It's early November when we meet in a postproduction house in Soho, central London, and Hardy has a deadline. He needs to finalise the edit on the third episode of Taboo, an eight-part BBC drama which he created with his father, and which he both stars in and is executively producing. Taboo is set in 1814, and Hardy plays James Delaney, an adventurer who returns home from 10 years in the Congo to discover that his recently dead father has bequeathed him an unusual inheritance, which is of interest to both the British and American governments and the East India Company. But, of course, given that it's come from the brain of Hardy, Taboo is not your average costume drama.
However, on that front you're going to have to take my word for it. Before we sit down in an edit suite to watch the episode, I have to sign a non-disclosure agreement. "You can write what you think," says Hardy, "just not why you think it." So we sit there side by side on a black leather sofa as an editor called Serkan plays back the episode on a large screen, Hardy scribbling continuously on an A4 pad and working his way through a stack of four (yes, four) pizzas and a bottle of Diet Coke; me making notes in my own notebook, mostly about the pizzas.
What I can tell you is that Taboo is seedy, gritty, knotty and complex. There are twists and subversions even perversions of character tropes that make most period dramas look like an episode of Peppa Pig. It was conceived in some ways, says Hardy, to be an "anti-Downton", and despite having lush production values that make London, where it is mostly set, look dank and grubby and decadent and sumptuous all at the same time, and boasting a cast of period drama stalwarts including Jonathan Pryce and Tom Hollander, Taboo goes to places that other shows of that genre don't. Let's just say, the title of the show is no accident.
When it finishes, we move to the kitchen area of the production house, which is off a windowless corridor of closed doors, next to each of which is a sign identifying the programme being edited inside: Poldark, Endeavour, Fortitude. Our conversation is occasionally interrupted by vitamin-D-starved TV types popping in to make cups of coffee, as well as some loud male and female groans repeating over and over from an edit suite across the hall (fighting or schtupping? "Sounds like a bit of both," says Hardy).
Hardy seems fairly relaxed, given that he's under a reasonable amount of pressure. His production company, Hardy Son and Baker, which he runs with a producing partner, Dean Baker, has to send the finished series to the BBC and the American broadcaster, FX, by Christmas so that it can air in January. "And I've just handed in 14 pages of notes on episode three," he points out, without much evident contrition. I ask him how he feels watching the episode back. "I know every line, and I know where everything is in every scene, and I know where most candles are," he says. "So yeah, I'm never happy."
Hardy had the idea for the show when he was playing Bill Sikes in a 2007 BBC adaptation of Oliver Twist, and conceived the character originally as "a Sherlock Holmes-type detective, a bit more physical as well as smart, but who has that hyper-vigilance; a spiritual, hybrid shaman-cum-cannibal-serial-killer-type thing". He spent the next nine years going through many different iterations of the idea trying to get it made; and now he has. As Dean Baker puts it, who lets me into the edit suite before Hardy arrives: "It's very much Tom's baby."