"That Would Never Happen!" Dan and Ali write the real reviews of UK TV drama serials (stuff marketed as quality, if you please), telling it like it is rather than the my-mate's-the-director, I-get-party-invites, or the I-need-my-job reviews that often appear. Not to mention the I've-not-watched-it....
Wednesday, 27 February 2013
Lightfields
Remember Marchlands, the ITV chiller set in 3 timeframes? Well here's Lightfields, the ITV chiller set in 3 timeframes. It's not a sequel, it's a follow-up, in the sense that 'Lewis' is a follow-up to 'Morse', which means the house is different and so are the characters but the basic setup is the same: someone dies horribly and comes back as a ghost to haunt two later groups of inhabitants.
This one has not-so-innocent teenager Lucy (Antonia Clarke) in 1944 having an affair with Dwight, the only American airman for miles (Neil Jackson). He's the spookiest thing in it, coaxing women to take walks with him and turning up behind trees and in barns, always alone. Unfortunately she's thumbing her nose at her new friend Eve, who met him first, and two local lads who fancied their chances. There may be trouble ahead... which is confirmed when Vivien (Lucy Cohu, freed from her 'Ripper Street' corsets) and daughter Clare (Karla Crome, so good in 'Murder') move into Lightfields in 1975 and hear a girl laughing, see doors opening and - you get the picture. At the end of the episode she turns up in the bedroom of the 2012 family home of Danny Webb and Sophie Thompson. We didn't catch their names as the modern segment has had little else to offer in the way of thrills or interest so far. The old man was around in 1944 (as Pip, Lucy's younger brother), but wistful looks and rolling eyeballs yield little in the way of thrills.
Everything is pretty well signalled. 1944 has cardigans and swing tunes, 1975 has volvos, pigtails and a disco (but no dungarees, a definite improvement on 'Marchlands') and 2012 has, well, let's just say a dreary familiarity. Will we be watching episodes 2 - 5? Oh probably. Suckers for doors opening by unseen hands and cracked dusty mirrors in barns, we are!
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