At a time when every entertainment-themed conversation revolves around the Right Honourable Christopher Nolan’s vision, it’s such a relief to have fun in your puny little home without having to revise an epic, research all the possible variants of IMAX screens, and book ludicrously priced tickets days in advance with excitement bordering on trepidation. Behold, a show that has just sprung on us like a gift from the gods, but, thankfully, not the Greek or geeky ones.
Ride or Die, released on Prime Video without much fanfare, at least for those of us who find ourselves stuck in Nolanland, is all the things a big-ticket buddy action-comedy TV series should be, with one IMAX-sized plus: the buddies happen to be two middle-aged women.
Hannah Waddingham, better known as Ted Lasso’s boss on the pandemic-era show that brought cheesy smiles and tears to our masked faces, has been around a while. We’ve seen her as a strict soccer mom, and one half of a lesbian couple, on Sex Education. We’ve watched her play a stereotypical Hollywood producer in The Fall Guy. We’ve seen her give a photographer an earful before the Olivier Awards she was hosting in 2024 when he asked her to “show leg”. And, more recently, we’ve seen her in the royal box at Wimbledon, like she has always belonged in the spotlight.
In Ride of Die, we’re introduced to her as a WOACA (Woman of a Certain Age)—50 or thereabouts—being offered a Patek Philippe watch as a parting gift from her employers: she could either just retire or start following the rules of the game, and that’s when you figure she’s an undercover assassin. And that she’s not going down without a fight.
The plot spins dizzyingly around her oestrogen-fuelled antics as the operative Whiptail with a traumatic past. Whiptail goes by Judith and calls herself a “forensic accountant” when she’s around civilians, whom she is determined never to harm; she only kills the bad guys. Cute. The first among civilians is her “best friend”, Debbie Claybourne, played by the self-assured Octavia Spencer, who has spent decades of her life priming her bumbling husband to run for the British PM’s office, sacrificing her law degree for his ambitions. To the world, she is the “boring, average, middle-aged woman”. (Spoiler alert: No such person exists.) Now, her husband says he wants a divorce.
The show is neatly set up for the two friends, pushed to the brink by a society that has no time for WOACA. Through eight long yet swift episodes, the two journey through European capitals dodging bullets, the Albanian mob, Interpol—and a psychopath with a Dutch accent (played with delicious glee by Sylvia Hoeks) who once thought Whiptail, her partner in crime, was her best friend. Trains are jumped off of, sinewy men had sex with, wine glugged, passports forged. At the bottom of it all is one essential question posed by Debbie to Judith: Has their friendship ever been real?
The show makes very few demands of the viewer, except to suspend our disbelief just like we would in male-centric capers. It rewards us by steadily delivering laughs and gasps—and occasionally even provoking thought. And it spends a lot of time, money and effort in doing this. We often find ourselves in James Bond territory—speedy ski and car chases, pricey art in vaults, ballrooms and golden gowns, possible love/lust interests—but the focus is so firmly on the two women’s friendship that even the absurd plot twists and action sequences somehow find firm emotional ground when really needed. (Note to self: Watch Thelma & Louise.)
Waddingham employs a persona for her character that is both dramatic and authentic. She has the flashier role of the two leads, but she infuses it with a depth and inwardness that comes from a lifetime of being an actor waiting for her moment. This, unequivocally, is it.
Judith/Whiptail may be a hardened female criminal of the kind we have often seen, but she makes the space her own because of the secret life behind her secret life. She thinks using poison when killing someone is “cheating” while on the job (“Where’s the showmanship!?”). In other words, she wants to be seen while staying undercover. So recognisably WOACA.
For a show that spends most of its time in risky chases and clever escapes, sexy disguises and deadly props, it disarms the viewer with cosy moments that slip out from behind its dangerous façade. From book clubs to antiques shopping, friendship bracelets to dormitories (there’s one superbly fun hostel scene where face-mask-wearing, Insta-Reeling, hard-partying Gen Z girls save the day for the leads), it is unafraid to go all girlie on us in between all the killing and heisting.
Debbie is anything but a “boring, average, middle-aged woman”. And when Judith/Whiptail says that only two things in her life really matter—her job and her best friend—it makes you stop and think. When was the last time you heard a woman say this, on screen or off it?
Ride or Die is streaming on Prime Video
