In a streaming landscape dominated by explosive action and true-crime docu-dramas, Netflix has quietly resurrected one of British television’s most sophisticated treasures: Foyle’s War. All nine series — 28 gripping episodes spanning 2002 to 2015 — landed on the platform November 20, 2025, and viewers are already calling it “the best binge you’ve never heard of.”

Created by Anthony Horowitz (Midsomer Murders, Alex Rider), the series stars Michael Kitchen as Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle, a quietly ferocious policeman who refuses posting to the front lines, insisting his war is on the Home Front. Set in coastal Hastings during and immediately after World War II, each feature-length episode weaves a standalone murder mystery against the larger canvas of wartime Britain: black market racketeering, ration-book fraud, fifth columnists, escaped POWs, and the moral rot that festers when a nation is fighting for survival.

Kitchen’s Foyle is a masterclass in restraint. No shouting, no histrionics — just a raised eyebrow that could freeze a Gestapo interrogator and a moral compass that never wavers. “Do you think justice should be tempered by circumstance?” he asks a suspect in Series 1’s “The German Woman.” The silence that follows is more devastating than any gunshot.

At his side is Honeysuckle Weeks as Samantha “Sam” Stewart, the plucky driver-turned-assistant whose brightness pierces the gloom. Their relationship — paternal, professional, occasionally prickly — is the emotional spine of the show. Weeks, in what remains her defining role, evolves from wide-eyed ATS recruit to a woman hardened by loss yet never broken. Their chemistry is television’s most understated love story: not romance, but profound mutual respect forged in fire.

Supporting players are uniformly superb. Julian Ovenden’s dashing pilot son Andrew, Anthony Howell’s wounded sergeant Paul Milner, and a parade of British acting royalty in guest spots — from Rosamund Pike to James McAvoy, from Charles Dance to Ken Bones — elevate every episode. Horowitz’s scripts are forensic in detail: real historical events (the Dieppe raid, the Baedeker bombings, the arrival of American GIs) bleed seamlessly into fictional crimes.

What makes Foyle’s War endure isn’t just the whodunnit — though the mysteries are fiendishly clever — it’s the moral complexity. Foyle routinely faces impossible choices: expose a sabotage ring and risk civilian lives, or let a murderer walk because they’re “vital to the war effort”? In later series, set during the Cold War, the show fearlessly tackles the betrayal of returning POWs, the rise of the NHS, and the moral hangover of victory.

Critics who dismissed it as “cosy crime” upon debut were forced to eat their words. The Guardian later called it “one of the finest British dramas of the 21st century,” while The Times praised its “unflinching examination of wartime morality.” It averages 96% on Rotten Tomatoes across its run, with Series 4-6 regularly cited as peak television.

Netflix’s timing is perfect. In an era of bombast, Foyle’s quiet integrity feels revolutionary. Viewers discovering it for the first time are stunned: “How have I never heard of this?” tweets one. “Michael Kitchen’s subtle acting is destroying me,” writes another. Binge data already shows completion rates rivaling The Crown.

Twenty years after its debut, Foyle’s War remains that rare beast: intelligent, humane, and utterly gripping. No car chases, no graphic violence — just the slow, inexorable turning of truth like a tide that reveals what war tried to bury.

The darkest crimes, it turns out, weren’t on the battlefield. They were right at home — and Christopher Foyle never looked away.

Stream all nine series now. You won’t regret it. You might, however, never trust a blackout curtain again.