I go into so many historical fantasies over-brimming with joy…only to spend most of my time watching that optimism wash away bit by bit as I complain, “Hey, I was using that”. If I’m still watching several episodes in with a big, dumb smile on my face, something’s gone very right. “Renegade Nell” fulfills the promise that dozens of historical fantasy series before it have failed to keep.
At its heart is Louisa Harland’s Nell, a woman who ran away from home and disguised herself as a man to fight for the British in Spain. After the loss of her husband in battle, she’s returned home to her tavern owner father and two younger sisters. It’s not long before things fall apart and she’s framed for a murder she didn’t commit. Oh, and quick note: when she’s threatened, she’s possessed by a pixie and fights like a demon.
“Renegade Nell” is a silly series that knows it can make you laugh, but what I love is that its silliness is filmed so seriously. It’s shot with all the detail and reverence that a historical drama of the period would use, with tracking shots through crowds, patient reaction shots that let the actors treat these characters as real, and a quietly magnificent use of shallow focus to help us draw closer to them.
The set and the costume design veer from battered workaday life in a muddy tavern to brilliantly ridiculous visions of excess that steer just this side of a pastel wonderland. There’s a sense of play that threads through every element, from writing to performance to that design and cinematography, and ties it all together. When we’re so wrapped up in that sense of play, we’re driven to treat the consequences as real and important.
The phenomenal first episode ‘Don’t Call Me Nelly’ does some heavy lifting in terms of establishing the driving plot, the foundations of a larger arc, introducing multiple characters, and letting us taste the outlandish flavor of the action. Through it all, Harland has plenty of room to land an incredibly roguish performance that ranges from sauntering confidence to brash hotheadedness. If any of this sounds appealing, just watch the thing – it is an absolute hook.
The jokes are swift and incredibly well-written. While you could frame “Renegade Nell” as an 18th-century “Buffy”, the banter is thankfully very removed from the Whedonesque sensibilities that have dominated women-led supernatural pugilism over the last 25 years. The comedy’s more compartmentalized to each character, with bursts of wordplay between competitive egos, and Nell herself shouldering the bulk of the physical comedy. There’s even a selective use of takes where an actor appears to break character but they keep it in anyway because it ends up fitting the character so well. As roguish roles go, Nell is up there with your Han Solo, Odysseus, Lupin the Third, Robin Hood, and Jack Sparrow (momentarily leaving aside the profound ick that now surrounds the latter’s performer).
The fight choreography just works. It relies on some larger movements and wire-assisted stunts as Nell sends men spinning or flying away. I’m not always a fan of these physics-defying overstatements in choreo, but the over-the-top sensibility matches Harland’s swaggering performance so well that it feels of a piece. Anything less extravagant wouldn’t be enough to complement her.
Nell is the kind of role that is rarely written for women. When it is, it’s often fetishized within the writing (a la Amalia True in “The Nevers”) or shoved into weird purity boxes because it’s too scared of expanding past a narrow definition of feminine heroism (such as Nimue in “Cursed”). Nell is neither of those things and – showrun by Sally Wainwright – the series visits the ways in which women were constricted and disempowered in the 18th century, many of which still ring true today. Robin Hood may’ve seen the socioeconomic picture, but Nell sees how that ties into other systems of oppression, and then asks the very important question of how much they can all be punched.
The middle episodes of the show run into occasional pacing issues as it swaps between Nell’s, sidekicks’, and alternating antagonists’ plots, but its sense of place and design, presentation of all these characters, and interest in comical detail are all so strong that it’s only a minor issue when a scene here or there lingers an extra minute.
There are some complaints from the usual corners because the ratio of Black and South Asian people might not be historically accurate in this show about a fictional highwaywoman taking on mythically powered nobility with superstrength loaned to her by a pixie. I can’t quite pinpoint when, but there were some clues along the way that the show is a fantasy. It’s also about as accurate as countless British dramas over the decades that showed no Black or South Asian people in Britain.
Also, that casting strikes me as peak British. You’ll be shocked to learn there were centuries where the country relied on men to play women on stage despite 50% of the talent pool to which they had access actually being women. The U.K. loves portraying a diverse range of people with whoevs, they’re just finally recognizing and drawing on how diverse their talent pool is. Almost as if different eras have different casting conventions and using 100% of your talent pool gives you better results than using 40% of it.
Back to the main topic, “Renegade Nell” is a great watch. I love countless things about it. It’s a perfect fit if you want a historical-oriented, roguish “Buffy”, wanted “Cursed” to be more lively and self-aware, wanted “The Nevers” to focus on its story instead of creeping on its leads, if you want a series-level “Pirates of the Caribbean” without its deppth of baggage, or if you were interested in the live-action “One Piece” but wanted something much more grounded. I adore this show, and it’s refreshing to see this approach to historical fantasy done with such a thorough, consistent, and high degree of craft.
“Renegade Nell” is on Disney+.
If you enjoy what you read here, consider subscribing to my Patreon! It helps with the time and resources to write more articles like this.
Gabriel Diego Valdez 