Peaky Blinders Just Embraced TV's Most Infuriating Crime Trope, Thanks to The Immortal Man

Well, Peaky Blinders has finally closed the books on Tommy Shelby—with its trademark style, a few questionable decisions, and (of course) a Nazi-fighting pyrotechnic finale you had to see to believe. The original run kicked off way back in 2013 and wrapped up its story with a Netflix sequel movie, 'Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man', which dropped on March 20, 2026. So, have we genuinely reached the finish line? Yes for Tommy, apparently, but not for the Shelby family. There’s already talk of a follow-up series set in the 1950s, focused on the next dysfunctional Shelby generation.

As for 'The Immortal Man', critics and fans mostly ate it up. And honestly, a lot of that praise is deserved. The film moves at a brisk pace, never gets dull, and the action is cranked to eleven. Nazis, high-stakes conspiracies, and explosive set pieces—the kind of thing you’d recommend to anyone even if they’ve never seen the original series. But let’s not pretend it’s flawless; if anything, this movie stumbles headfirst into that one tired trope that’s plagued countless crime drama finales. (Spoilers ahead!)

So What Actually Happens in 'The Immortal Man'?

The story kicks off with Birmingham under heavy fire during the German Luftwaffe’s Blitz. But the Nazis aren’t satisfied with just bombing buildings—now they’re targeting Britain’s economy using a plot ripped from actual WWII history. Their scheme? Forge piles of British pounds using concentration camp labor and unleash so much fake cash that it wrecks the UK’s finances.

Cue Tommy Shelby, now living in self-imposed exile with only Johnny Dogs for company. It’s 1940, and Tommy’s gone from topping criminal empires to putting pen to paper on his autobiography (because nothing says reformed gangster quite like book deals). His sister Ada, who’s now the MP for Birmingham South, shows up to update Tommy on the state of the Peaky Blinders—which, surprise, is bad. Turns out Tommy’s son Duke has gone full turncoat, joining forces with Nazi agent John Beckett. Their goal: have the Blinders distribute £70 million in counterfeit money inside Britain. That’s a lot of Monopoly money.

Tommy’s out of the game—and not thrilled about getting pulled back in. But then Kaulo Chiriklo (twin to Tommy’s old flame Zelda, Duke’s mom) appears, nudging him to clear his conscience and rein in his wayward son. The clock starts ticking faster when Beckett kills Ada, pushing Tommy straight back into vengeance mode.

In the final act, Tommy manages to blow up the Nazi counterfeit fortune with a landmine—because of course that’s how you’d solve an economic meltdown. Beckett tries to run, shooting Tommy in the gut for good measure, but Tommy stays on his feet, gets his own kill shot, then pretty much tries to let the car run over him. At the last moment, Duke saves him, but Tommy—wallowing in guilt—tells his son to finish him off. Duke obliges, and Tommy dies mid-line from Christina Rossetti’s poem 'In the Bleak Midwinter.'

This Ending Feels... Weirdly Generic

Here’s where the movie loses some of that Peaky magic. For all its originality, the finale falls into the laziest TV writing trap: killing off your antihero. It’s already been done a hundred times—just look at Breaking Bad, Boardwalk Empire, Sons of Anarchy, Power, and depending how conspiracy-loving you are, maybe The Sopranos too. Everyone acts like it’s the only way to close out a story about a morally-compromised lead.

That’s what made the original show’s ending feel right. In the last episode of Season 6, Tommy dodges death, finally turns his back on violence, and rides (literally) into the sunset. His transformation felt earned—he gives his doctor a pass, watches his old life burn, and leaves Birmingham for a clean slate. The symbolism was thick but effective: black horse at the start, white horse at the end. He wasn’t a hero, but at least the show respected its own themes.

But here comes the movie, undoing it all just to squeeze Tommy into another round, only to kill him off in the most overused way possible. Why drag him back for one last job if he grew past all this? It’s hard not to see it as a studio-mandated setup for the follow-up series.

The Movie's Biggest Problems

• Lots of missing faces: No Finn, no Lizzie, and not even a hint of Alfie. For a supposed swan song, the gang’s pretty thin.
• Duke is in way over his head: Tommy leaves everything to his son, who hasn’t exactly shown he can fill those boots. If you know anything about the Shelbys, it’s that Tommy would never leave the family legacy to someone this raw. (Imagine Tony Soprano giving AJ the keys to the kingdom—no chance.)
• That "Arthur Reveal": The film offhandedly reveals that Tommy killed his own brother between the end of Season 6 and this movie. It’s almost impossible to swallow, especially since Tommy bent over backwards for Arthur’s sake throughout the series. He even torched Arthur’s opium supply to try and force his brother back on the rails.
• The whole purpose is suspect: The movie’s real reason for existing? To act as a bridge to the spin-off, it seems. Creator Steven Knight said the movie format was only chosen because, and I’m paraphrasing, explosions are expensive.
  "The budget is always never quite enough, you know, but it was bigger (for the movie). We could blow stuff up in the simplistic sense, but sometimes, when you’re having to cope with the budget, and you can’t blow things up, you have to come up with creative solutions, which can be great. But with this, we were able to."
• Seriously, explosions? If you just heard that quote out of context, you’d assume it came from Michael Bay, not the guy behind a gritty BBC gangster epic. And, honestly, the budget increase for spectacle leaves the movie feeling bloated. A leaner, tighter seventh season probably would have worked way better.

As for the future, the sequel series is on the horizon with Duke as the new head Peaky. But unless the writing gets sharper and the character work tightens up, the Shelby family might be in for a rough ride. In the spirit of Tommy Shelby: 'No more fighting. No... More... Fighting!'