Netflix has unleashed Death by Lightning, a breathtaking six-part miniseries that has propelled Matthew Macfadyen and Michael Shannon into the spotlight for their tour de force performances, earning critics’ unanimous acclaim as “extraordinary,” “heart-stopping,” and Macfadyen’s “most powerful” role since Succession‘s Tom Wambsgans. Premiering on November 15, 2025, the drama—directed by Reed Morano (The Handmaid’s Tale) and adapted from the 2023 novel by Candice Fox—unfolds across the turbulent 1920s and ’30s American Midwest, weaving a tapestry of betrayal, ambition, and impossible choices that grips viewers with its sweeping scope and unflinching humanity, a narrative so visceral it lingers like the crackle of a storm on the horizon long after the final credits fade to black.
At its core, Death by Lightning follows Elias Thorne (Macfadyen), a ruthless Midwestern tycoon whose iron-fisted empire of railroads and coal mines masks a labyrinth of personal demons and moral compromises, as he navigates a web of corporate espionage, political machinations, and familial fractures that threaten to consume him and his kin in an era of rampant industrialization and fragile alliances. Macfadyen’s Elias is a revelation, his trademark restraint fracturing into quiet savagery that recalls Succession‘s corporate cruelty but amplified by historical grit, his eyes—cold as a winter gale—betraying the cost of every deal sealed in smoke-filled backrooms and every secret buried in family vaults, a performance so nuanced it earned The Guardian‘s five-star review as “a sweeping storm of a man, sweeping us into his downfall.”
Opposite him looms Shannon’s Harlan Crowe, a enigmatic labor organizer whose revolutionary fervor clashes with Elias’s unyielding capitalism in a collision that sparks the series’ central fire, their ideological duel a theater of verbal parries and moral ambushes that crackle with the tension of two titans locked in a dance to the death, Shannon’s towering presence evoking Boardwalk Empire‘s brooding menace while infusing Crowe with a tragic nobility that humanizes the era’s class wars. The ensemble elevates the stakes: Thandiwe Newton as Elias’s estranged sister, a suffragette turned whistleblower whose secrets ignite the plot’s powder keg; and rising star Ayo Edebiri as a young journalist whose dogged pursuit of truth fractures the tycoon’s facade, her scenes with Macfadyen a blistering ballet of intellect and intimidation that underscores the series’ theme of power’s corrosive kiss.
Morano’s direction, with its sepia-toned cinematography that bathes the Midwest’s vast prairies in a golden haze of nostalgia laced with dread, crafts a visual symphony that sweeps from opulent boardrooms to ramshackle tent revivals, each frame a canvas of ambition’s double-edged blade, while the score by Alexandre Desplat weaves dissonant strings and haunting folk motifs that mirror the characters’ unraveling psyches. Critics are enraptured: Variety deems it “a sweeping epic of human frailty,” praising Macfadyen’s “gripping” transformation, while The New York Times calls it “heart-stopping,” noting Shannon’s “incredibly moving” depth. Early viewers echo the hype, with 4.2 million #DeathByLightning posts raving “Macfadyen’s best since Succession—unmissable!”
In an age of fragmented narratives, Death by Lightning restores faith in the sweep of storytelling, a thunderous reminder that ambition’s arc bends not toward glory but the grave it digs along the way. As Elias whispers in the finale, “Power’s not a crown—it’s a noose,” the series doesn’t just entertain—it endures, a sweeping storm that sweeps us into its wake, forever altered.
