Comedy
Star Wars: Skeleton Crew
Disney+’s ‘Skeleton Crew’ has some problems, but overall it’s a return to form, when the galaxy far, far away was relatively safe for the family.
Breaking into the super-spy biz isn’t easy. It’s not like clandestine agencies typically hold job fairs. One does not go to college and major in assassiny, taking classes like Garroting 101.
But freelance spy organizations must get their employees somewhere. And—just like most other career opportunities—it sometimes comes down to who you know.
Take Agent Honey, for example. Yes, that’s really her name, apparently. She was once just another struggling actress in Bombay, trying to pay the rent. The next, she’s neck deep in espionage, learning how to cajole and threaten, shoot and stab on the fly.
And when her daughter is born, things get really challenging.
That daughter’s name is Diana, by the way—which should sound familiar to fans of Prime Video’s Citadel, the spy show that spawned this sequel. Honey Bunny serves as a very early origin story for the glamorous superspy. But it’s far more about how the gig became, in essence, the family business.
The show takes place on two basic timelines. The first, in 1992, shows how Honey was drawn into espionage.
First, she was desperate. She really wanted to make it big in Bombay’s thriving cinematic scene. But alas, no one would hire her without conducting a personal interview on the casting couch (wink wink), and that was an interview that Honey would never grant. After months without work, her landlord kicked her out—and either Honey would have to live on the streets or find a real job.
Enter a long-time friend, full-time stuntman and a part-time spy named Bunny.
Don’t get mad at me. I didn’t pick the names.
Anyway, Bunny—who can fight, shoot and drive motorcycles against traffic with the best of them—convinces Honey to take part in a one-time operation. It’ll provide her with enough money to pay her back rent, at least. And while the operation doesn’t go quite as it should, Honey discovers that she’s found her career. Soon, Bunny’s teaching Honey everything he knows about the spy business.
By the time we hit the second timeline, in 2000, Honey is a skilled operative, a willing assassin and mother to Nadia, who’s now about 7 or 8 years old. But being a single mom is hard, no matter what you do for a living. Balancing the demands of motherhood and murder? Yeah, that can be especially difficult. Plenty of people want Honey dead. And if they discover she has a child? Well, that’s a nice leverage point right there.
Indeed, someone uncovers that leverage point. And Honey realizes that to keep her daughter safe, she’ll need to call for help. So she calls Bunny—Honey’s now-estranged lover and the girl’s unsuspecting father.
“Everyone’s dying or getting killed!” Nadia says in one episode. “I’m still a kid, you know!”
Nadia knows—perhaps better than the show itself—that Citadel: Honey Bunny is not great family viewing.
Despite the original Citadel’s so-so quality and sky-high cost (Amazon reportedly spent $300 million on the first season alone), Prime Video seems to have put all its global television chips on the Citadel franchise. Citadel: Diana, released just a month ago, is an Italian series that takes place in Milan. Citadel: Honey Bunny hops east a few time zones to India—leaning into the country’s own cinematic high-gloss, high-energy, nigh-unto-improbable heritage. Most of the dialogue is in Hindi (though it occasionally toggles into English), and its premiere drew many a Bollywood star to the show’s Mumbai premiere.
But while Citadel: Honey Bunny’s international flavor may come with its own Indian tang, the substance—or lack thereof—is much the same.
The biggest issue is really the violence. There’s plenty of it: We see small splashes of blood when someone’s shot, and we hear bones break with a sickening crunch. And with each episode, the body count can get pretty high. But it also comes with its share of steamy scenes, too. In the world of Citadel, the main prerequisite for assassins is that they look killer (while killing) in eveningwear—and while there is no explicit nudity, the show isn’t shy about flashing some skin.
All of that content alone could conceivably land in a PG-13 movie. But the language here—including plenty of f- and s-worlds—would push this show into R-rated territory.
Diana’s right. Citadel: Honey Bunny, despite the cutesy name, isn’t for kids.
(Editor’s Note: Plugged In is rarely able to watch every episode of a given series for review. As such, there’s always a chance that you might see a problem that we didn’t. If you notice content that you feel should be included in our review, send us an email at [email protected], or contact us via Facebook or Instagram, and be sure to let us know the episode number, title and season so that we can check it out. )
In 1992, a would-be actress struggles to earn money to pay her rent. A friend of hers—a popular (and employed) movie stuntman named Bunny—invites her to take part in a side hustle of his. All she has to do is get close to a notorious arms dealer, steal a piece of mysterious technology and get out. In 2000, Honey—now an experienced assassin herself—drops her daughter off at school, just as she always does. But alas, Honey’s kidnapped before she can pick her daughter up.
In that 1992 timeline, Honey is propositioned by a film director: “Just remind yourself that you will do whatever it takes to get this role,” he says. She knees him in the groin. Later, when Bunny offers Honey that side-hustle job, she at first thinks that Bunny wants her to sleep with someone. She does have to get quite close to her mark: She flirts with him in a bar (mentioning that she’s had several affairs and believes that sex should be a matter of desire, not love), then goes up to his room.
A woman’s top is ripped open (and we see her undergarments beneath). Outfits can expose skin and cleavage. During Honey’s partial seduction of her mark, her coworkers talk about how productive the “sexy girl performance” is. A man takes a woman to bed; we see him leave the bed the next morning while she’s still in it, sleeping—her bare back facing the camera. Someone jokes that a tech expert is going to have sex with an especially impressive gadget.
A woman gets tackled, slapped and otherwise roughed up by a man. A fight involves people getting shot, stabbed and having their bones broken. A chaotic motorcycle/car chase involves people getting shot inside and off of their vehicles. Motorcycles fly and crash, sometimes nearly taking out other vehicles. A woman is thwacked in the head and, while unconscious, thrown in the back of a car. A man is shot, point-blank, in the forehead. Two men are killed in a moving car; the killer jumps out, and the car careens off a cliff.
A man drinks on stage while playing with a band. A guy buys a round of drinks for himself and a prospective lady friend. The woman orders a vodka martini. We hear (or read in the English subtitles) the f-word 10 times, the s-word twice and several other profanities, including “a–,” “b–ch,” “b–tard” and one misuse of God’s name.
Paul Asay has been part of the Plugged In staff since 2007, watching and reviewing roughly 15 quintillion movies and television shows. He’s written for a number of other publications, too, including Time, The Washington Post and Christianity Today. The author of several books, Paul loves to find spirituality in unexpected places, including popular entertainment, and he loves all things superhero. His vices include James Bond films, Mountain Dew and terrible B-grade movies. He’s married, has two children and a neurotic dog, runs marathons on occasion and hopes to someday own his own tuxedo. Feel free to follow him on Twitter @AsayPaul.
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