“Fair warning: It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Lindy Littlejohn (Elizabeth Banks) declares early in The Miniature Wife after her scientist husband shrinks her to six inches tall. The quote captures the spirit of Peacock’s series as well. Co-created by Goliath‘s Jennifer Ames and Steve Turner, it overcomes a middling, measured start to tell a provocative and darkly funny story about a couple on the brink of ruin. Lindy might suddenly be short, but her and Les’ (Matthew Macfadyen) heightened circumstances become an all-too-literal metaphor for relationships with power imbalances. Comedically yet thoughtfully, the show dissects the whirlwind of their long-term marriage. It’s just that the fantastical fun takes a while to get going.
The Miniature Wife, based on a Manuel Gonzales’ short story, slowly sets up its unusual premise (one that’s inspired by films like Honey, I Shrunk The Kidsand The Incredible Shrinking Man). In this case, narcissistic genius Les is obsessed with earning the Nobel Prize for his revolutionary cellular-reduction device. However, he seemingly accidentally uses the invention on his spouse just when she’s about to dump him, and—bam—she becomes the size of a soda can. At first, this appears to be a wacky comedy in which Lindy adjusts to her absurd new normal, lying to everyone at the cost of her career while Les desperately tries to reverse the problem. It’s an important component of the show, but TMW has a few unexpectedly heartfelt tricks up its sleeve. (In an increasingly rare case nowadays, the trailer only scratches the surface of what turns out to be a layered, fascinating journey stretched out over 10 installments.)
Thistiny obstacle forces the Littlejohns to ultimately reckon with massive issues, ranging from long-simmering resentments to emotional infidelity. In the process, The Miniature Wife grapples with contemporary ideas of domestic bliss. It’s an effective endeavor because the show wisely explores both sides, giving equal weight to who Lindy and Les are as people, the events that have shaped them (through myriad flashbacks), and their approach to marital strife and parenting. The fact that she’s as tall as a smartphone becomes an admittedly unhinged tool to unpack anxieties, fears, and trigger points that they’ve successfully avoided for years.
What does it mean to actually feel small in a relationship and spend your life with someone who doesn’t know or appreciate you? Lindy gave up a burgeoning writing career to move from New York City to St. Louis for Les. And his two decades’ worth of work hasn’t yielded results. Their unique circumstances pave the way for The Miniature Wife to dig into universal questions, and it eventually does so with incisiveness and humor. In fact, the show frequently swerves between farce, action, and romance, much like The War Of The Rosesand Mr. & Mrs. Smith. All is fair in love and war, so with escalating ferocity, Lindy and Les attempt to attack each other (verbally and otherwise). However, their passion, connection, and history bind them together despite their fights, much to the chagrin of other love interests (played by O-T Fagbenle and Zoe Lister-Jones). The latter is a chic tech manager with a crush on Les, having eliminated Jeff Bezos and Sam Bankman-Fried as her options.
Banks and Macfadyen are thankfully committed to the ludicrous bit. She has a physically demanding role, considering Lindy falls, jumps, runs, and punches throughout the season. But the actor makes her character’s exhaustion, fear, and rage tangible. Macfadyen, who knows a thing or two about shitty onscreen marriages, is striking as a sheltered madman unable to deal with failure. But they also capture a certain sweetness that is needed to sell their relationship. Along with their vulnerable performances, it’s easy to sink into The Miniature Wife because of Mike Leandro’s set decoration, stellar visual effects, and amusing props that highlight just how short Lindy is. The show’s conceit allows for surreal sight gags, like Lindy using Legos as stairs for her dollhouse, having frantic fights with an insect and a cat, and petting someone’s nose just like Dany did to her dragons in Game Of Thrones.
As entertaining as this is, at 10 episodes, The Miniature Wife threatens to overstay its welcome. The show can’t seamlessly piece together subplots outside the main pair, including ones with Lindy’s agent (played by Sian Clifford) and a douchey entrepreneur who acquires Les’ company (portrayed by Ronny Chieng). TMW also suffers from Annoying TV Teen syndrome with Lulu Littlejohn (Sofia Rosinsky), whose hatred of her mother drives her actions for too long and for little payoff. In examining Lindy’s maternal instincts, which tie back to her own strict mom (played by Linda Emond), the show provides commentary about intergenerational trauma—but it feels shoehorned in. Despite the occasional dips of this roller-coaster, The Miniature Wife mines from its concept well, turning a largely escapist dramedy into one of surprising substance.
Saloni Gajjar is The A.V. Club‘s TV critic. The Miniature Wife premieres April 9 on Peacock.