Alright, movie buffs! Let’s dive into “Taboo,” shall we? This series—oh my goodness, if ever there was a visual smörgåsbord of grit and grime—this is it! A thick atmosphere of 19th-century London, fog rolling in like my childhood memories of Midsummer’s dag right before opening the sill.

Now, Tom Hardy, right? He’s like a brooding Swedish autumn, equally intense and breathtaking. He plays James Delaney, back from the dead? Well, sorta. Sporting a hat that’s gone through more than Håkan Hällström’s lyrics, Hardy grunts, broods, and growls his way through the episodes like he’s channeling our gnarly viking ancestors. The series itself is like a hefty mix of history, fantasy, and a bit of insanity—for better or worse.

But I gotta say, the pace—it’s a slow burn, like waiting for the first frost here in old Sverige. Sometimes, honestly, I found myself checking the clock. Yet, the political intrigue makes up for it, and suddenly you’re sucked back in! It’s like opening a can of surströmming, repulsion one moment, then strangely alluring.

A quick memory trip: Once, I was in London with friends, lost in the maze around Piccadilly, when the city felt just like the chaotic underbelly presented in Taboo. Wandering those streets, it had that unsettling, intriguing vibe—much like a scene out of this series.

Now, sensory-wise, “Taboo” is all gravelly voices, murky landscapes, and occasional flashes of brutal violence that would make anyone flinch. So, was it perfect? Nah. But did it whisk me away into its murky depths? For sure.

I’m telling ya, if ya like your dramas just a little muddy and substantial, consider putting on the kettle, grab a kanelbulle, and dive in.

Here’s where you can catch a glimpse of the madness yourself: Taboo