THE CURSE REVIEW

The Curse is the laugh-out-loud heist you didn’t know you needed. If the plan was “wing it” and the goal was “somehow survive”.

Set in early ’80s East London, this two-season chaos carousel follows a crew of clueless misfits who accidentally pull off one of the biggest gold scores in history. And by “pull off,” we mean trip over success, walk out richer, and instantly cursed.

Natasha’s the lowkey mastermind. The only one treating this like an actual job instead of a pub dare gone too far. Albert’s the jittery heartbeat, one bad idea from a full-blown meltdown. Mick? Hilarious. An absolute scene stealer with terrible timing, zero filter, and even less impulse control. Phil’s trying way too hard, and Sidney, bless his heart, he’s in over his head. Ronnie? A walking fuse with two settings: shout or explode.

Together, they’re a glorious train wreck you can’t look away from. Running on New York Jets-level luck and Escobar-sized delusion. Their escape is as messy as an Elon Musk tweet and twice as unpredictable. You’ll root for them, roast them, and keep hitting “next episode” like it’s a moral obligation.

If chaos had a punchline, The Curse would deliver it in gold bars and bad decisions.