Trust is a scarce commodity in spy narratives. Whether exploring the works of John le Carré or Ian Fleming, the heart of a top-tier spy story lies in making you question if everyone is on the brink of betraying one another. Since most characters in these tales can’t read minds, the true motives behind intelligence leaks often remain shrouded in mystery. But what if a spy story—one in the vein of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy—included a distinct element? What if the concept of constant surveillance were pushed to the next logical sci-fi extreme? What if a spy’s own brain could be hacked?
This serves as the core premise of Peacock’s sleek new series, The Copenhagen Test, which drops all eight episodes on December 27. The show features Simu Liu in a role unlike any you’ve seen him in before, standing out as one of the most intriguing new spy series in a somewhat saturated field.
As Alexander Hale, Liu delivers one of his strongest performances yet, portraying a low-key, affable secret agent working for a watchdog intelligence group named “The Orphanage.” However, the series’ prologue reveals that Hale was once a special forces soldier. During a specific mission, he received unusual orders: Rescue only one hostage for a helicopter extraction, with priority given to an American citizen. Instead, Hale chose to save a non-American child over an American woman—a detail that grows increasingly significant as the story unfolds.
Why? Though The Copenhagen Test later reveals that, as an Orphanage agent, Hale’s brain has been hacked by an enemy group, the psychological trial he faced in that hostage situation five years prior was entirely analog—no cyberpunk elements required. This is vital, as it grounds the series in plausibility before introducing the eye-opening premise that Hale has a hidden Wi-Fi signal in his brain, transmitting everything he sees and hears.
Naturally, this premise comes with obvious limitations. What happens when Hale is in an area with poor Wi-Fi, like a subway or basement? The series provides answers, using these “real-world” moments to have Hale engage in what passes for normal interactions.
This layered approach is shrewd. Similar to a le Carré-style narrative, the “good guys” are aware of the hack and aim to keep it active to uncover how it occurred. Yet the twist lies in Hale’s pairing with a handler named Michelle (Melissa Barrera), who, it turns out, was the woman from that fake loyalty test five years ago. Thus, the cyberpunk series doesn’t rely on its tech premise to evoke the constant, uneasy paranoia in Hale’s mind; much of the double-crossing and espionage complexity stems from characters serving multiple masters.
If this sounds confusing or hard to follow, that’s partly the point. Refreshingly, The Copenhagen Test demands your full attention and won’t reward casual viewing—if you zone out or scroll on your phone, you won’t get much out of it. Brief glances, prolonged eye contact, and offhand remarks all carry weight, as none of these details are truly insignificant.
Crafted by Thomas Brandon (with Jennifer Yale serving as co-showrunner), The Copenhagen Test often feels more akin to a novel than a television series. This is a strength, though its hyper-detailed nature may turn off viewers seeking something on par with Black Doves. Instead, The Copenhagen Test aligns more closely with The Agency, albeit with a slightly heightened sense of reality, as its core premise requires a small suspension of disbelief.
The twists and turns of The Copenhagen Test might not earn it the title of the greatest spy show or cyberpunk series of all time. But when these genres collide, the series masterfully blends both, delivering a story that—if you’re engaged—you won’t want to stop watching.