Munich: The Edge of War dives into tense political talks before World War II. Set in Munich, 1938, it shows relationships and motivations of key players. You have British Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, German dictator Adolf Hitler and their advisors. It’s all about power plays, secrets and drama. Get ready for a wild ride!

Meet the characters from Munich: The Edge of War

Hugh Legat

Oh man, Hugh is that painfully earnest young diplomat who tries so hard to do the right thing it hurts to watch — you can see the gears turning in his head even when he’s supposed to be just standing there. He’s polite, very proper, a bit naive maybe, but with this fierce little stubborn streak that surprises everyone when it suddenly flares up. He jots notes in a tiny leather notebook (or was it a cigarette case? I can never remember), is useless at small talk but somehow brilliant under pressure. He wants peace with every fibre of his being, and he carries this almost embarrassing optimism like a badge — and then, for no good reason, he’ll snap and curse like a sailor, which is both hilarious and terrifying.

Paul von Hartmann

Paul is the brooding, tragic sort — brilliant, disillusioned, and quietly heroic in that almost annoying, noble way; he hates the regime with a kind of weary, intellectual passion. He’s sarcastic when he’s tired, fiercely kind when it counts, and has this soft spot for unlikely acts of courage (and terrible jokes). There’s a piano-playing, cigarette-smoking romantic quality to him — will riff about Kant one minute and whistle a tune the next — and he’s always got a photograph in his pocket that he pretends not to care about. He’s the type who plans, overthinks, then leaps anyway, and somehow it mostly works out (or it doesn’t, but he looks great failing).

Neville Chamberlain

Chamberlain comes off like the grandfatherly, slightly daffy optimist who genuinely believes paperwork and handshakes can save the world, which is kind of endearing and also maddening. He’s polite to the point of ritual, loves a decent speech, and has this habit of repeating things until you believe them (or at least stop arguing), and yes he has an umbrella — like of course he has an umbrella. There’s a warmth to him, a real desire for peace and normalcy, but also an almost comical blindness to how bad things really are; he means well, which makes the whole situation sadder. He’s stubborn in a sleepy, bureaucratic way and sometimes you want to shake him, but you also kind of want to make him tea.

Lenya

Lenya is that electrifying, slightly mysterious presence — sharp-tongued, quick-footed, and not afraid to break a rule if it means a better story or a safer outcome. She’s equal parts charming and dangerous, with one eyebrow that communicates more than most people’s monologues, and she hums to herself when she’s nervous which is oddly soothing. Sometimes she’s practical and ruthlessly efficient, sometimes she’s wildly sentimental (like she’ll cry over a scarf and then pick a lock five minutes later), and you never quite know which Lenya you’ll get — which is the best part. She’s loyal in a chaotic, “I’ll burn down the city for you” way, and also likes sweets, which is a weirdly humanizing detail.

Pamela Legat

Pamela is the quietly fierce domestic anchor who manages to be both endlessly patient and sharply sarcastic — basically the person who keeps everyone from imploding, often with a cup of tea and a look that could curdle milk. She’s loving and practical, the sort who can make a suitcase out of hope and courage (and probably mends a sock in thirty seconds flat), but don’t let that fool you — she has opinions and she’ll deliver them, gently or not. There’s a softness to her, a vulnerability, but also this secret streak of adventurousness she mostly hides behind polite smiles and dinner rolls. She’ll remember everyone’s birthdays, misplace her keys constantly, and somehow still know exactly when you’re lying.