Watched: Mad Dogs, Season 1
British macho posturing, once you get past tanks like Ray Winstone and Ross Kemp, is a bit of a weird affair - because we don’t have US gangland vernacular to fall back on, archetypes tend to fall back onto cockney gangster or urban Northern thug - neither of which are particularly relatable, because most British people aren’t really like that. This (by and large) manages to get away from both of those while still keeping a little swagger - first and foremost, these feel like unfortunate middle-aged men making the most of a dire situation. Although the aesthetic feels like Sexy Beast, the general attitude is more like Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. These men cry and fuck up. They’re just as likely to get into a fight as they are to hide in a corner and look horrified.
I’m not sure if I’m going to watch the other three seasons (two are currently out; the fourth finished filming earlier this year); there are problems here, mostly regarding a weak ending and a one-sided supporting cast. For a three-hour investment, though, it’s worth your time. And surprisingly funny.