Intruders Review: BBC America’s Paranormal Thriller Trips Over Its Own Shadows

For a show born from a promising pedigree, Intruders arrives with more baggage than brilliance. Created by Glen Morgan, best known for his work on The X-Files, and adapted from Michael Marshall Smith’s novel of the same name (the book included a “the” in its title), the series seemed destined to deliver chilling twists and cerebral horror. What viewers get instead is a muddled, overblown supernatural drama that takes two long episodes to explain itself — and even then, it hardly feels worth the wait.

A Tangle Without a Thread

At the heart of Intruders is Jack Whelan, played by John Simm, who shone in the far superior UK version of Life on Mars. Jack is a former Los Angeles cop turned novelist whose quiet life in the Pacific Northwest crumbles when his wife, Amy (Mira Sorvino), mysteriously disappears after leaving for work. What should be a straightforward mystery of love and loss quickly spirals into a labyrinth of disconnected scenes, awkward time jumps, and brooding monologues that try too hard to be profound.

Meanwhile, another storyline unfolds with Richard Shepherd, a shadowy figure in black portrayed by James Frain (The Tudors). Shepherd drifts across the Pacific Northwest leaving bodies in his wake, including the wife and teenage son of a scientist named Bob Anderson. His motives are opaque, his menace unquestionable, but his story feels like it’s spliced into the show from an entirely different series.

Enter Madison, Exit Logic

The most bizarre subplot belongs to Madison (Millie Brown), a 9-year-old who becomes entangled with Shepherd. On the eve of her birthday — a number treated with some mystical weight — Shepherd hunts her down, only for Madison to persuade him not to kill her. Moments later, she drowns her pet cat and flees from home. The scene is unsettling, yes, but not in the way the creators likely intended. When the police later question her mother, not one person mentions the drowned cat. It’s as if the show itself can’t be bothered to follow through on its own details.

Brown is a capable young actress, but the dialogue given to her — and indeed, to much of the cast — would flatten even a veteran like Judi Dench. Every line feels written with a self-conscious desire to sound mysterious, when in reality it lands as hollow and contrived.

The Qui Reverti

By the second episode, Jack’s desperate search for Amy provides at least a faint narrative lifeline. Slowly, the pieces come together: all of the bizarre, disjointed events connect to the Qui Reverti, a secret society obsessed with immortality. These members recycle themselves by inhabiting the bodies of the living, effectively cheating death.

On paper, the concept is rich with potential, echoing the eerie paranoia of French import The Returned. On screen, however, the execution is muddled. The mythology is dumped in heavy-handed chunks, the pacing drags, and the dialogue oscillates between pompous and phony. By the time viewers begin to grasp the premise, patience has already worn thin.

Respectable Cast, Wasted Potential

It’s a shame, because Intruders managed to assemble a cast worthy of something better. John Simm does what he can with Jack, grounding the character in desperation and grit. Mira Sorvino, an Oscar winner for Mighty Aphrodite, is underused, her character more plot device than person. James Frain, so effective as cold villains in past roles, chews through the menace but remains shackled by weak writing.

Even the child actress Millie Brown, who would later gain fame in Stranger Things, is given little to do beyond staring eerily and spouting lines no 9-year-old would ever say.

Overwrought Writing, Overbearing Music

If the writing weren’t already heavy-handed enough, the score pounds away as though it’s competing for the audience’s attention. Composed by Bear McCreary (The Walking Dead), the music is lush but suffocating. Instead of subtly building tension, it overwhelms scenes, often drowning out the dialogue it’s supposed to underscore. It’s atmospheric, yes, but in the way a thunderstorm drowns conversation at a dinner party.

The show also leans into every cliché of the genre: scenes opening in pitch darkness, slow pans across creaky hallways, and ominous whispers layered under swelling strings. Where The X-Files once managed to balance mystery with momentum, Intruders stumbles under the weight of its own affectations.

Final Verdict

It’s tempting to hope that Intruders might eventually find its footing — that somewhere amid the shadows and portentous monologues, a compelling story will emerge. But early evidence suggests otherwise. Instead of intrigue, the show delivers confusion. Instead of suspense, it offers melodrama. And instead of characters to care about, it gives us archetypes weighed down by inane dialogue.

With a concept rooted in immortality and possession, Intruders could have been a haunting exploration of identity and fear. Instead, it feels like an exercise in atmospheric futility — all fog, no fire.

For fans of supernatural thrillers, the Pacific Northwest offers plenty of better alternatives. As for Intruders, it’s best left lurking in the shadows.