Small Prophets: Mackenzie Crook’s suburban fable turns tiny creatures into big heart
Small Prophets, the new six-part comedy from Mackenzie Crook, premiered on Feb. 9 at 5: 00 PM ET and has been met with warm early response. The series trades broad spectacle for a quietly uncanny strain of magic, following a grief-struck man who embarks on an improbable, perfectly observed quest — aided by homemade homunculi that can answer questions about the future.
A peculiar premise, delivered with humane precision
At the centre of Small Prophets is Michael Sleep (Pearce Quigley), a softly eccentric everyman living in a cluttered south Manchester cul-de-sac. His life has been frozen since his partner, Clea, vanished seven years earlier; her car was found by a bridge, but she was never found. Rather than pitching the story as bleak melodrama, Crook refocuses on the small rituals and private inventions that keep Michael afloat: the ritual drives in a battered Ford Capri, shift work on the floor of a DIY shop, and regular visits to his father in a care home.
The series takes a decisively strange turn when Michael, prompted by his father, attempts an old alchemical recipe — rain water, horse manure and a touch of improvisation — and ends up creating tiny jar-dwelling creatures. These homunculi are a device for plot and wonder: they can foretell the future and answer questions, but Crook resists easy spectacle. The result is a quiet, phantasmagorical comedy that excavates tenderness from the ordinary.
Standout performances and a very local texture
Crook’s casting anchors the show. Quigley, elevated from a supporting role in Crook’s earlier work to a tender, nuanced lead, carries Michael’s mixture of grief, mischief and stubborn optimism. Opposite him, Lauren Patel is luminous as Kacey, Michael’s young colleague and unlikely confidante; their friendship is a highlight, tender and playfully subversive. Sir Michael Palin delivers a memorable turn as Brian, Michael’s father — an eccentric with a knack for Rube Goldberg-style creations and an uncanny emotional intelligence.
The ensemble is dotted with singular comic turns: Jon Pointing as the nosy neighbour, Sophie Willan in a supporting role, and cameos that add colour and bite. Crook has also given the show a strong sense of place. Filming locations in and around Greater Manchester — from local pubs to retail parks and riverside walks — are rendered with affection, anchoring the series’ oddities in recognisable suburban detail. Everyday shop fronts and community corners become part of the storytelling fabric, making the magic feel oddly plausible.
Why viewers should tune in
Small Prophets succeeds where many whimsical shows can falter: it never lets its conceit overwhelm its characters. Crook’s eye for small human gestures — a shop-floor gag, a father’s muddled wisdom, a late-night conversation by a river — keeps the series grounded. The homunculi are never mere gimmicks; they amplify the emotional throughline, helping Michael confront absence, hope and the slow work of grief.
Those looking for big action or cynical satire will find something gentler and more exacting here: a show that prizes empathy, meticulously written moments and the kind of sly, tart humour Crook has become known for. Sir Michael Palin has described the project as one of "humour and magic, " and the phrase fits. Small Prophets fuses subtle comedy with heartfelt strangeness, offering viewers a rare modern fable that feels both comforting and quietly miraculous.
For audiences drawn to character-led storytelling and uncanny domesticity, Small Prophets is an inviting, wholly pleasurable watch — small in scale but unexpectedly large in feeling.
