I finished the final episode of The Last Kingdom last night. It was immensely satisfying, but now I have no more episodes of The Last Kingdom to watch. Destiny is all gone, I guess.
I found my way to the series via a podcast, The Rest is History, in which Dominic Sandbrook and Tom Holland discussed the history of the Viking invasions of Olde England, and Sandbrook admitted that most of his knowledge of the period came from watching The Last Kingdom. I love that podcast, and Sandbrook’s takes are invariably amusing, so I plated it up.
Gold Star to Mr Sandbrook! Adapted from Bernard Cornwell’s novels, the TV show positioned itself to ride in the slipstream of Game of Thrones, at least in its early iterations. But by the time you get two or three seasons in, it’s found its own feet and is happily slicing, dicing, kicking and punching its way to a grand old adventure.
Ostensibly the story of Utrecht, son of Utrecht, a Saxon boy orphaned and then raised by Viking berserkers, the long arc follows his hero’s journey to reclaim his birthright, the northern stronghold of Bebbanberg.
It’s got biff. It’s got raunch. It’s got pleasingly evil villains and epic battle scenes. By the time we reach the final series, it has settled into a very comfortable Saturday afternoon matinee feel. I was sorry to let it go. If you have Netflix and haven’t given this one a spin yet, you’d better get on. Word has come from the vicar that Viking longboats have been spotted off the coast of Linden Farm.
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