The tradition of crafting dystopian narratives on a tight budget amidst the realm of UK television is well demonstrated in shows like Doctor Who, where the monsters were ingeniously fabricated with primarily glue and bin liners. Equally at hand is the mid-1980s rendition of The Tripods by BBC, where the plot revolved around colossal robots, which, curiously enough, were never shown on screen.
This British knack for producing bleak science fiction with minimal resources is again demonstrated in the thriller show, Curfew (available from Thursday on Paramount+). The programme is a tolerable thriller marred by peculiar gender biases. The narrative unfolds in a foreseeable future where a nighttime ban is imposed on men, enabling women to navigate freely. This odd premise leads one to question whether the makers considered the issue of domestic abuse and the assertion of a patriarchal society specifically in nocturnal settings.
There’s no escape from this constraint. Any male aged 10 and above is marked and venturing out leads to instant police action. Amidst this uncompromising law enforcement, there appears to be no concession for males wishing to roam at night, or is there? This perplexing issue confronts detective inspector Pamela Green, enacted by Sarah Parish, when a mutilated female corpse is found outside a women’s rights institution.
She is persuaded that the culprit is male, based on her belief that no woman could commit such a brutal act. However, her objectivity may be hindered by personal grief, as her own daughter was the most recent victim before these new restrictions were put into place. Despite her conviction, her colleagues view her theory with skepticism. Adding to the complexity is Green’s inept new associate, a sallow-faced chap named Eddie, portrayed by Mitchell Robertson.
Curfew, a dystopian thriller set in near future where post-sunset outdoor activity becomes an all-male taboo, challenges boundaries and biases while providing gripping entertainment. Herein is a story reflecting upon societal norms and prejudices, sure to keep viewers engrossed.
The story unfolds with Green and Eddie at the center, hunting down potential suspects within a contemporary context that introduces us to Mandip Gill’s character Sarah; a ‘tagger’ assigned with the task of attaching ankle bracelets to males. Sarah has become a focal point for the fury of men’s rights advocates and incensed incel groups.
Sarah’s relationship with her daughter Cass, played by Imogen Sandhu, is fraught with tension as Cass firmly believes that the nightly confinement of males inflicts more harm than benefit. Adding more to the interpersonal strife, Cass is continually at odds with her teacher Helen, played by Alexandra Burke. Helen spent her time teaching civics by propagating the official standpoint that maintaining quasi-imprisonment for males after sunset is deemed necessary for public safety.
Both Parish and Gil deliver commendable performances. That being said, Curfew, a series adapted from Jayne Cowie’s 2022 novel ‘After Dark’, seems to demand an exceptionally high degree of suspension of disbelief from its viewers. On one hand, viewers are asked to swallow the concept of men becoming so perilous to society that they must be confined to their homes once the sunsets. Simultaneously, it’s insinuated that the patriarchal hierarchy has been suppressed to such an extent that the government can enforce this curfew on them. These clashing ideas trivialise the pressing discourse on gender-based violence, reducing it to a simplistic plot device resembling a Star Trek gimmick. Additionally, a shocking twist in the conclusion of the four-part series’ first episode casts doubt on much of what we’d seen beforehand.
Contrarily, despite these issues, it’s refreshing to view a series that uses speculative fiction to delve into everyday sexism, highlighting the harsh reality of many women not feeling safe stepping out solo, whether it is night or day. It serves as a reminder of how science fiction can be used as a channel to delve into and examine contemporary societal issues. It also points out the fact that you don’t need an exorbitant budget to portray a dystopian future that closely mirrors our current reality, perhaps more closely than we’d wish to acknowledge.