Cillian Murphy had nothing left to prove. After finally reaching the highest peak of the film industry with an Academy Award, he could have easily stayed in the polished world of prestige cinema, taking on refined roles that matched his new status. That is exactly why so many people questioned whether he could truly step back into the soot-covered, violent world of Tommy Shelby. Returning to Peaky Blinders after Oscar glory was not just another acting job. For some observers, it was a test of whether Murphy could still access the raw menace, pain, and haunted intensity that made Tommy one of television’s most unforgettable figures.
With Peaky Blinders: The Immortal Man, Murphy answered that question in the most decisive way possible. He did not simply revisit Tommy Shelby as a familiar character from an earlier chapter of his career. He disappeared into him all over again. Any suggestion that success, acclaim, or Hollywood prestige might have dulled his edge was instantly wiped away the moment cameras rolled. By all accounts, the transformation was so complete that even his fellow actors were shaken by it.
Barry Keoghan, himself known for his intensity on screen, reportedly felt that force firsthand. During one especially heated confrontation, Keoghan was struck by the way Murphy marched toward him in character, radiating such cold authority and simmering fury that Tommy Shelby seemed terrifyingly alive again. It was not a case of an actor revisiting an old performance through memory or technique. It felt like something much more dangerous and instinctive. Murphy did not play Tommy as a nostalgic echo of past greatness. He made him feel immediate, unstable, and deeply human.
That may be what makes this return so powerful. Murphy understood that Tommy Shelby could not come back unchanged. The man audiences once followed through the streets of Birmingham has been scarred by years of violence, grief, ambition, and inner collapse. In The Immortal Man, Tommy is not merely older. He is more isolated, more reflective, and perhaps more broken than ever before. Set against the brutal uncertainty of World War II, the story finds him writing his autobiography, a detail that adds a haunting layer to the performance. This is a man trying to shape his own legacy while surrounded by destruction, haunted as much by memory as by war.
Murphy leans into that emotional complexity with remarkable control. He preserves Tommy’s steel, but lets exhaustion and sorrow sit just beneath the surface. The result is a performance that feels heavier, sadder, and even more dangerous than before. The old fire is still there, but it now burns through layers of regret and loneliness.
In many ways, Murphy’s return is triumphant precisely because it rejects the idea that major success must change an actor’s instincts. Winning an Oscar did not elevate him away from Tommy Shelby. It gave him even greater command over the character’s contradictions. Instead of looking out of place back in the mud, Murphy reminds everyone that this darkness has always been part of his brilliance. With The Immortal Man, he does not just return to Tommy Shelby. He reclaims him completely, and in doing so, silences every doubt.