The Day of the Jackal is a thriller that constantly stops trying to thrill, and more than any other failing, that lack of urgency, tension, or excitement is its fatal downfall. An incredibly loose adaptation of Frederick Forsyth’s novel (which was made into a superior 1973 film by Fred Zinnemann) that has little relation to its source material aside from its general premise and main character, Ronan Bennett’s 10-episode Peacock spy saga, premiering Nov. 14, is undone by the most common of all streaming shortcomings: distension.
Padded with sluggish sequences and uninteresting subplots, this aggravatingly inert affair lumbers its way toward an unsatisfying finish line, in the process squandering a captivating performance by Eddie Redmayne as its chameleonic protagonist.
In Munich, the Jackal (Redmayne) dons elaborate makeup to pose as an elderly janitor so he can infiltrate an office building at night to shoot at Elias Fest, the scion of powerful right-wing politico Manfred. Elias doesn’t die but, as it turns out, this was part of the Jackal’s plan; he was simply using Elias as bait to lure his dad to the hospital in order to execute him with a sniper rifle from over two miles away.
This is a historic shot, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Bianca (Lashana Lynch), an MI6 agent with a specialty in firearms. Bianca barges her way onto the team investigating the crime, and enlightens her superiors—including Isabelle (Lia Williams) and Osita (Chukwudi Iwuji)—that only a highly skilled professional could have pulled off such a hit, not to mention hidden his enormous weapon in a tiny suitcase, as security camera footage indicates he did during his flight from the city.
The Day of the Jackal’s premiere generates modest anxiety from the Jackal’s methodical lethality, and Redmayne’s patient, cunning coldness is compelling. Bennett’s story, however, quickly hits the brakes. Having performed this task, the Jackal communicates via the dark web with his employer, who responds to a request for payment with “F---. You.” This unwarranted insult surprises and annoys the Jackal, even as he’s hired to eliminate a new target: Ulle Dag Charles (Khalid Abdalla), aka UDC, a billionaire tech titan intent on releasing a piece of software, dubbed River, that will make the globe’s financial transactions completely transparent.
UDC is like a Bizarro World version of Elon Musk, and though he’s championed by the left, he’s viewed as a mortal threat by the powers-that-be, led by Timothy Winthrop (Charles Dance), a mysterious bigwig who, from New York, has his underling Zina (Eleanor Matsuura) contract the Jackal to kill UDC before the crusader can demolish his empire.
UDC is a far blander mark than French president Charles de Galle, the Jackal’s assignment in the original book and film. Yet making things duller is this do-over’s primary accomplishment. The Day of the Jackal takes its precious time having the Jackal meet with Zina and negotiate his price, all as it focuses on both the Jackal and Bianca’s parallel home lives.
The Jackal is married to Nuria (Úrsula Corberó), with whom he has a baby boy, and when he’s not gallivanting around the world donning Mission: Impossible-style disguises, they live together in a lovely mansion in Cádiz, Spain. Nuria is a terrible bore and so are her suspicions—piqued by an unlikely sighting of her husband—that he’s up to no good. This motivates Nuria and her mother and brother (Jon Arias) to dig into the Jackal’s business, and she soon uncovers at least some of his secrets, upending his carefully devised work-life balance.
Nuria is an irritating and contrived thorn in her spouse’s side, and The Day of the Jackal expends excessive and tedious energy on her snooping around her house in search of clues about the source of her husband’s wealth. It also wastes huge chunks of time on Bianca’s domestic situation with her college professor husband Paul (Sule Rimi) and daughter Jasmine (Florisa Kamara), who are similar pains in the a--es, incapable of understanding that Bianca’s important job often takes precedence over being at home, and acting in the most petulant, selfish, and unfair ways imaginable.
In a series teeming with exasperating figures, Paul may be the most insufferable, eventually separating himself from Bianca (to go live with his ex-wife, no less!) because he can’t see that sometimes, her world-saving duties are more important than being available for Jasmine’s parent-teacher night.
These narrative strands are unnecessary distractions from the action at hand, and they drag the series into torpor. So too do flashbacks to Afghanistan which elucidate the Jackal’s backstory and strive to make him a tad more moral and sympathetic.
The Day of the Jackal is a case study in taking a sharp, dynamic espionage tale and stuffing it full of so much superfluous debris that it grinds to a halt, only capable of holding one’s attention during those rare moments when the Jackal finds himself in a car chase or a shootout. Alas, even then, the show’s staging is hit-or-miss; the fact that the finale’s big confrontation occurs in near-total darkness, thereby draining it of lucidity and electricity, is a fitting way to conclude such a listless venture.
Over the course of 10 protracted episodes that could have easily been cut down to five (or, you know, a two-hour feature film!), The Day of the Jackal crawls from one twist to another, such that Redmayne’s calculating stoicism occasionally resonates as boredom. It would be difficult to fault the actor for finding this mess less than inspiring, given that the more it reveals about his villain, the drearier he becomes.
In fairness, Lynch seems equally unenthused about these shenanigans, delivering a one-note performance that’s unconvincing whether she’s deducing the Jackal’s next move or fretting about her family’s betrayal. Everyone else, meanwhile, just goes through the motions (such as Dance, doing his usual imperious baddie routine) as Bennett indulges in various detours, be it the hunt for an MI6 mole or Bianca’s relationship with a famed gunmaker’s sister-in-law.
The Day of the Jackal is a preeminent example of the folly of expanding successful and beloved works to multi-season TV proportions. No matter its title, it’s a slog that feels like it goes on for years.
