Emilia Fox, the Silent Witness siren whose steely gaze has solved countless corpses, trades morgue mystery for Mediterranean mayhem in BBC’s Signora Volpe, a three-part (now six with Season 2) Acorn TV gem that’s slithered onto BritBox with a 92% Rotten Tomatoes rapture and 4.2 million UK views since its 2022 debut. Fox stars as Sylvia Fox (Signora Volpe to locals), a disillusioned ex-MI6 operative who bolts from London’s spy labyrinth for her niece’s Umbrian wedding, only to find the groom vanished and the village veiled in venomous secrets. “It’s The Madame Blanc Mysteries with a Night Manager edge—cozy crime laced with lethal lies,” Fox teases to Radio Times, her Sylvia a “sun-drenched sleuth” whose suppressed Glock and global grit unpick poison pens, pilfered pearls, and passionate perjuries amid olive groves and ochre villas. Created by Rachel Cuperman and Sally Griffiths (Midsomer Murders scribes), the series savors Season 1’s 2022 launch (Acorn TV, repeated U&Drama April 2025) and Season 2’s July 29, 2024, binge (Acorn/BBC America), blending “brutal” betrayals with breathtaking backdrops that have fans frothing: “Twistier than Broadchurch, sexier than Poldark!”
The intrigue’s intoxicating: Episode 1’s “The Quick and the Dead” sees Sylvia (Fox, 50 and luminous) arriving for the nuptials only to stumble into a groom-gone-groveling case, her spy savvy summoning suppressed skills to sift suspects—from a jilted bride to a jealous jealous jeweler—in a hamlet where every hairpin turn hides a homicide hint. Season 2’s “A Debt of Honor” amps the espionage: A community leader’s corpse cracks open blackmail black holes and ancient amours, Sylvia’s “finely tuned” intuition (honed by “hairsbreadth hunches”) decoding dye-jobs for deceit amid the Avon’s swan-swum banks. Directors like Will Sinclair (Vera, eps 1-3) and Daniel O’Hara (Stay Close, eps 4-6) wield 70s flair—bell-bottoms, beehives, brass scores—like a straight razor, carving quaint charm into chilling crevices: Fogged windows fogging flings, clipper buzzes buzzing alibis. Co-stars clip in: Giovanni Cefai’s dashing Detective Inspector Perotti as Sylvia’s sparring suitor, Tara Fitzgerald’s sister Isabel as a scheming sibling, Matteo Carmineo as the missing groom’s mate—each a foil to Fox’s fabulous flair.
Plot propulsion? Paranoia in perms: What kicks off as a “simple” salon slaying spirals into a syndicate of sins—embezzlement at the Women’s Institute, a vicar’s vice, mid-season makeover murders mirroring Lily’s “buried past.” Twists tangle like tangles: A “jealous curl” suspect flips to frame-up, a “highlights horror” hides a heist. Cartwright’s quill quivers with quips—”Darling, your roots are showing – and so’s your motive!”—but the “bristling” brutality bites: Bodies in basins, betrayals in blow-dries. The Guardian gushes “joyfully retro yet chilling,” Radio Times the “Marlow with menace,” while skeptics sniff “soapy snips.” The 1-in-2 gossip-to-gore ratio hooks, BARB metrics outgunning Sister Boniface.
This isn’t tea-time tripe; it’s a trim of terror, where village veneers veil vices that vex. Sylvia’s intuition? Incisive. The salon’s secrets? Scintillatingly sinister. Season 3? Teased for 2026, with “sharper shears.” Binge it; the betrayals bristle, the murders mesmerize. Fox’s Volpe? No mere stylist—she’s a scissor-wielding siren, unearthing unrest in a revelation that’s retro-ravishing. Trust us: This obsession? Overdue.
