In the first scene of Lockwood & Co., an older woman offers an apologetic look to two teenagers carrying swords on their belts and toting duffel bags filled with small bombs. “When I was your age, I was out chasing boys, having fun,” she says. “It’s terrible the world’s come to this. I feel sorry for your generation.” Then she walks away, leaving them all alone to deal with the mess.
Naturally, she’s referring to a half-century-long epidemic of ghostly visitations. But she could just as easily be a baby boomer offering a half-hearted apology to a couple of Gen-Zers for any number of real-world crises, from climate change to income disparity to rolling pandemics. It’s this binding central metaphor that helps set Lockwood & Co. apart from any number of teen supernatural potboilers that streamers churn out each year. It’s easy to become invested in its young heroes, because their plight is one we can instantly recognize.
But that’s not the only thing that makes this Netflix series worth spending a few cold, cloudy afternoons watching on your couch. Unlike many of its peers, Lockwood feels lived-in; it’s easy to believe you’re stepping into a world that’s already been around for a while. It’s stylishly shabby and threadbare, like an old overcoat hidden in the back of a thrift shop.
Based on Jonathan Stroud’s critically acclaimed young-adult book series, Lockwood comes from creator Joe Cornish (Ant-Man, The Adventures Of Tintin), the British comedian-turned-filmmaker who first made a splash with his 2011 sci-fi indie Attack The Block, which introduced audiences to future Star Wars breakout John Boyega. Anyway, this new series is set in an alternate reality where the dead return as restless, angry spirits to plague the living—an unexplained phenomenon that the characters simply refer to as “the Problem.” Since adults can’t sense ghosts, humanity’s first line of defense is teenagers trained in the art of supernatural combat.
Like many an adventure story, the show centers on a trio of flawed heroes: Lucy Carlyle (Ruby Stokes), a gifted “listener” who moves to London to flee a tragedy in her hometown; Anthony Lockwood (Cameron Chapman), a dashing ghost fighter with an enigmatic past and a barely concealed death wish; and George Karim (Ali Hadji-Heshmati), the prickly but well-meaning brains of the operation. Their titular paranormal investigative agency is a bootstrap operation that, unlike its competitors, runs without adult supervision. And with coats this billowy, who needs grownups?
Cornish and his team are economical with their world-building. Rather than dumping a load of exposition in the first episode, Lockwood throws us in the deep end and trusts that we’ll learn to swim. The series starts out teatime-slow, but the pace picks up after a few episodes once the show finds its footing. (This kind of early plot drag has become all too common on streaming dramas.) It’s a dark Scooby-Doo mixed with Being Human and Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency—not to mention The Bastard Son & The Devil Himself, another recent Netflix supernatural drama that was canceled too soon.
There are plenty of genuinely scary ghost encounters, rip-roaring swordfights, and genre jargon; but Cornish’s series stands out for its patient character work. We spend as much time with Lucy, Lockwood, and George around the kitchen table at their shabby Marylebone headquarters as we do watching them escape paranormal encounters by the skin of their teeth. Throughout, the show never loses its focus on the toll that routine trauma has taken on humanity at large and its young defenders in particular.
Lockwood has pinned its hopes on a cast of relative unknowns, and the gambit pays off. Chief among them is Chapman as Lockwood in his first-ever screen role. From his confident strut to his melancholy eyes, the actor feels like a young David Tennant (the fact that his costume bears an uncanny resemblance to Tennant’s in Doctor Who only heightens the likeness). Chapman is a magnetic presence as a swaggering showoff who, beneath the confident veneer, is haunted by more than ghosts. Though he’s only 19, he exudes the world-weariness of someone much older.
He shares a crackling chemistry with Stokes as Lucy; the pair play off each other like Mulder and Scully, trading as many barbs as longing looks. Best known for playing the second-youngest Bridgerton daughter, Stokes anchors Lockwood in emotional realism. As jaded and determined as she is witty and vulnerable, her Lucy is a teen heroine who’s easy to root for. As George, Hadji-Heshmati (Holby City) adds a spice of weirdness to the central trio, and his guileless, wide-eyed demeanor reminds us that these hardened detectives are, after all, just kids.
Among the supporting cast, Hayley Konadu (Moon Knight) stands out as Flo Bones, a Thames mudlarker who sells haunted relics on the black market. She’s a warm, chaotic presence as one of the few adults who sees the Lockwood gang as more than a liability. Meanwhile, Game Of Thrones alum Ben Crompton is appropriately menacing as the sinister Barns, and Morven Christie (Grantchester) keeps you guessing as the mysterious overseer of a deeply cursed cemetery.
All in all, Lockwood is an appealing blend of noir-tinged detective tale, horror, and lowkey teen drama with just the right amount of witty banter. Both grim and cozy, it’s the TV equivalent of a strange old bookshop hidden down a London side street. You can practically smell the dust—and we mean that as a compliment.
Lockwood & Co. premieres on January 27 on Netflix.