By Kemi Alemoru
We’ve all had those moments, walking around the posh bits of our city and staring longingly at the palatial residences, where you think: “I would kill for that house”.
That’s literally the premise of the new Mr & Mrs Smith reboot. John (Donald Glover) and Jane (Maya Erskine) are two strangers who sign up with a mysterious spy agency known as “the company” for a life of highly paid espionage. In addition to being given fresh identities, the pair are partnered matrimonially with each other and given a marital home, a huge West Village pile made from two brownstones knocked into one house.
When the couple hit a rough patch in the final episode, John decides to snoop around the house of a handsome neighbour Jane has been flirting with all season, aiming to find evidence of an affair. Instead, he discovers an obsessive bank of images of him, Jane and the property — and it’s revealed that his interests are not with John’s wife, but with their house. The neighbour, a real estate analyst, cannot fathom how two people with regular jobs could have such a beautiful and rare property. “The only people capable of anything like this are Russian oligarchs and Saudi royals, and if we’re being honest neither would have the palate for something as bespoke as your home,” he whispers intensely as John holds a gun to his neck, “It’s a jewel. It’s my Moby-Dick.”
Often the properties that I notice for sale are bland; white and grey soulless rooms, purposely void of personality to better appeal to the broadest set of prospective buyers. It’s a rarity to see unashamedly personal decor. But the Pinterest board-ready set created by production designer Gerald Sullivan for Mr & Mrs Smith has character: a textured dream of limewashed and micro-cemented walls, exposed brick, beam ceilings, parquet flooring, Berber rugs and wood panelling. It’s imbued with the character's aspirations — and a source of inspiration to me as I embark on a mission to create my own distinctive sanctuary after a recent move.
The house often felt like it was designed specifically for me. In episode one, not yet used to all this luxury, John sighs with ecstasy at the comfiness of his horsehair mattress. I crave that kind of contentment — but a quick search told me they’re about the same price as an average London monthly rent payment. Maybe I’ll never know how he feels. In episode four, Jane shows off a framed piece by Nigerian digital artist Osinachi and remarks that she wanted to buy art once she was making money. All I could think about was the pleasure I’d get from displaying to my guests an original piece of art I bought from a rising Black creative. In the same episode, Jane deters John from buying a bottle of wine, as they already have enough — and later on, we glimpse their wine cellar bar, complete with floor-to-ceiling bottle racks. As a keen host, I’d likely never leave this house.
Yes, the mishaps on missions are nail biting, the action scenes exhilarating. At several points, I giggled and kicked my feet like a fool as the spies fell in love. But the real star of the show is their completely unattainable West Village mansion, paid for in blood. So much so, that by the end it almost feels like a bargain.
Photography: David Lee/Prime Video/Amazon MGM Studios
