The espionage term “Ponies,” explains the title card to the Peacock spy drama of the same name, derives from the acronym for “persons of no interest.” In the winter of 1977, that’s exactly who Bea (Emilia Clarke) and Twila (Haley Lu Richardson) are: Americans in Moscow by virtue of their husbands’ jobs with the CIA, the women are plus-one invitees to the heart of the Cold War. But when said husbands die in a mysterious plane crash, Bea and Twila enter the arena themselves in search of answers and, whether or not they’re aware of it, a sense of purpose.
The idea that women won’t attract Soviet suspicion because they’re overlooked and underestimated, as bureau chief Dane (Adrian Lester) argues to his superiors as a rationale for taking them on, is both simplistic and swiftly belied by the show’s subsequent events. (Without spoiling: the KGB has no qualms about deploying the fairer sex for its own ends, so why would they assume their opponents would not?) But as a pretext for zippy capers and a dual character study that slowly acquires emotional depth, the premise of “Ponies” works just fine.
“Ponies” is the first leading TV role for Clarke, also an executive producer, since the end of “Game of Thrones” over half a decade ago. Creators Susanna Fogel and David Iserson, the writing partners behind 2018 feature “The Spy Who Dumped Me,” reportedly offered the actor her choice of the two protagonists, and one can see what drew her to Bea. The daughter of a Belarussian Holocaust survivor who escaped to New England, Bea’s facility with the Russian language makes her a prime candidate for undercover work — and gives Clarke quite the challenge to prove her range extends far beyond Daenerys Targaryen. (Along with “Heated Rivalry,” it’s been quite the few months for performers flexing their Slavic dialogue skills.)
Clarke doesn’t really scan as a first-generation Ashkenazi American to those of us with family who meet the same description, but as a rule-following Wellesley grad, she fits the goodie-two-shoes vibe to a tee. Bea was patiently waiting her turn to put career first while her college sweetheart Chris (Louis Boyer) took a glamorous, high-stakes job half a world away from home. Chris’ death means bookish, polite Bea gets to step up to the plate quicker, and in a much different manner, than she thought. Her ability to blend in gets Bea sent into some incredibly high-stakes situations: liaising with Chris’ erstwhile asset Sasha (Petro Ninovskyi), a technologist with some personal motives for leaking trade secrets to the Americans, and flirting with KGB agent Andrei (Artjom Gilz), who proves implausibly easy to deceive given his day job.
This setup lends itself to plenty of comedy as Bea’s inexperience leads to stumbling and rookie mistakes. (One hasty escape route sends her straight into a dumpster.) But it also leads Bea to uncover the resolve she inherited from her grandmother Manya (the always excellent Harriet Walter), who bears a telltale tattoo from her time in the camps, and start to question the domestic idyll she shared with Chris. Both changes are facilitated by her budding friendship with Twila, who she initially bonds with when Twila teaches her how to strike a hard bargain at the outdoor black market. Twila’s preferred, successful strategy involves a lot of F-bombs.
Richardson has previously played young women adrift in projects like “The White Lotus,” “Support the Girls” and “Columbus,” the first her highest-profile role to date. Brash, combative Twila is more outwardly confident than these prior parts, though it’s mostly a front she learned to put up over a rough childhood in Indiana, leaving her adult self resourceful but prickly. (“You have good instincts for field work,” a new mentor tells her. “Problem is, nobody likes you.”) Where Bea loved Chris and reluctantly signs on with the CIA to avenge him, Twila’s marriage to Tom (John Macmillan) was hasty and ultimately unhappy. Twila got hitched to get the hell out of Dodge, and she stays in Moscow because there’s not much to return to back home.
Any actual intelligence work done in “Ponies” is in service to these women and their burgeoning friendship. This makes it easier to handwave oversights like multiple characters meant to be passing as Russian walking around Moscow loudly speaking English; we’re here to have fun and watch our heroines come into their own, not show off Le Carré-level expertise in tradecraft. Moral ambiguity is introduced later on, but this also isn’t “The Americans,” with its rigorous interrogation of ideology and what motivates both sides of the communist-capitalist tug of war. The platonic chemistry between Clarke and Richardson is the glue that binds the whole enterprise together.
After all, “Ponies” was filmed in Budapest, never giving the transportive sense we’re truly going behind the Iron Curtain. The soundtrack is big on Fleetwood Mac and Boney M, the wardrobe on shag coats and other shorthand that spells out “it’s the ‘70s!” in flashing lights. But the backdrop to Bea and Twila’s adventures is just that: a backdrop. As the women work through their grief and start to get their sea legs, the plot starts to fall into place. A cliffhanger ending makes clear “Ponies” intends to have a Season 2 if Peacock will let it. Considering the eight episodes’s upward trajectory, I’d be more than willing to take the bet on one.
All episodes of “Ponies” Season 1 are now streaming on Peacock.
