concerned. It certainly goes way beyond the kind of shows Disney+ is generally known for. That said, perhaps the most impressive showing is the two shows on Apple TV, given that I only watched two shows on Apple.
- 2 of the 11 are about teenagers from a religious minority trying both to the deal with ordinary teenage stuff and the consequences of their homeland having been partioned upon achieving independence from the British Empire.
- A few actors show up in more than one show on the list: Kirby Howell-Baptiste is in the Sandman and has a small role in Hacks; Ebon Moss-Bachrach is one of the core cast in the Bear and plays a significant role in Andor; and Ben Miles shows up in Andor and the Capture (i.e. my number #1 and #2 shows).
- It’s entirely a list of fictional shows, which a) potentially reflects a lot of the non-fiction TV I watch being rather mediocre true crime and b) balances out my reading habits which are almost completely dominated by non-fiction. That said trying to discover some better documentaries, should probably be a mission for 2023.
- At least 6 of the 11 series look to be getting further seasons. Which is encouraging.
- I didn’t intend it this way but I’m taking some patriotic pride in the fact that even though it’s mostly a list of American shows, #1-3 were all primarily filmed in the UK.
Thanks for reading and do let me know if you have any recommendations for things I’ve missed.
*Turns out this is an exaggeration as she plays a background character in Thor: Ragnarök
**The Jaws theme is a conspicuous exception
Matter Of Facts 
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