There’s a particular kind of heartbreak that comes with falling in love with a TV show that never gets to finish its story. For fans of Victorian sci-fi, that heartbreak has a name: The Nevers .
Naturally, the establishment fears them. A shadowy cabal called the “Free Life” wants to exterminate them. The government wants to cage them. And stuck in the middle is Amalia True (a ferocious Laura Donnelly), a bruiser with glimpses of the future, and her best friend Penance Adair (Ann Skelly), a brilliant Irish engineer who can "see" energy flows. The Nevers
Think of it less as a complete meal and more as a brilliant, unfinished novel you find in a used bookstore. You’ll be frustrated that there’s no final chapter. But you’ll be grateful for the pages that exist. If you love genre chaos— Doctor Who meets Penny Dreadful meets Orphan Black —give The Nevers a shot. Watch it for the bee-swarm girl. Watch it for the opera house fight. Watch it for the moment Amalia True looks directly into the camera of history and whispers, “We’re going to need a bigger boat.” There’s a particular kind of heartbreak that comes
Most steampunk is about polished brass and whimsy. The Nevers is about rust, soot, and desperation. Penance builds sonar glasses and electric lanterns not for fun, but to give her found family a fighting chance. The gadgets feel lived-in—held together with prayer, solder, and sheer stubbornness. A shadowy cabal called the “Free Life” wants
Amalia is not your typical hero. She’s haunted, gruff, morally ambiguous, and hiding a secret so massive it literally rewires the show’s genre. Donnelly plays her with a broken-glass intensity that makes every glance feel like a confession. You never quite know if she’s going to save you or sacrifice you for the greater good.
Partway through the season, The Nevers pulls off a rug-pull so audacious that you’ll either cheer or throw your remote. Suffice it to say, the show is not just a Victorian superhero drama. It’s something far stranger, sadder, and more ambitious. The Wounds: Where It Stumbles Let’s be honest. The first two episodes feel frantic, overstuffed with characters (do we really need a Touched who can turn into a swarm of bees and a Touched who can pull metal from the ground?). The dialogue occasionally leans too hard into Whedon-speak—that rapid-fire, self-aware quirkiness that worked in 1999 but feels a little dated now.