Thomas Brodie-Sangster and David Thewlis Steal the Spotlight in "The Artful Dodger"

Olivia Bennett, 2/11/2026Dickens goes Down Under! “The Artful Dodger” Season 2 dazzles with sharp wit, surgical intrigue, and a cast that sizzles. Think corsets, crime, and colonial reinvention—a period drama that pirouettes between legacy and bold new flair. Prepare for mischief under the Australian sun, darling.

What’s unspooling is something far less formulaic—a Dickensian romp in the Outback, yes, but also a stylish tilt at the genre. The show quickly sidesteps the trap laid by so many “reimaginings,” those retreads that simply rearrange the period garb. Instead, there’s whip-smart energy at play. Corsets, scalpels, a little blood… and a cast crackling with the kind of chemistry rarely seen outside of an award season after-party.

Leading this lawless waltz is Thomas Brodie-Sangster—no longer the wide-eyed child from "Love Actually" or the doomed, sharp-tongued whiz from “The Queen’s Gambit.” Age has lent him the sly grace of someone who knows precisely when to wink and when to slice (figuratively or, in Jack Dawkins’ case, sometimes literally). What’s uncanny is how easily he slips back into Dodger’s shadow—a man only half-escaped from Fagin’s long influence and the streets of London now gone to dust and legend.

Speaking of Fagin, David Thewlis puts on a show within the show—what else is new?—with a performance sitting comfortably somewhere between Rasputin and your favorite uncle who always has another scheme up his threadbare sleeve. Thewlis, always every inch the shapeshifter, brings a spectral deliciousness to the part. There’s an affectation to his Fagin—one step from myth, several from morality—that keeps the audience guessing. You never quite know if a knife flicked from his pocket would be headed for your back or if he’d simply use it to carve up an apple and a bit of conversation.

It’s not all shadows, though. Maia Mitchell breezes onscreen as Lady Belle Fox—a would-be surgeon fighting the medical patriarchy (with tools both sharp and sharper still). Her presence acts less as counterpoint, more as catalyst; the frisson with Brodie-Sangster’s Dodger lights up scenes so vividly you’d imagine the directors needed less gaslight. Local audiences will recognize Mitchell from "The Fosters," but this role feels meatier and more arch—her ambition and affection wrestling for dominance in most encounters.

If the leading trio lays out a strong hand, it's Tim Minchin who somehow manages to riff on the tragic and the comic with that sideways sparkle only he can muster. Darius Cracksworth is a mess of a man, but every show deserves at least one ex-harbour master wading through existential muck. Minchin keeps things unpredictable—a hint that, at any moment, a four-minute satirical song might break out. Thankfully, or perhaps mercifully, it never does.

Australian addition Luke Bracey steps in as Inspector Henry Boxer, a role freshly inked for season two. It’s easy to moan about recasting, but Bracey’s effort to fill (or sidestep) the predecessor’s heavy boots brings its own intrigue. Ditched is the brutal edge; in its place, a civil servant’s earnestness fringed with just enough grit to be believable. Recasting villains or lawmen always risks derailing a series—remember the chaos on "Doctor Who" whenever faces changed before the monologues did?—but here, reinvention is stitched into the very fabric.

The supporting ensemble avoids window-dressing duties. Vivienne Awosoga holds her ground as Hetty Baggett—her watchful silence carrying unspoken authority; Luke Carroll as Billiberllary has that rare knack for lightening even the grimmest plot twists without becoming comic relief; and Kym Gyngell’s Professor McGregor seems always halfway to Bartitsu and halfway to the bottle. Add in Damien Garvey’s Governor Fox doing his best Machiavelli in a waistcoat. None of them feel marooned in the script.

Visually, the show leans into its colonial palette—sunlight hitting mud-brick hospitals, brass gleaming through dust clouds, plum-colored dresses jostling amidst the chaos. The set design never tries to out-Dickens Dickens, and thank heaven for that. Instead, there's texture: not everything feels staged for the historical enthusiast’s Instagram feed.

It’s worth asking: why does "The Artful Dodger" resonate now, almost two centuries on from the original Dickensian vision? Perhaps it's the climate—2025 has seen a glut of reboots, but few approach familiar stories with genuine verve. Here, there’s a sense of creative risk, the idea that the old can be reimagined without being embalmed. Even the 91% critical score seems almost beside the point—though if streaming metrics are the new Rotten Tomatoes, clearly the viewership agrees.

Come to think of it, reinvention might be the only tradition worth clinging to. The Dodger, washed up on antipodean shores, trades petty theft for surgical drama and heart-racing intrigue. The fact that it works—against all odds and most expectations—speaks to an alchemy of cast, script, and that indefatigable Aussie irreverence for doing things "the right way."

So, if the lure of a stylish, unpredictable period romp is enough to tempt your taste, don’t hesitate. The series manages that rare trick of making the familiar dangerous again. Not so much a reboot as a sly, sideways escape from the very notion. The world could use a little more of that in 2025, even if only for the span of eight delicious, sun-dappled episodes.

