That’s what makes the many location and episode title cards, though irritating, a necessity. It all feels the same, and somehow looks the same, even when the colors and textures change dramatically. Sure, we see similar establishing shots in Denmark, and yes, we get accustomed to seeing Joyce’s (Kingson) front gates, but let your attention wander for more than a moment and you’re likely to get a bit lost.
There’s an admirable bluntness to how the show approaches death, violence, heartbreak, cowardice, and corruption. It’s not as though "The Widow" lacks compassion, and it certainly doesn’t revel in brutality. Instead, Williams and Williams force the viewer to accept that what Georgia is doing is dangerous, that the world is cruel, that people are going to die, and that other people, whether active or complicit in the killing, are responsible. “The Widow” is as willing as, say, “Game of Thrones” to kill its darlings, but does so with far less pomp and circumstance. Things blow up. People get shot. No one, save the woman with her face all over the posters, is safe for long. But it’s not intended to capital-S Shock. It just happens, without ceremony.
It’s an approach mirrored in the performances, particularly Beckinsale’s. It’s worth noting that this series, the majority of which takes place in the D.R.C., doesn’t have all that much time to spare for its African characters, save the villainous General (Babs Olusanmokun) being driven mad by guilt (the rare instance of the sameness being broken, as we step inside his head from time to time) and the little girl, Adidja (Nyandiko), whose story goes exactly where you think it’s going to go after she crosses paths with one of the main characters. Still, even the most underdeveloped characters fare reasonably well, because the cast is uniformly good, and Beckinsale is the kind of actor who can make listening or standing in silence a vital, compelling act. She’s subtle enough to make the clichés more palatable, dynamic enough to add emotional vitality to even the most flat piece of exposition, and thoughtful enough to bring it all back to this idea of grief—in nearly every scene, she gives the impression of a person who’s long been holding her breath. Whenever she even slightly releases it, this ostensible thriller becomes actually thrilling.
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