3.6

Apple TV+’s Prime Target Fails to Hit the Mark

Apple TV+’s Prime Target Fails to Hit the Mark

The first episode of Prime Target on Apple TV+ opens in Beirut, where we meet Baidaa, a Lebanese woman caring for her daughter. However, mere seconds after their introduction, they are brutalized in a tragic scene meant to establish tension. It quickly becomes clear that these characters’ existence was only to be victimized, serving as plot devices for the Western-centric narrative. They are given no real depth or personality, their sole purpose being to move the story forward for the white protagonist. This portrayal of Arab characters as disposable bodies, existing solely to be subjected to violence, feels tired, dangerous, and deeply problematic.

This approach isn’t just biased—it’s a lazy and ineffective narrative device. The scene feels disconnected from the main story, adding little to the overall narrative and lacking any emotional depth or complexity, only to be awkwardly revisited eight episodes later. Using a traumatic event against an Arab community solely to propel the white protagonist’s arc is a cheap and harmful way to create drama without engaging with the victims of the trauma at all.

Predictably, the series then shifts its focus to Edward Brooks, played by breakout star Leo Woodall, a British actor known for his scene-stealing roles in The White Lotus Season 2 and Netflix’s One Day. Brooks, a post-graduate math student, is introduced with a focus more on demonstrating his intellectual superiority than on developing his personality or motivations. By the fifth montage of him furiously scribbling through a math equation while others look on in awe (as if this somehow substitutes for actual character development), the reliance on clichés becomes laughable. Though Woodall’s charm brings warmth to the character, Brooks remains underdeveloped.

In the pilot, Prime Target introduces Ed’s relationship with Adam (played by Fra Free), and Ed’s struggle with his internalized homophobia creates conflict within their connection. Their bond offers a rare glimpse of genuine emotional depth and character growth as the show progresses. However, as predictable plot twists begin to unfold—twists I had hoped would not materialize after Adam’s introduction—the experience becomes increasingly frustrating, effectively undoing any growth or development Brooks had shown in earlier episodes. Ed’s journey of confronting his internalized homophobia was one of the few moments in the show that felt like a sincere representation of emotion amidst all the contrived action. Prime Target had the potential to offer a rare and positive inclusion by allowing a Queer relationship to develop alongside the larger narrative—something particularly uncommon in genre shows. Instead, even this aspect of the show is reduced to a plot device, manipulating the audience at the expense of meaningful character development.

Taylah, played by Quintessa Swindell, is an NSA agent tasked with surveilling Ed and his colleagues introduced in the second episode as a secondary lead. Swindell, who impressed in HBO’s 2021 In Treatment revival, does their best to elevate the character, but like Woodall, they are saddled with an underwritten role that provides them little to work with. When the two leads meet, their relationship lacks clear motivations and feels unearned. Their connection feels more like narrative convenience than a genuine emotional bond, leaving us questioning why they trust each other and what drives them. Though Woodall and Swindell try their best, their performances are ultimately overshadowed by the lackluster script that fails to provide the material they need to shine.

As the series progresses, Prime Target leans heavily on recycled spy tropes, offering a stale take on familiar themes. It attempts to build suspense through vague moments of “danger,” but its tense scenes consistently fall flat. The frequent shots of characters observed by security cameras feel more like dated technical flourishes, reminiscent of a 2002 episode of CSI, rather than compelling storytelling. (In the final episode, a meme is used as a central plot point in the villain’s downfall.) For these moments of tension to land, we need to care about the characters, but the show gives us little to invest in, leaving us indifferent to their fates.

Other supporting characters, including a turn from Martha Plimpton, are so underwritten that any scene without one of the leads—who receive slightly more development—feels like a slog. Sympathetic characters are introduced only to be killed off, but their deaths lack emotional resonance, while the villainous characters are indistinguishable and contribute little to the overall narrative. While the show attempts to delve into violence and conspiracy within the NSA, it ultimately feels like a tired rehash of other conspiracy fiction that has handled the material far more effectively. The series is more focused on confusing math mechanics, vague and broad conversations, and offering mystery for the sake of mystery than on developing fully realized characters.

Despite the capabilities of its talented lead actors, Prime Target misses its mark, proving to be a hollow, frustrating, and ultimately forgettable viewing experience.


Joshua Harris (he/him) is a lover of television, independent film, and his two dogs. His work has appeared in Awards Radar, mxdwnTELEVISION, and more. He is an African-American Film Critics Association (AAFCA) member.

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