Crime
Unconditional
Language, violence and intense thematic elements might make Apple TV’s ‘Unconditional’ a show you watch under no conditions.
We all have days we’d like to forget. But a whole career?
Admittedly, most of us are not international spies. When you’re a spy, you probably do plenty of things you’d rather forget.
Perhaps Kyle Conroy was lucky. The guy just woke up one morning eight years ago in a hospital with plenty of injuries and not a single memory of how he got them. So Kyle did the only thing someone can do in such a predicament: He started over. He got married. He had a kid. And everything was fine. Just fine.
Until he reacquainted himself with Nadia—his former partner and, um, ex-lover. And Bernard Orlick, his brilliant one-time boss. And Mason Kane, Kyle’s previous self. Now Kyle’s remembering some of his past deeds, past relationships and past sins. And, well, let’s just say that, as of Season 2, things are getting a wee bit awkward.
Mason (aka Kyle), Nadia and Bernard all once worked for the Citadel, a spy agency untethered to any country that instead worked to keep the globe a wee bit safer. But that band of secretive do-gooders was offset by an outfit called Manticore—a nefarious underworld agency run by the eight richest families in the world. It thrives on global instability that, in turn, makes those rich families richer.
Alas, Manticore infiltrated Citadel and brought it down with a literal bang. Mason and Nadia were on a mission together when everything went wrong. And as part of Citadel protocol, their brains were wiped and rebooted.
But the same technology that wiped out those memories can also be used to create programmable assassins. And that’s why Manticore kidnapped Bernard (the creator of said technology) and shipped him off to Paolo Braga—a young, rich supervillain who, as Season 2 opens, would just love to assassinate the Russian president. Bernard’s technology sure could come in handy for that endeavor.
Bernard, with an assist from a roguish rogue CIA agent James Hutch, escaped Paolo’s nefarious clutches. But to stop Paolo for good, Bernard decides to get the band back together—along with a couple of extra bass players for good measure.
Nadia’s a given. Hutch insists on joining, too—along with his, um, “friend,” Celine. And Bernard insists that Mason join the team, too, which is a bit of an awkward inclusion.
Remember how Citadel was burned to the ground by Manticore? Turns out, it was all Mason’s fault. Oh, and the head of Manticore—Dahlia Archer—is Mason’s mother.
Realism—or at least what might pass for it—was in vogue for spy-based entertainment in the early part of the 21st century. Jason Bourne skipped the glittering casinos and instead did his work in gritty backstreets. The James Bond franchise took the hint and grounded Daniel Craig’s 007 a bit. No more invisible cars for him, just realistically nifty gadgets and a lot of grim death. FX’s The Americans was about as glamorous as scrubbing the bathtub.
Citadel wants to put the glamour back in garroting, the fun back in fatalities. This show pairs its insidious secrets with shimmering set pieces, where model-worthy assassins make killing look positively effervescent. The evildoers are deliciously dastardly, and our heroes always have a clever quip at the ready.
But you know how it is with international espionage: The eveningwear is all well and good, but eventually, things get messy.
Nadia and Mason end more lives than a bug zapper. Gore spatters on walls; bones rend the air with their brittle snaps. If Mason and Nadia were interior decorators, they’d eschew shabby chic for early oubliette. And the bad guys, as you can imagine, are significantly worse. They engage in so much torture and murder that one imagines they have a recurring order for thumbscrews on Amazon. They treat life with less care than they’d show for broken eggshells.
And, of course, we can’t lose sight of Citadel’s inherent sensuality. The show wants to sell itself as a sexy spy show, and even in the trailers we see plenty of skin.
Language is predictably R-rated, with the f- and s-word peppering plenty of conversations.
And yet, in spite of all the blood and skin and sky-high profanity counts, Prime Video decided to rate this show TV-14—the equivalent of a PG-13 rating. Makes you wonder whether anyone at Amazon has actually watched the show.
Citadel is stylish, silly and ever so salacious. And even as its spies seek to remember their pasts, the content may leave conscientious viewers wishing they could forget.
(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 letters@pluggedin.com, 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.)
Villainous rich guy Paolo Bruno is holding Bernard at his French estate so that Bernard can create a brain implant that’ll turn people into “programmable assassins.” If he fails to do so, Paolo says, he’ll kill Bernard’s family. Bernard successfully designs such a chip, but it proves to be a bit buggy. And when Paolo learns that the Russian president (his intended target) will be attending an important summit soon, he tells Bernard to perfect the chip in 10 days … or else. Meanwhile, an assassin attacks Nadia and her young daughter in Berlin. And in Sweden, Mason/Kyle promises his wife that he’s still the nice guy she married—even as memories of his days as a killer continue to burble up in his brain.
Bernard’s chip forces a man to kill his three brothers. The newly minted killer falls to his knees and weeps in horror. Paolo, displeased with this show of emotion, then kills the guy with a bullet to the head. (After, he cuts into the man’s skull, off camera, to remove Bernard’s chip, which he had almost unintentionally destroyed.)
