Jodie Whittaker, Tamara Lawrance, and Bella Ramsey star in the follow-up to Jimmy McGovern’s award-winning series.
The first season of Jimmy McGovern’s prison drama *Time* was—in my humble opinion—the best thing on television in 2021 and one of the most moving pieces of TV I have ever seen. Long after the final credits rolled, I couldn't stop thinking about Mark Cobden (played by Sean Bean), but I was also haunted by the unthinkable dilemma facing prison officer Eric McNally (Stephen Graham) and the story of young inmate Daniel (Jack McMullen).
Creator: Jimmy McGovern
Stars: Siobhan Finneran, Sean Bean, Jodie Whittaker
The series moved me in a way I simply hadn't expected from a story set in that world. I never imagined I would come to care so deeply about the fates of those men, even knowing full well the crimes they had committed—something that speaks volumes about my own prejudices and preconceived notions regarding incarcerated people.
That remains a fundamental aspect of the drama’s second season, written by McGovern in collaboration with Helen Black. He hadn't intended to revisit *Time*, but the BBC floated the idea of shifting the focus to a women's prison—a proposal McGovern found "interesting."
After some thought, he agreed to the project but wanted a female writer to work alongside him. Black—author of works such as *Life and Death in the Warehouse*, a scathing critique of the excessive pressures faced by warehouse workers—possessed exactly the qualities he was looking for.
That isn't to say men can't write female characters well, but would a male writer consider what it’s like to get your period in prison without access to sanitary products? Perhaps they would, or perhaps not.
That is precisely what happens to Orla (Jodie Whittaker) in the first episode. While looking for a solution, she stuffs pieces of toilet paper into her underwear; ...an awkward situation many women will recognize, and one of the many details—small yet crucial—that anchor *Time* in reality.
Orla’s crime? Caring for her children. This single mother of three has been sentenced to six months in prison for tampering with her electricity meter after mounting bills became unmanageable—a desperate reality facing thousands of people in the UK amidst the current cost-of-living crisis. It is infuriating to see someone with such obvious needs have her life shattered by the State, yet it happens, and McGovern and Black want us to reflect on that.
Casting Whittaker as Orla is a masterstroke; she plays a first-time offender who, upon entering prison, resembles an animal frozen in fear by headlights. Her blind panic and desperation are palpable on screen as she tries to process the sudden upheaval of her life. We watch her struggle to arrange care for her children—whom she had dropped off at school that very morning but could no longer pick up following her sentencing—while she remains behind bars. The prison visit scenes, in which Orla’s young daughter clings to her desperately, are heartbreaking and reveal the true cost of her punishment.
We also meet Kelsey (Bella Ramsey), a 19-year-old heroin addict trapped in an abusive relationship, whose addiction is "far worse than the last time" she was incarcerated. Arguably, Ramsey took on the most challenging role by portraying someone in the grip of addiction—she told *Radio Times* magazine that she once got "too" deep into character, adding, "I was starting to lose my own identity"—yet anyone who has seen her in *The Last of Us* (a very different series) knows she rises to the challenge. Kelsey is pregnant—a situation far from ideal given her dual struggles—but the way her narrative arc unfolds over the three episodes will surprise some viewers. The series constantly subverts expectations, and Kelsey, more than any other character, fosters hope against all odds; this is extraordinary in a story set in such a brutal world and is one of the reasons the first season moved me so deeply.
Then there is Abi, played by Tamara Lawrance, who reveals she is serving a life sentence for the murder of her sister-in-law. When another inmate steals her hair oil and cream, she doesn't hesitate to fly into a rage; yet, there is something about her bearing—even when she asserts her authority—that suggests this attitude does not come naturally to her.
Abi stands out from the others in several ways, starting with her background. She comes from a privileged environment far removed from the reality of the other women around her, though that did not protect her from the circumstances that led to her.
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