The BBC has cast its Killing Eve prequel series Honey, starring Ann Skelly and Rory Kinnear, and I have questions. Specifically: why?
Don't misunderstand—Killing Eve was brilliant television, particularly in its early seasons when Phoebe Waller-Bridge was steering the ship. The cat-and-mouse game between Sandra Oh's MI6 agent and Jodie Comer's gloriously unhinged assassin created some of the most electric television of the late 2010s.
But the show also had a natural lifecycle. It peaked early, struggled to maintain momentum, and ended with a finale that satisfied exactly nobody. Killing Eve told the story it needed to tell. It's done. Finished. We can let it rest.
Except, of course, we can't. Because in modern television, nothing is ever allowed to simply end.
Honey will focus on Villanelle's handler, presumably exploring how the assassin organization operates and how handlers manage their sociopathic assets. Deadline reports that Skelly and Kinnear will lead the cast, suggesting the show will have serious talent behind it.
But here's the thing about prequels: they're inherently limited by what we already know. We know where Villanelle ends up. We know the organization's methods. We know the power dynamics. What dramatic tension is left to explore?
This feels like IP exhaustion at its finest—the entertainment industry's inability to let beloved properties die with dignity. Killing Eve was successful, so obviously we need to mine every possible spinoff, prequel, and expanded universe opportunity until audiences finally stop showing up.
It's the Star Wars problem, the Marvel problem, the problem that's turning prestige television into a content treadmill. Instead of creating new stories with new characters, we endlessly recycle familiar names and worlds, hoping brand recognition will substitute for actual inspiration.
Maybe Honey will surprise me. Maybe it'll justify its existence with genuinely compelling storytelling that adds depth to the Killing Eve universe. Rory Kinnear is a phenomenal actor; give him good material and he'll deliver.
But I'm skeptical. Not because the creators lack talent, but because the entire premise reeks of corporate mandate rather than creative necessity. This feels like a show that exists because accountants decided the Killing Eve brand still has value to extract, not because writers had a story they were burning to tell.
In Hollywood, nobody knows anything—except that recognizable IP is safer than original ideas. And that's how we get prequels to shows that didn't need them.