Dozens of other people get killed or injured in the episode. The deaths are, ironically, less jarring than the injuries, with perhaps a score of faceless henchmen getting shot and killed. (A few of those deaths, though, do come with spurts of blood.) A spy shoves a man’s face into a glass, breaking the glass and seriously bloodying the guy’s face. Nadia battles her would-be assassin, dodging bullets, hits and kicks galore (not to mention a couple of explosives, too). Nadia eventually ties a fire hose around the other woman’s neck and kicks her out of a high-rise window, apparently hanging her. (But shortly thereafter, we see that the hose has been cut and the assassin has escaped.) The shard from a plastic spoon skewers someone’s wrist: The victim’s forearm gets broken a split second later.
Arms get broken. People get stabbed. Grenades blow up the interior of a mansion and destroy a car. A couple of people get hit with a motorcycle helmet. We hear references to violent acts, as well as violent threats.
Paulo and his lover have sex: We see the exposed flanks of both characters, though nothing critical is seen. Paulo also does some abdominal exercises while shirtless. Female characters wear cleavage-revealing garb. Bernard and Hutch argue about whether Hutch has a romantic/sexual interest in someone.
We’re taken into a posh dinner, wherein the Ortolan bunting (a small songbird) is served. (The method of its preparation sounds purposely inhumane, and the host tells his guests that people traditionally cover their faces with their napkins while eating to “hide your shame from the gods.”) People are accused of stealing oranges—an accusation that turns out to be a flat-out lie.
A man brags about taking drugs through his rectum. Hutch drinks beer while driving, claiming he wants to “stay hydrated.” (His passenger truthfully tells him that beer dehydrates the person drinking it, but Hutch doesn’t believe it.) We hear song lyrics that reference wine and being a “stoner.” Characters consume alcoholic beverages.
Characters say the f-word 35 times and the s-word nearly another 15. We also hear “a–,” “b–tard” and “p-ssed.” God’s name is misused three times (twice with the word “d–n”), and Jesus’ name is abused once.
In flashback, we see what happened to Nadia after the train melee: She dragged herself out of the water and was “rescued” by a strange man. Though given what follows, abducted is probably a more accurate description. In the present, Mason and Bernard take the mysterious case that was stolen by Manticore—and Mason learns that Nadia’s still alive.
In the flashback, a bloodied and seriously injured Nadia fashions a tourniquet around her leg before fainting. When she wakes up, she’s handcuffed to a bed as a man watches her from a chair, a shotgun in his lap. Nadia asks to go to the hospital.
“No need,” he says. I can take care of you here for as long as need be.”
“I’m not asking for me,” Nadia tells him. “I’m asking for you.” A fight ensues, involving punching, kicking, choking and stabbing with a rhino horn. Two people nearly die, and one certainly does.
In the present, Mason and Nadia fight bad people. Someone is shot in the head. Mason throws a knife at Nadia. (He wants to jog Nadia’s memories of her old assassin days, but Nadia just assumes that Mason wants to kill her.) Someone’s thwacked with a frying pan.
Someone drinks wine. Mason’s wife expresses surprise that he’s apparently a spy. “You can’t even remember to put the toilet seat down,” she says. She and Mason kiss. We hear the f-word about 15 times. We also hear an s-word and a handful of other profanities, including “a–” and “b–ch.” Jesus’ name is abused once.
We first meet Nadia and Mason on a stylish train in the Italian Alps—both working the same mission (much to Nadia’s surprise). But that mission is a red herring. In truth, Manticore has launched an all-out assault on Citadel: Agents around the world are being slaughtered, and Mason and Nadia are next. A massive fight ensues. Before part of the train crashes, Mason escapes with his life. But he remembers nothing about his past. Eight years later, after building a new life from scratch, he and his new family are kidnapped and taken to a secret lair, where an old professional peer named Bernard reintroduces himself.
The fight on the train is filled with carnage and fatalities. Two men fight in a bathroom, with one having his head forced into a toilet. A man is eventually stabbed in the leg and kicked out of the train, presumably to his death. Loads of people are shot (including one in the head). Part of a train crashes.
Elsewhere, two assassins leave a room filled with dead people (including one with a rather gory head wound). Another victim is dispatched without passion. We see healed wounds and scars on Mason’s torso. (Bernard explains that they could be gun wounds, “machete wounds, shrapnel wounds, oyster shucker wounds, the list is endless.”) Bernard drugs Mason and his family to take them away from their house. He also has tied up three thugs in his hideaway to extract information—and he ultimately shoots all three in the head.
Threats of torture are issued. A couple of people nearly drown. We hear that nearly 100 people were killed in a bombing. We see brief snippets of apparent assassinations.
Nadia is dressed in a revealing evening gown on the train, and she flirts with her mark. (She puts on red lipstick, and Bernard says through an earpiece that “old, pervy men” like red lips. Nadia quips that he would know.) Mason (who thinks he’s Kyle) gets cozy with his wife, prepping for a sensual evening. (His wife tells him that she’s had a “half a glass of wine.”) People kiss. We learn that Bernard and his wife divorced, and she’s now with another woman. (All three apparently work together.)
There’s a crude reference to the male anatomy. We hear seven f-words and two s-words. God’s and Jesus’ name are both abused once.
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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