Rain Dogs review: Ambitious, original drama does too many things at once

Throughout the first three episodes we follow Costello as she invites us into the seedy underbelly of London, with the series touching on heavy big themes around class, poverty, sex, consent, generational trauma and voyeurism in all its forms.

Given that description, you may feel you know this series already, but believe me when I say this show is, for the large part, completely unknowable – the tone turns on a dime as the series revels in an undercurrent of humour that is so devastatingly dark, while sharp turns into earnestness keep you on your toes.

Throughout the first three episodes, we see Costello go from one dangerous or desperate situation to another, while she also rekindles her friendship with upper-class university friend and reprobate Selby, played by an excellent Jack Farthing.

By the third episode you may feel like you've got a sense of just what this series is. And then, suddenly, you don't.

A dramatic switch-up at the start of episode 4, and subsequent twists and turns throughout the eight-episode run, turn out to be both the series's saving grace and also, occasionally, its achilles heel.

Without going into spoiler territory, it's fair to say that this series is utterly original in its structure and where it takes its characters, and in making such sharp diversions keeps things interesting, but also sometimes gives a sense of whiplash, particularly as you start to enjoy any of the given set-ups.

Almost immediately at the start of the first episode the subject of "poverty porn" comes up, and understandably so - there is always the risk with this type of drama, particularly one which engages so wholeheartedly with the sex industry, to fall into the trap of ogling and sneering at its characters.

Thankfully, despite lingering fears over the early episodes, this series has far too much empathy with its characters for that and, crucially, it's also not nearly as interested in gritty realism as first appears.

What at first feels like is going to be a series led by its themes and its messages soon becomes a much-more character-led journey, looking at an individual's working-class experience through an almost fairytale lens. Everything is so off-kilter that even locations such as a council flat or a women's refuge feel as though seen through a somewhat fantastical haze.

Once you are aware of Carraway's background as a novelist it all makes a great deal more sense. The series at times feels like a novel, or even a series of novels, telling a selection of interlinked tales from the life of a distinct and singular protagonist.

Key moments are purposefully left off screen, dramatic twists of fate occur with little build-up and Costello and Iris's travels at times feel like a classical heroes' quest. This makes for a fascinating journey, but it also means the series keeps its viewers somewhat at arm's length.

To pull off such an individual character study needs someone seriously impressive and inimitable in the central role. Thankfully, Cooper is magnificent as Costello, with this potentially being her finest performance to date.

Stripped of the geographical specificity of This Country's Kerry or the heightened, bombastic comedy of Am I Being Unreasonable?'s Nic, Cooper fully commits to a more toned-down, straight-laced performance.

By this point, we know she can bring the funny, meaning she doesn't need to sell us on every joke – that will come naturally. Instead, she can focus on the traumatic experiences and sheer determination which drive Costello, and in doing so, successfully provides emotional depth.

It's in the relationships between the central trio of Costello, Iris and Selby that the series really sings, with the specificity of their simultaneous love, hatred, disappointment and hope for one another intimately drawn.

One just wishes that Iris was given more of her own individuality beyond being an innocent to motivate her mother, particularly given the strength of newcomer Fleur Tashjian's performance.

The constant shifts in tone, location and situation means that not all of its thematic explorations feel entirely authentic or its supporting characters fully realised – whether they feel real or cartoonish varies dramatically, and while it's always great to see Ade Edmondson, his character in particular appears as though a quirky addition for quirk's sake.

But if you're looking for a thoroughly unique journey to go on, filled with riveting performances, some empathetic characters, surprising yet welcome actor cameos and a fresh look at class in the UK, then strap yourself in for a wild ride with Rain Dogs.

Rain Dogs is available now on BBC iPlayer. For more news, interviews and features, visit our Drama hub, or find something to watch now with our TV Guide and Streaming Guide.

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