On the surface The Hour is a period drama that takes viewers behind the scenes of the titular news programme in early cold war Britain. However, the show masterfully navigates itself into the intriguing and clever territory of political thriller, using the backdrop of the Suez Crisis to explore media censorship. Set principally in the cold but fatherly Broadcasting House in London, the show focuses on a triumvirate of characters in charge of the show: its glamorous young producer Bel Rowley (Romola Garai), socially awkward and impestuous but brilliant correspondent Frederick Lyon (Ben Whishaw) and the aristocratic, handsome frontman Hector Madden (Dominic West).

The main cast, who are complemented by no less than half a dozen well-developed peripheral characters, do a stellar job. Romola Garai has fabulous chemistry with both West and Whishaw, bringing to life both a painfully complicated, multi-layered friendship and a subtly-built whirlwind romance respectively. The most noteworthy peripheral performances included Julian Rhind-Tutt, playing one of Eden’s Downing Street stooges, issuing threats against the producers in a brilliantly  understated Etonian accent. Burn Gorman was absolutely phenomenal as the sinister Thomas Kish, a shadowy Arabic interpreter, while Anna Chancellor was perfectly cast as the cynical veteran foreign affairs editor, Lix Storm.

The writing and direction were top class, with subtleties that were perfect additions or necessary nudges to telling the story and linking the sub-plots being handled exquisitely. From a character fiddling with their glasses nervously, tapping a whisky tumbler in frustration and leaning over a chair in awe whilst bobbing their head in tacit approval, it was all shot with incredible intention to detail.

Much like how Mad Men– an apt comparison – was successful in emulating the aesthetics of the American 1960s, The Hour contrasts the gentle, stately front of 1950s Britain with the suffocated, repressed lives that many of its people were forced to live.  With the stern social conscience that is ever-present in BBC productions of this sort, the show is silently damning of both the era's attitudes towards homosexuality and the upper echelons' casual attitude to democracy. Like Mad Men, it shows the best and the worst of the era, and cleverly upturns the rocks under which the excesses of the period have been hidden.

The only major criticism is that, at times, the anachronistic lexicon wielded by characters during the show uses much more modern phrases than would be appropriate, which breaches what is otherwise an elegantly tailored façade.  The slow pacing was perfect, giving viewers ample time to be led through the complexities of well-written characters and indulge in the elaborate nuances of the plot. The show, for example, is a subtle but powerful comment on media censorship of the BBC coverage of Middle Eastern wars, given the long-running tensions between the Corporation and the Government over war reporting.