A THOUSAND BLOWS: A Dull Attempt to Cash In on Peaky Blinders

The fact that A Thousand Blows isn’t catastrophically bad, just somewhat dull, doesn’t mean it stands out for its quality—let alone qualifies as a masterpiece. It’s a derivative product compared to Peaky Blinders, and that changes everything. The attempt to construct a world using similar principles no longer feels unique, and the abundance of side plots makes it hard to take Steven Knight’s series seriously as a boxing drama.

Perhaps the creators were too eager to moralize, constantly repeating the same slogans about the devaluation of a person based on their skin color and social class. We’ve seen this before, and there’s no need to shout about inequality so openly into the camera—it risks becoming cliché. And in terms of the ideological portrayal of the characters and the world they inhabit, A Thousand Blows unfortunately veers into kitsch.

This is largely due to the somewhat sentimental story of Jamaican newcomer Hezekiah Moscow (Malachi Kirby), who, after losing his father—shot by redcoats—desperately fights to preserve his identity in the face of advancing English colonialists, only to ultimately lose and decide to throw himself into the lion’s den. He flees Jamaica in search of a better life, landing in the most wretched part of London: the East End. There, he learns just how ruthless white men can be—not just toward outsiders but even their own people. However, Hezekiah has a talent that, in this brutal, criminal world, becomes not only a means of survival but also a springboard to fame. He can box, which draws the attention of local kingpin Sugar (Stephen Graham) and the ambitious thief Mary Carr (Erin Doherty).

It seems that, along with his friend who escaped Jamaica with him, the worst is behind them—after all, even underground boxing can lead to a solid, if criminal, career. But Hezekiah wants more. The series presents this as his relentless desire to climb from the lowest social ranks to high society—something nearly impossible at the time. And yet, in the show, it seems entirely plausible, though Hezekiah eventually learns how two-faced the upper class can be. Any admiration for an African, black identity proves to be as shallow and false as a muddy puddle in the East End.

The problem is, this rags-to-riches story has been told before—countless times, and often better. Its execution here feels unoriginal and overly didactic, making it difficult to connect with the main character.

And this personal drama overshadows what should be a gritty boxing film. The brutality is there but muted—where Peaky Blinders was merciless, this show replaces it with moralizing and an insistence on portraying women as a powerful force within the criminal underworld, not to mention as sexually liberated in ways that some women today, in our supposedly liberal society, are not. It comes across as somewhat artificial. The creators needed to decide whether they were making a true social drama or a raw boxing story. The indecision results in uninspiring characters, and while the world-building is rich, meticulously designed, and visually compelling, it remains essentially the same as Peaky Blinders. We’ve seen this for multiple seasons already, making A Thousand Blows feel like a clone of that series, lacking fresh ideas. If the boxing elements had been more pronounced, the reception might have been different. But as it stands, the show’s boxing atmosphere is constantly disrupted by its somewhat cheap social commentary and the predictable hero’s journey toward an upper class where he never quite fits.

All of this might sound like ruthless criticism of a series born from the Peaky Blinders stable. But that’s not entirely the case. It’s also not an attempt to expand that universe, so it can’t be defended on that front either. Still, I wouldn’t go so far as to tell you not to watch it. A Thousand Blows is an example of well-made television, but it lacks soul—the deeper exploration of its themes or a compelling enough approach to justify its existence alongside the many beloved seasons of Peaky Blinders. Unfortunately, it just doesn’t measure up.

The acting is significantly weaker than in Peaky Blinders. Only Erin Doherty as Mary and Stephen Graham as Sugar truly stand out. The rest of the cast performs adequately, but from a series like this, you’d expect more emotion, more imagination—something beyond just skimming through the script from episode to episode. That’s why I don’t see it gaining much popularity or lasting multiple seasons. Maybe there will be one more, but what unexpected twists could the story possibly take? We’ll find out, but honestly, I can’t see what would make me invest my time in another season.