Look, I’m not usually a fan of “rich people problems” shows. But The Tunnel isn’t about the bunkers. It’s about what happens when you lock yourself away from humanity. Daniels’ character, Arthur, is a walking contradiction: a man who builds cages for others while pretending he’s free. You’ll watch him and think, “I should hate this guy,” then two scenes later, you’re whispering, “Wait, I kind of get it.”
The writing is sharp, too. There’s a scene in Episode 2 where Arthur is explaining his “philosophy of isolation” to a tech billionaire, and he says, “Privacy is the last luxury. You’ve got the money. Now you need the shadow.” I literally paused and rewound that line. It’s that good.
And the supporting cast? Ruth Negga plays a forensic psychologist who’s tracking Arthur because—surprise—people keep dying in these bunkers. She brings this quiet, coiled intensity that makes every scene between them feel like a chess match. You can almost hear the pieces clicking.
Jeff Daniels’ New Netflix Show Sounds Like A Huge Improvement From His
The “Jeff Daniels Effect”
Here’s my theory: Jeff Daniels has a secret superpower. He can make mundane dialogue feel like Shakespeare. In The Tunnel, there’s a moment where he’s ordering a coffee—just a simple “black, no sugar”—and the barista asks, “Is that for here or to go?” He stares at her for a beat and mutters, “Nowhere, apparently.” It’s a throwaway line, but thanks to his delivery, it lands like a punch.
I texted my friend again after Episode 3: “He’s doing the thing. The thing where he makes you uncomfortable and fascinated.” She responded, “That’s just his face. It’s been doing that since The Squid and the Whale.” She’s not wrong. Daniels has a face that seems to hold secrets—wrinkles that feel earned, eyebrows that question your life choices.
