SERIES REVIEW – Netflix’s latest political thriller pits two powerhouse women against each other in a high-stakes game of diplomacy and deception. But instead of plumbing the murky depths of ambition, ethics, and responsibility, it settles for surface-level spectacle and recycled spy tropes.

“I just don’t want anything to mess this up — the three of us, you know?” pleads Abigail Dalton, played by an intensely earnest Suranne Jones, in the opening scene of Netflix’s Hostage. She and her husband Alex (Ashley Thomas) are weighing the pros and cons of her running for party leader — a move that would make her Prime Minister. She’s already fretting over how the decision could fracture their family. “If it comes to that, you’ll make the right call,” Alex replies with saintly confidence — a dead giveaway that by the end of episode one, Abigail will be forced to choose between the job and the people she loves. Yep, that’s Chekhov’s Gun being loaded in plain sight.

Scandal, Soft Power, and Sartorial Showdowns

That tension anchors the series, which frames its female leads as titans of statecraft locked in a stylish cold war. Jones shares the spotlight with Julie Delpy, who plays Vivienne Toussaint, the sleek French president entangled in both diplomatic drama and personal skeletons. The central question: when duty to the public clashes with loyalty to loved ones, where do you draw the line? And how far are these women willing to go to cling to the thrones they fought so hard to win?

As the title hints, Abigail soon finds herself at the heart of a hostage crisis — all while navigating a cancer drug shortage in the UK and a high-profile state visit from Toussaint’s entourage. Her husband Alex is kidnapped while on a mission with Doctors Without Borders in French Guiana. The captors have one demand: Abigail must resign as Prime Minister. Oh, and Alex’s team is also being held — but don’t expect character arcs there. They’re basically placeholder hostages, about as fleshed-out as a squad of NPCs from a PS2-era stealth game.

Vivienne doesn’t escape unscathed either. A buried scandal comes back to haunt her, dragging her into the geopolitical mess. Meanwhile, Abigail is swamped on all fronts — a mutinous cabinet, a performatively disgruntled chief of staff (Lucian Msamati), a rebellious teenage daughter (Isobel Akuwudike), and a dying father (James Cosmo) fill her schedule with melodrama. From there, the show hits autopilot: sleeper agents, backroom deals, top-secret dossiers, foggy underground bunkers, and the occasional gratuitous explosion round out a script that feels machine-generated at times.

Great Cast, Flimsy Blueprint

I really wanted to root for Hostage. On paper, it had the right ingredients. Delpy oozes icy charisma, gliding through scenes like a political femme fatale with a Chanel war strategy. Jones delivers a reliable, if not particularly daring, performance. And honestly, in 2025, it’s still a breath of fresh air to see women calling the shots, issuing orders, and navigating crisis scenarios instead of being the ones tied to a chair begging for rescue. At the very least, it’s enjoyable watching two polished powerbrokers stride through palatial corridors in pristine coats and power suits, trading smiles that could freeze lava. It’s The Devil Wears Prada by way of NATO summit — with secrets instead of stilettos.

But all that polish can’t cover for the structural cracks. The script leans hard into implausibility. The idea that anyone can just waltz into the UK Prime Minister’s crisis room? Laughable. Even a preschool has tighter security. The motivations behind the central conspiracy are so weak, they collapse under the slightest scrutiny. You keep waiting for the big reveal — the twist that makes it all click — but it never arrives. Instead, you’re left with clunky plot turns and a sinking suspicion that none of it really holds together.

The Questions That Should Have Driven the Show — But Didn’t

The biggest letdown? Hostage shies away from the messy, meaty questions that could have made it matter. Is Abigail genuinely driven by civic duty, or is she just addicted to the rush of power? What happens to a marriage when one partner realizes they’ll always come second to a job title? And can a family survive knowing they’re expendable if the political cost is too high?

“I have other priorities now,” Abigail tells her father, when he insists that getting Alex back should be her only concern. “Then I don’t know who you are,” he replies. And that’s the real issue: by the time the credits roll, neither do we.

-Gergely Herpai „BadSector”-