Tom Hardy’s grunting, hilarious ‘Taboo’ reaches its end… For now

The difference between a good “Batman” story and a great one is that the good story gives us all the power fantasies and struggles of our hero — while the great one gives us more than that.

You can always tell which tales will stand the test of time, and which are merely remixes of tropes and id, destined to flow away on the same river that they washed up from, by a few key factors: The other characters are interesting and whole, not just pieces of the hero to fight or sleep with; the women are human beings, rather than possessions; the trappings and action hold a strong secondary position, right behind identifiable questions of character and morality.

The difference between a good “Batman” story and a great one is that, like any of its kind, the great story tells us who we are, while the merely good only… Repeats back to us what we already know about Batman.

RELATED: Misogyny, incest, cannibalism… oh my! ‘Taboo’ is laying it on thick

If you took the top-level power fantasy and edgy grimness of the most basic reading of Batman, gave him a steampunk makeover and a neverending host of abilities, insights, powers, skills, strengths, impressive moments and setpieces, you would have “Taboo”: A show that never quite got over its bizarre disinterest in the women it threw around like ragdolls, its action-fantasy pleasure-center focus on being unstoppable and dark and cool, and never found its way toward telling a story. A last-minute reveal that this entire series had taken place in the mind of a child suffering from scarlet fever, it would have made more sense: These dreams of violence, mysticism and dirty-naughty-shame is the stuff we live on, as children, telling ourselves the worst stories imaginable so that we can face the day’s mundane terrors.

If there’s comfort to be found in having trudged through all eight episodes of “Taboo,” it’s knowing that the tale is over. And while if it were up to us, sweet Tom Hardy and his father who is named Chips would never be allowed to write another TV show. The diminishing returns of shock and the grotesque mean that at the end of the day, what we are left with is a blur, heavy with grunts instead words, dark with cannibalism, violence, and incest — of course, incest, always — and a almost lovable desperation to impress.

As its scenes of unrelenting edginess play out, you can actually picture the Hardy boys sitting at their laptops, topping off a bottle of good whiskey, giddy with excitement that their savage antihero story might be a masterpiece… Neither realizing that aside from Hardy’s role as James Keziah Delaney, not one other character is fully fleshed out, that big themes highlighted in the beginning can not be tossed aside midseason without viewers noticing — and that for audiences to feel anything, we have to care. Specifically, a reason to care about anyone or anything — neither of which ever quite happens, because “Taboo” is not about us: It’s about the man Tom Hardy wants to be, and about the man who raised him this way, and what they imagine they might do if there were no taboos at all.

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“Taboo” is the James Keziah Delaney show, no more and no less.  Hardy’s an enigmatic performer, an almost superheroic caricature of himself marching around 19th century London in a ridiculously large top hat, sometimes eating the flesh of his enemies. But if that’s not enough to entertain you, this isn’t the series for you. And while it may well be renewed, for reasons that are hard to pin down, the finale did quite a good job of tying up many loose ends… Though completely forgetting other threads existed.

What happened to all the magic? The constant mysterious symbolism? We still have no idea what the tattoos on Delaney’s back mean, or the intentions of his chanting incantations. Were they spells? A type of prayer?  Are we meant to hear him say, “I was talking to ravens” and think, Oh! Okay, that makes sense. Because it doesn’t. It explains nothing. If a man said that to you on the street you would think, “This person needs me to believe that he is a very interesting man — but he is going about it in a confusing way.” That’s not a television show, that’s an awkward conversation you’d just as soon forget.

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The Hardy boys also forgot to include a believable antagonist, a villain that actually proved a threat to Delaney’s mission. James could apparently see the future, talk to dead people, enter his half-sister Zilpha’s (Oona Chaplin) bedroom while she slept and pleasure her using only his mind.

Why he even allowed himself to be arrested and tortured for so long, when he already had the ammo ready to take down his foes at both the East Company and in Parliament, makes no sense. He was already ten steps ahead, prepared for everything and everyone who might put a hitch in his escape plan, every boy’s dream of adulthood — and not only that, but a flood of characters, most of whom were so insignificant you’d be hard pressed to remember more than a name or two, risk their lives to follow this dark master towards the new world.

It’s hard to feel strongly when Helga (Franka Potente) dies, or even react when Zilpha commits suicide — the feeling wasn’t anguish, but frustration: Her character was a female prop, forced to endure violent sex partners and suffer cringeworthy physical and emotional abuse. Is there an ending that could have been satisfying?

Zilpha’s jump into the Thames at the end renders her presence ultimately pretty hollow. Dumbarton (Michael Kelley) could’ve been an interesting antagonist, but Delaney somehow figures out that he’s “the leak,” a double agent that’s been working as a spy for EIC the entire time, with nearly zero information to go on. Was he able to read Dumbarton’s mind? It’s not explained how Delaney comes to the game-changing conclusion that this American spy isn’t who he says, and before you know it Delaney’s dipped Dumbarton’s head in blue dye and strung his body up to dry, like an exotic new fabric ready for sale.

Sir Stuart Strange (Jonathon Pryce) gets blown up, while Brace (David Hayman) is left in London for his own good. Delaney makes sure to pay his thanks to George Chichester (Lucien Msamati) — a devastatingly underused character, and one of the few we wished to see more of. But all of these final transactions and checkmates just lead us back: Why would Delaney go through the business of being held prisoner at all, when he could’ve simply gotten in his ship and safely set sail for America days before? This series could have, and should have, been six episodes max. The point was made in the first hour, and confirmed in the last: Tom Hardy is a big boy! You should treat him with respect!

But, wait! One last surprise: They’re not sailing to America. With a injured Cholmondeley (Tom Hollander), a wounded Lorna Bowe (Jessie Buckley), son Robert, and his skeleton crew of misfits, Delaney announces they are actually setting sail for Ponta Delgada in Azores. Why? Because he’s looking for a man named Colonnade, an American spy  briefly mentioned in the beginning episodes, and never brought up again. We have no idea who this man is — and as the series comes to a ceremoniously final close, British flag tugged down, and replaced with the waving American stars and stripes, we can’t imagine wanting to find out.

Stylish and strange, overworked and underplotted, “Taboo” is ultimately the vanity project it seemed to be all along: A sort of “Axe Cop” view into the mind of Tom Hardy, whose fantasies of magical masculine competence are so expansive they filled a television show. For those who watched hoping to get a glimpse inside the mind of this great actor and fascinating person, we can’t imagine the result being too satisfying — but then again, we like Hardy just as he is.

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