It’s hard not to grin at the thought: Dickens’ most slippery rake, exiled to sun-baked 1850s Australia, only to pick up a scalpel where he once lifted wallets. “The Artful Dodger” returns for its second round on Disney Plus—every episode already available for the eager or the insomniac. One might expect a straightforward colonial costume drama, but here’s the surprise: this isn’t just Oliver Twist with new accents and a kangaroo in the background.What’s unspooling is something far less formulaic—a Dickensian romp in the Outback, yes, but also a stylish tilt at the genre. The show quickly sidesteps the trap laid by so many “reimaginings,” those retreads that simply rearrange the period garb. Instead, there’s whip-smart energy at play. Corsets, scalpels, a little blood… and a cast crackling with the kind of chemistry rarely seen outside of an award season after-party.Leading this lawless waltz is Thomas Brodie-Sangster—no longer the wide-eyed child from "Love Actually" or the doomed, sharp-tongued whiz from “The Queen’s Gambit.” Age has lent him the sly grace of someone who knows precisely when to wink and when to slice (figuratively or, in Jack Dawkins’ case, sometimes literally). What’s uncanny is how easily he slips back into Dodger’s shadow—a man only half-escaped from Fagin’s long influence and the streets of London now gone to dust and legend.Speaking of Fagin, David Thewlis puts on a show within the show—what else is new?—with a performance sitting comfortably somewhere between Rasputin and your favorite uncle who always has another scheme up his threadbare sleeve. Thewlis, always every inch the shapeshifter, brings a spectral deliciousness to the part. There’s an affectation to his Fagin—one step from myth, several from morality—that keeps the audience guessing. You never quite know if a knife flicked from his pocket would be headed for your back or if he’d simply use it to carve up an apple and a bit of conversation.It’s not all shadows, though. Maia Mitchell breezes onscreen as Lady Belle Fox—a would-be surgeon fighting the medical patriarchy (with tools both sharp and sharper still). Her presence acts less as counterpoint, more as catalyst; the frisson with Brodie-Sangster’s Dodger lights up scenes so vividly you’d imagine the directors needed less gaslight. Local audiences will recognize Mitchell from "The Fosters," but this role feels meatier and more arch—her ambition and affection wrestling for dominance in most encounters.If the leading trio lays out a strong hand, it's Tim Minchin who somehow manages to riff on the tragic and the comic with that sideways sparkle only he can muster. Darius Cracksworth is a mess of a man, but every show deserves at least one ex-harbour master wading through existential muck. Minchin keeps things unpredictable—a hint that, at any moment, a four-minute satirical song might break out. Thankfully, or perhaps mercifully, it never does.Australian addition Luke Bracey steps in as Inspector Henry Boxer, a role freshly inked for season two. It’s easy to moan about recasting, but Bracey’s effort to fill (or sidestep) the predecessor’s heavy boots brings its own intrigue. Ditched is the brutal edge; in its place, a civil servant’s earnestness fringed with just enough grit to be believable. Recasting villains or lawmen always risks derailing a series—remember the chaos on "Doctor Who" whenever faces changed before the monologues did?—but here, reinvention is stitched into the very fabric.The supporting ensemble avoids window-dressing duties. Vivienne Awosoga holds her ground as Hetty Baggett—her watchful silence carrying unspoken authority; Luke Carroll as Billiberllary has that rare knack for lightening even the grimmest plot twists without becoming comic relief; and Kym Gyngell’s Professor McGregor seems always halfway to Bartitsu and halfway to the bottle. Add in Damien Garvey’s Governor Fox doing his best Machiavelli in a waistcoat. None of them feel marooned in the script.Visually, the show leans into its colonial palette—sunlight hitting mud-brick hospitals, brass gleaming through dust clouds, plum-colored dresses jostling amidst the chaos. The set design never tries to out-Dickens Dickens, and thank heaven for that. Instead, there's texture: not everything feels staged for the historical enthusiast’s Instagram feed.It’s worth asking: why does "The Artful Dodger" resonate now, almost two centuries on from the original Dickensian vision? Perhaps it's the climate—2025 has seen a glut of reboots, but few approach familiar stories with genuine verve. Here, there’s a sense of creative risk, the idea that the old can be reimagined without being embalmed. Even the 91% critical score seems almost beside the point—though if streaming metrics are the new Rotten Tomatoes, clearly the viewership agrees.Come to think of it, reinvention might be the only tradition worth clinging to. The Dodger, washed up on antipodean shores, trades petty theft for surgical drama and heart-racing intrigue. The fact that it works—against all odds and most expectations—speaks to an alchemy of cast, script, and that indefatigable Aussie irreverence for doing things "the right way."So, if the lure of a stylish, unpredictable period romp is enough to tempt your taste, don’t hesitate. The series manages that rare trick of making the familiar dangerous again. Not so much a reboot as a sly, sideways escape from the very notion. The world could use a little more of that in 2025, even if only for the span of eight delicious, sun-dappled episodes.