Loved Killing Eve? This post-Epstein thriller is must-watch TV

Furious ★★★★★

White-hot anger vibrates through Furious, a remarkable thriller for the post Epstein-age, where the perverted and wealthy are so insulated from repercussions that they can barely hear the outrage of the masses, let alone be brought to justice.

Created by Elizabeth Meriwether (the showrunner behind 2025 standout Dying for Sex, as well as The Dropout), Furious is reportedly inspired by 1987 psychological thriller Black Widow. Both focus on a female serial killer and a female agent trying to stop her.

We open on the former – a small, childlike figure (Lola Petticrew, Say Nothing) in a Halloween cat mask watching a sedated man crawl across the floor of a Manhattan brownstone, before she heads outside to hand out candy to trick or treaters. He makes it to the stairs by the time she’s back, where she injects him and lies close to watch the light fade from his eyes.

The murder catches the eye of Alice (Emmy Rossum, Shameless), an ex-NYPD officer who left for the FBI after her boyfriend and fellow cop (The White Lotus’ Jake Lacy, excellent as always as a complete jerk) assaulted her, and is working a desk job in the hopes of moving into the sex crimes unit.

Joining forces with NYPD ally Danny (Scoot McNairy) and FBI’s sex crimes unit boss Nora (Quincy Tyler Bernstine), Alice soon identifies their killer as a trafficking victim exacting revenge. Across its eight episodes, Furious is a game of cat-and-mouse between killer and agent. And, much like Killing Eve, it’s clear that both the killer and Alice are more alike than not (although this series is free of that show’s campier impulses).

Led by three searing performances from Rossum, Petticrew and Bernstine, Furious is a rare beast: a show about sexual violence that doesn’t rely on the dead bodies of women to convey the depth of depravity that’s occurred. The violence that is on screen – mostly, yes, against men – is slight. Its erratic, percussive score is almost more confronting, filled with jarring synths and plosive choral stuttering. Instead, the trauma lives in slight moments. The cold ease in which Petticrew’s character can slip between personas, having been trained to do so for “clients”; Alice wolfing down meals, as if suspicious of attack; Nora’s sobering fury in the few moments she lets herself feel through a haze of booze.

“The ones really to blame never get caught. Never. Never,” says Nora to Alice. “You think you’re going to catch anyone who matters?”

Thankfully, Furious doesn’t make its point about justice at the sacrifice of our own enjoyment. This is a zippy watch, full of twists that draw towards an immensely cathartic finale.

Furious is streaming on Disney+ now.

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