The real success of this series is in the acting, led by two greats: Hugh Bonneville, left, and Karen Gillan, who play co-presenters Douglas and Madeline, both beloved and trusted national news figures.Sally Mais/BritBox/Supplied
Douglas is Cancelled has a bit of a marketing problem. With fictional series such as The Morning Show and countless real-life incidents of problematic news anchors, there’s nothing fresh about a show centring on a beloved, white male presenter whose sexist joke threatens his career. It’s an unfortunate title and logline, especially since this project actually has plenty to add to the conversation.
The four-part limited series, which debuted on BritBox on March 6, stretches beyond cancel culture to offer a snapshot of culpability, perception, misogyny and revenge. The self-described dramedy is more drama than comedy, and leans toward darker material as the story unfolds. By the finale you’ll feel completely immersed, as though you’re in a live theatre waiting for the curtains to drop.
That’s in part due to creator Steven Moffat, of Doctor Who and Sherlock fame. The writer delivers plenty of twists and an overarching mystery throughout the series by refusing to reveal the central, sexist joke until the final moments. But the real success of this series is in the acting, led by two greats: Hugh Bonneville and Karen Gillan.
The pair play co-presenters Douglas and Madeline, both beloved and trusted national news figures. At the beginning of the series, viewers learn that Douglas has been accused of making a sexist joke, which he cannot recall, at a wedding. It’s a blip until Madeline retweets it to her two million followers, setting off a PR crisis.
At first, Douglas is Cancelled seems to be in the male presenter’s corner. The first two episodes showcase him as a stand-up guy, loving father to his Gen Z daughter Claudia (Madeleine Power), and caring husband who puts up with his high-strung wife, Sheila (Alex Kingston). It’s easy to feel sympathy for the man as balances his relationships with the various women in his life alongside the ones he has with his anxious producer Toby (Ben Miles) and his clueless agent Bently (Simon Russell Beale). Add in an unfunny joke writer named Morgan (Nick Mohammed), who is tasked with making up an alternative joke for Douglas to tell, and the show launches as an “everyman surrounded by fools” comedy. Cancel culture is real, and even the nice guys are at risk!
Madeline, meanwhile, appears as your tropey femme fatale with excessive confidence and manipulative tendencies. Her motives are unclear and her lack of interpersonal relationships makes her unrelatable. In that way, Douglas is Cancelled captures Madeline through a misogynistic lens; she’s the unlikeable one next to a beloved, male muck-up. Think Breaking Bad’s Skyler White or Ozark’s Wendy Byrde.
Once the third, Madeline-centric episode hits, however, the show zags the other way. It’s a tense installment full of high-stakes, which, without giving anything away, tackles a Me Too narrative. Gillan delivers the performance of her career to reveal conflicting emotions, deep trauma and female rage, among other compelling character developments. The dialogue between Gillan and Bonneville feels like it’s taking place onstage, but with the added bonus of close-ups on every expression and detail.
It’s those scenes that truly turn the series into something great. With so many television offerings these days, we often look for character development and satisfying conclusions when considering what to watch. But Douglas is Cancelled makes the case for character studies, deeply examining characters as they are in the moment, and proves that, sometimes, it’s more compelling to present people at their core and allow viewers to draw their own conclusions.
Sure, that means that some of the side characters may feel too stereotypical or one-dimensional, particularly in a limited-series setting like this. But their job is to support the two main figures, and push them into exposing deeper layers of themselves. Douglas is Cancelled does that in both obvious and surprising ways, leading to an ending that says more about social culpability, office culture and the entertainment landscape than its simple title suggests.