Kaos, the new project from Charlie Covell, creator of Channel 4 drama series The End of the F**king World, is anything but chaotic. It’s a reimagining of Greek mythology that’s subtle and complex, witty, rigorous, highly intelligent, funny and brutal and multi-layered, with impeccable pacing and perfect plotting. It flies.

Covell’s script is a masterpiece – so confident, so seemingly effortless, so light-hearted – as it sets up an alternate modern world where pantheism (and Zeus) still reigns supreme and gods mingle with mortals, rarely for good. The eight episodes are chock-full of action, jokes (however grim events become as we progress) and flourishes. A huge cast of characters are deployed without a single one feeling underdeveloped or unnecessary, with Covell using them to question what it means to be human, to have power, to be desperate, to have free will or not. They are all seamlessly integrated into this wildly funny embrace.

I can’t give you a better — or at least a shorter — clue to the overall tone of the thing than to say that Jeff Goldblum plays Zeus. White-suited and casual, he happily struts around his sprawling palace and gardens on Mount Olympus until one day a new monument to him is publicly unveiled on Crete and it turns out it’s been desecrated by a band of Trojans. Then he discovers a new wrinkle on his forehead, which he thinks must be the fulfillment of the first part of a prophecy that will end his reign and allow chaos to reign instead. All of his neuroses and insecurities start to flare up (to such an extent that after a few episodes, it feels like quite a departure from his vulnerability for Goldblum, who’s best known for roles built on impregnable cool) as he plots revenge on humanity. His wife, queen (and sister, as an asterisked caption notes) Hera – the appropriately imperious Janet McTeer – tries to encourage him to maintain his dignity and forgo imposing punishment and investigation.

The initially unseen narrator of events turns out to be Prometheus (Stephen Dillane) – former friend, current prisoner (chained to a rock, liver forever pecked at by an eagle, now it’s all coming back to you) and immortal enemy of Zeus. He does his best to bring about the fulfillment of the prophecy as quickly as possible, aided by various unsuspecting people on Earth and denizens of the underworld. This is overseen by David Thewlis as Hades, which, come to think of it, would have been just as good a way to clue you in on the tone of the thing.

Eurydice, known as Riddy (Aurora Perrineau), is on the verge of breaking up with her loyal rock star boyfriend Orpheus (Killian Scott) when she is killed in a car crash and finds herself on a ferry across the Styx. With the help (or hindrance—the god of lust is something of a minor chaos merchant himself) of Dionysus (Nabhaan Rizwan), Orpheus sets out to bring her back from the underworld, through some heartbreaking scenes in which the couple search for their dead son. Such moments are scattered throughout the series, when there is a risk of enjoying them as mere romps. They remind us that the ancient myths are about hard, eternal truths, and allow us to laugh at gods and mortals screwing around and getting turned into bees for their trouble. While Orpheus struggles to get to his lover, she is busy building a bond with Caneus (Misia Butler) and discovers even worse things about her new home than one could imagine for the underworld.

And there’s much, much more unfolding to be pieced together over time by Covell’s skilled hands. Ariadne (Leila Farzad) uncovers the treachery of her father Minos, while Daedalus (Mat Fraser) feeds something monstrous in some sort of… labyrinthine prison beneath her palace. Billie Piper plays Cassandra, nearly destroyed by the burden of being forever ignored and disbelieved. Medusa (Debi Mazar) stands in the wings (“The Medusa?” asks a newcomer to the underworld in celebrity awe. She lets a snake emerge from beneath her headdress to prove it. The fan is delighted), and there’s just about everything else you’d find in a classical education and/or a children’s book full of myths and legends.

Love stories teeter on insidiousness as scenes dance on the edge of comedy/tragedy (just ask Zeus’ ball boys) and the Fates and Furies meddle with men and gods. You don’t know exactly what the next twist or turn will be, but you know it will be funny, profound, moving – or all three – and as gripping and rewarding as you could wish. It’s an absolute triumph – thank Covell and the gods.