This pitch-black, addictive sleeper hit was the perfect antidote to summer’s TV drought

For all the sunshine and al fresco dining that summer brings, one thing the season famously does not offer is good television. No, the months of June through to September are something of a dry spell for any channel surfer looking for a spot of quality telly – which is why the arrival of the searing new thriller Furious on Disney+ could not have come sooner. The series, which aired its explosive season finale just this week, is a dark and dangerous delight.

It’s said to be inspired by the 1987 movie Black Widow, but surpasses its source material from the get go; in fact, they are really only similar in the broadest strokes. Like that movie, Furious is the exhilarating story of a cat-and-mouse game played between a female FBI agent (Emmy Rossum) and a female serial killer (Lola Petticrew). Unlike its source material, however, our killer’s motivations are not financial.

They are, at the very least, sympathetic. Certainly as a viewer you feel that way after learning that Catherine’s targets are all men who had been, in some way or form, involved in her trafficking and sexual abuse as a child. The cat, or mouse depending how you look at it, is newbie FBI agent Alice Black – incidentally, the most FBI agent-sounding name there ever was.

Alice has plenty of demons of her own. It’s something that has become a trope of cop thrillers such as this one, but here it feels not only warranted but carefully thought through. Admittedly, I did turn on Furious on a weekday evening not expecting much beyond a momentary thrill.

The trailer, which pulled focus on Catherine’s candy-coloured clothes and array of fabulous wigs, looked a little derivative of Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman and as such felt a little passé, a little #girlboss – but what I found was so much more interesting, a simple set-up that belies a story of depth and complexity. While the show revolves ostensibly around Catherine’s kill list, ticked off as satisfactorily as though she were on a Tesco run, creator Elizabeth Merriweather casts her net of shame much wider than that. Starting first and foremost with the FBI and the police force, where agents and cops are disinterested in gendered violence, and some perpetuate it themselves.

We learn that Alice suffers from PTSD over a violent relationship with her cop ex-boyfriend (Jake Lacy on despicable form). The show goes further still, pulling in a Jeffrey Epstein-like billionaire who seems to be the missing piece connecting Catherine’s targets (he also has the initials JE). Perhaps more of an indictment on society than anything else in the show is a singular question that Catherine asks in episode five: “What’s the punishment for people who know what’s happening and do nothing?” Of course, Merriweather knows how to write a compelling female lead.