It all started with a vase. “I’d never lived anywhere long enough to justify having such a simple thing,” said the second World War nurse Claire Randall in the narration, as she eyed one through a shop window on her honeymoon in Inverness. “At that moment, I wanted nothing so much in all the world as to have a vase of my very own.” Did she buy it and live happily ever after with lovely professor husband, Frank? Did she heck. Instead, Claire found a magic stone circle, fell through time to the 18th century, fell in love with flaming hot Scot Jamie Fraser and embarked on TV’s wildest journey.
Twelve years have passed since the adaptation of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander books gave us the time-travel bonkbuster we didn’t know we needed. You can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief for its stars, Caitríona Balfe and Sam Heughan, whose chemistry has sizzled admirably across eight long seasons (it took 17 months to film the first one after Covid). As it limps towards its finale this week, the end is long overdue – but it is a bittersweet farewell to a wonderfully ludicrous show.
In its prime, Outlander was a perfect period drama: beautiful, brave protagonists; endless sweeping shots of the Highlands; intricate attention to historical detail; cunnilingus in the ruins of a castle. But that magical twist in its first episode also opened the story up to go absolutely bananas. And – in the words of Claire – “Jesus H Roosevelt Christ”, did it.
