Small Prophets: Mackenzie Crook’s gentle, magical comedy finds wonder in the ordinary
Small Prophets, the new six-part comedy from Mackenzie Crook, opened to warm critical praise and has been described as a delicate, quietly brilliant successor to his earlier work. Equal parts melancholy and magic, the series follows a south Manchester everyman whose attempt to solve a personal mystery unleashes a small, strange miracle.
A whimsical, melancholy premise
The show centres on Michael Sleep (Pearce Quigley), a lank-haired, long-bearded man stuck in a Seven Years’ routine after his girlfriend Clea disappeared on Christmas Eve. Michael’s life is lit by small rituals — a battered Ford Capri, a repetitive visit to his father in a nursing home, a job on the shop floor of a DIY superstore — until an unlikely thread of alchemy appears.
Prompted by his father’s tip-off, Michael attempts an ancient recipe that produces homunculi: tiny, folkloric creatures kept in jars that can answer questions and point toward the future. It’s a premise that might have tipped into twee fantasy, but Crook treads a careful line, letting the series be moved forward by human feeling rather than spectacle. Wonder is always understated here, emerging from the cracks of suburban life rather than blaring from a supernatural billboard.
Cast, chemistry and tone
Crook’s casting choices are central to Small Prophets’ success. Pearce Quigley, who previously appeared in Crook’s earlier series, is given a full-ledger turn as Michael, balancing fragility and mischief with a gentle comic timing. Lauren Patel is a revelation as Kacey, Michael’s younger colleague and unlikely conspirator; their platonic, tender friendship is one of the show’s most affecting threads.
Sir Michael Palin appears as Brian, Michael’s eccentric father, bringing a seasoned warmth and a twinkle that elevates quiet scenes into poignant moments. Palin has described the series as a work of “humour and magic” that treats characters empathetically, and his presence underscores the show’s mixture of sardonic wit and human kindness. A supporting ensemble — including a peevish neighbour, shop-floor eccentrics and a parade of small-town figures — fills the world with lived-in detail and small comic treasures.
Stylistically, Small Prophets shares a sensibility with Crook’s previous work: a devotion to slow-burn joy, patience with small characters, and an eye for the absurd in the mundane. The writing resists easy sentimentality, instead earning emotional payoffs through precise decisions in dialogue, casting and visual restraint.
Location and production: Greater Manchester as character
Filmed around Greater Manchester, the series uses real suburban settings to root its weirdness in the recognisable. Local streets, a neighbourhood pub and a retail park stand in as the cul-de-sac, shop and diner that make up Michael’s orbit. A stock-store storefront becomes the Toolbox where much of the day-to-day comedy plays out, while a cosy café doubles as the Pickles Diner where characters meet and plans are hatched.
That sense of place matters: Crook’s decision to set and shoot the series amid ordinary terraces and riversides ensures the homunculi’s arrival feels intimate rather than fantastical. The production’s modest, carefully observed visuals allow the show’s emotional core to breathe.
Small Prophets premiered Feb. 9 at 5: 00 p. m. ET and is already being discussed as a pure pleasure for viewers who appreciate quietly strange, character-driven comedy. It’s a series that trusts small moments — a joke told to a gullible customer, a marble run crafted by a dotty father, the careful nurturing of tiny creatures in jars — to build something that feels, unexpectedly, like a miracle.
