The Regime review: A political satire with no bite, little wit and a totally ... trends now
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The Regime
Mad as a box of gerbils. Completely loop-da-loopy, like the Red Arrows on acid. Further out of her tiny skull than Ab Fab's Patsy after three bottles of Bollinger.
Kate Winslet is delirious as the germophobe Chancellor of a crackpot country somewhere in Middle Europe, in The Regime (Sky Atlantic).
When she isn't delivering televised demands for undying love from her nation of peasant sugar-beet farmers, she is entertaining diplomats with soupy karaoke versions of 1970s pop hits.
She's so terrified of being poisoned by mould spores that her palace is bleached every other week, and she's carted around the corridors in a Perspex sedan chair.
Her only confidante is her father's corpse, decomposing in a subterranean mausoleum.
Kate Winslet is delirious as the germophobe Chancellor of a crackpot country somewhere in Middle Europe, in The Regime (Sky Atlantic)
She's so terrified of being poisoned by mould spores that her palace is bleached every other week, and she's carted around the corridors in a Perspex sedan chair
Written by Succession's Will Tracy, and directed by Sir Stephen Frears, who earned an Oscar nomination for The Queen with Helen Mirren, this is international political satire at maximum volume.
When Chancellor Elena Vernham sits down to dinner alone, surrounded by dehumidifier machines and wearing an oxygen mask, the parallels with Vladimir Putin's obsession with disease are inescapable.
But
