When a creative force like Will Smith exits a show, it’s easy to assume the project is doomed. But here’s the thing: ‘Slow Horses’ isn’t just surviving—it’s thriving. The Apple TV+ spy series, with its grumpy British charm and labyrinthine plots, has proven that a show doesn’t need a single visionary to keep it alive. In fact, its survival might be the most fascinating part of all. Let me explain why this isn’t just a story about a showrunner leaving; it’s a masterclass in how creative ecosystems can adapt without losing their soul.
Personally, I think the departure of Will Smith—yes, that Will Smith—was less of a disaster and more of a test. The show, which operates without a traditional showrunner, had already built a collaborative culture where ideas were shared like secrets in a MI5 briefing room. When Smith left, it wasn’t a vacuum; it was a catalyst. Doug Urbanski, the executive producer, put it plainly: ‘We had to solve it.’ And they did. Season 6, which premieres September 16, is reportedly the best yet. That’s not just a statement—it’s a challenge to every TV show that relies on a single star to carry the weight of its legacy.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how the show’s structure mirrors its content. Just like the spies in ‘Slow Horses,’ who navigate a world of shifting allegiances, the production team has mastered the art of collective intelligence. Combining two of Mick Herron’s novels into one season? That’s not just a logistical choice—it’s a rebellion against the formulaic nature of most TV adaptations. Most shows stick to one book per season, but here, the team is treating the source material like a puzzle they can rearrange. A detail that I find especially interesting is how this approach allows for more nuanced character arcs, something that’s often lost when you’re forced to adhere strictly to a book’s plot.
Let’s talk about the pressure of awards. The show has nine Emmy nominations, including nods for Gary Oldman and Jack Lowden. But Urbanski insists they’re not making the show for awards—they’re making it for the people who binge it in one sitting, who laugh at Jackson Lamb’s flatulence and then gasp at the next twist. What many people don’t realize is that this kind of creative freedom is rare. Most shows are shackled by the need to please critics or secure funding. ‘Slow Horses’ isn’t just surviving in that space—it’s thriving by refusing to play the game. If you take a step back and think about it, this is a blueprint for how TV can evolve without becoming a soulless factory of recycled tropes.
The real question isn’t whether the show will continue—it’s how long it can keep balancing its delicate tone. With nine books in the pipeline and a seventh season already in production, the team is walking a tightrope. They’ve got the blessing of Apple, the commitment of Oldman, and the creative muscle of Herron’s novels. But what happens when the books run out? Or worse, when the team’s chemistry shifts? This raises a deeper question: Can a show sustain itself on the back of a book series without becoming a carbon copy of its source material? I’d argue that ‘Slow Horses’ has already answered that with a resounding ‘yes’—but only because they’ve treated the books as a foundation, not a cage.
In my opinion, the future of ‘Slow Horses’ is less about the books and more about the people behind them. Mick Herron hasn’t stopped writing, and the team isn’t showing any signs of slowing down. What this really suggests is that great television isn’t born from a single genius—it’s born from a group of people who trust each other enough to let the story take the lead. And if that’s not a lesson for the industry, I don’t know what is.
