In the mist-shrouded moors of Scotland, where grudges fester like forgotten peat fires and betrayal bites deeper than winter gales, two titans of telly detection are forging an unholy alliance that’s got crime drama devotees drooling. Douglas Henshall—the gravel-voiced guardian of Shetland’s windswept isles, where every shadow hides a suspect—and Matthew Goode, the sharp-suited psyche-prober from Dept Q’s Copenhagen catacombs, are teaming up for a blistering cold-case cracker that’s poised to eclipse Line of Duty‘s lies and The Missing‘s melancholy. Premiering on Paramount+ in early 2026 after wrapping shoots amid Highland horrors, this six-part scorcher—The Revenge Club—adapts J.D. Pennington’s forthcoming The Othello Club, twisting a divorce support circle into a vortex of vigilante vengeance. What starts as cathartic chit-chat over chardonnay spirals into a symphony of sinister “accidents”—pranks turning poisonous, justice morphing into jihad—as the jilted plot payback on their philandering exes. “It’s sharp, stylish, and darkly funny,” gushes Paramount’s Sebastian Cardwell, but insiders whisper it’s a psychological pulverizer: “Henshall’s haunted hunches meet Goode’s forensic finesse in a feud that fractures families forever.”
Henshall, 59 and freshly freed from Jimmy Perez’s Fair Isle fetters (after eight seasons of Shetland solitude), slips into Steve—a steely survivor scarred by spousal sabotage, his quiet rage a powder keg in the group’s powder room powwows. Goode, 47 and channeling his Dept Q detective Carl Mørck’s meticulous menace (from the Danish cold-case chronicles), embodies a shadowy strategist whose Oxford polish cracks under personal vendettas, his velvet voice veiling venomous schemes. Leading the lacerated lineup: Martin Compston’s Calum, a Line of Duty hardman humbled by heartbreak; Aimée-Ffion Edwards’ Emily, Slow Horses’ sly operative turned scorned spouse; Meera Syal’s Rita, a Kumars quipster queen with a killer quill; Sharon Rooney’s Rachel, Barbie’s bubbly bombshell brewing brutality; Chaneil Kular’s Tej, Sex Education’s sly teen turned twisted tactician; and Amit Shah’s Malcolm, Happy Valley’s haunted everyman harboring homicidal hacks. Directed by a dream team (including McGovern vets from Time), the series savors Scotland’s savage splendor—lochside lairs, Edinburgh eavesdrop—scoring suspense with a Celtic cacophony of clashing pipes and pounding hearts.
The plot? A Pandora’s box of payback: Divorcées unite in therapy, trading tales of two-timed torment, until one whispers, “Why not make ’em pay?” Cue escalating escalations—slashed tires to staged slips, anonymous anthrax envelopes to “accidental” avalanches—that blur the bard between balm and butchery. One ex winds up worm food; fingers fly, fractures form, and the club’s catharsis curdles into carnage. Pennington’s prose pulses with paranoia: “Justice or jihad? The Othello ploy unravels them all.” Critics previewing pilots? Ecstatic: Radio Times raves “a revenge romp with razor-wire risks,” while Deadline dubs it “darkly delicious—Henshall and Goode’s glow-up glowers.” Filming’s frenzy (kicked off June 2025 in Glasgow’s gloom) hints at cameos from Shetland alums and Dept Q Danes, teasing a transatlantic twist.
Fans are feral: #RevengeClub frenzy floods X with 1.5 million posts, screams like “Henshall’s brooding + Goode’s guile = genre genocide!” and “Forget Broadchurch—this buries bodies in your brain!” Skeptics sniff “revenge retread” (Beef echoes, anyone?), but Gaumont/Fremantle’s global push (UK/Ireland Paramount+ exclusive) screams streamer supremacy. In a year of Shetland sign-offs and Dept Q droughts, this crossover cataclysm isn’t just electrifying—it’s existential, a mind-mangling meld of moody moors and mental mazes that redefines detection. As Steve snarls in the teaser—”Revenge isn’t served cold; it’s carved raw”—one truth thunders: these detectives don’t just crack cases; they crack souls. Mark your calendars; this Scottish scorcher will haunt your highlands long after the credits crawl.
