From There to Here

Daniel (Philip Glenister) tries to reconcile his wayward brother Robbo (Steven Mackintosh) with their dad Samuel (Bernard Hill) over a drink in a central Mancunian pub.  Unfortunately for him, the truce fails and they are sitting feet away from the IRA bomb on the day it exploded in 1996.  Nobody dies, of-course, but it proves a catalyst in all their lives.  Before the end of the episode (one of three) Sam has had a stroke, Robbo has come up with not one but two insane plans to clear his debt and Daniel has begun an affair with the pub cleaner, whom he rescued from the wreckage.

This has nice moments but is mostly either predictable or unbelievable.  The use of northern staples the Stone Roses and the Smiths on the soundtrack is lazy and responsible Daniel's sudden need to escape from his close (adoptive) family into the arms of a stranger just doesn't ring true.  So far, this is largely a waste of a good cast, in-particularly Steven Mackintosh, who turns in an ill-advised imitation of the drug dealer in 'Withnail & I'.  If you like Madchester, and these are typical residents, you may like it a little less after watching this.

The Thirteenth Tale

The novel may have been a bestseller in 2006, but we'd neither of us heard of it, so we waited in vain for a haunting, or something even vaguely creepy to happen, but this was very much a cosy-slipper affair - familiar gothic/psychological thriller territory - and not much more than an ok way to spend 90 minutes of post-Christmas torpor.

Olivia Colman reprises her blunt, out of her depth role, here as biographer Margaret Lea, who visits ailing writer Vida Winter (Vanessa Redgrave with startling Titian tresses) in her country pile to hear the titular 13th tale.  This turns out to involve another country pile nearby, the crumbling Angelfield, sibling incest, insanity, suicide, murder and red-haired twin girls who reminded us disturbingly of those in 'The Shining'.  Perhaps the novel is more artfully constructed, but the television adaptation could have been the result of throwing du Maurier, the Brontes, Collins et al into a pot and seeing what was cooked up.  Yes, it was written by Christopher Hampton, but... he remains best known for something he adapted over 25 years ago.  1950s Yorkshire, we suspect, was unlikely to be a place of total isolation for these characters for years on end.  Who'd have thought that 'Heartbeat' could compare favourably in the reality stakes?  Margaret has previously written a biography of the Brontes, but doesn't seem to recognise Yorkshire, unless Hampton couldn't think of a subtler way to signpost the Moors to us.

The twist in the tale is not particularly satisfying, and instead throws up more questions, like a 'Midsomer Murders' story in overdrive, and the wholly unnecessary hint of romance for Margaret with the doctor (Steven Mackintosh) at the end just brings the whole thing down to the level of chick-lit with a kink.  Bit of a waste of a talented cast.  Speaking of which, we're hoping Emily Beecham gets to play someone sane and Tom Goodman-Hill someone other than a faithless rotter in the near future, for their sakes.

What Remains

If you are feeling a gaping hole where a depressing drama should be after the end of 'Southcliffe', look no further than 'What Remains', BBC1's new four-part offering for Sunday nights.  Len Harper (David Threlfall, occasionally sporting Frank Gallagher's mumble), is that most-dramatised of detectives, the lonely cop facing an imminent, empty retirement.  Then he gets called to an old house, divided into flats, in which a mummified body has been found in the attic.

We can't accuse this of lacking realism: the house and its basement flat owner bear more than a passing resemblance to the case of Joanna Yeates, while the scenario of a resident in a block dying and going unnoticed for years is spookily similar to the tragic end of Joyce Vincent.  Basgallop weaves together these two premises in a suspenseful hour that introduces the late Melissa Young (Jessica Gunning, a staple of 'Law & Order: UK' and a standout in 'White Heat') and her unfriendly neighbours in the gloomy house.  Incredulity aside about the assumption that she'd just left - it could happen and did to Joyce V - it did seem odd that the heavily pregnant Ms Khan would shin up a ladder into the loft, or opt to stay in her new flat which had a very unsavoury leak in the ceiling.  And the line about the smell being hardly noticeable wasn't very convincing either.

Shaping up to be gripping, even if the thought that we are all so easily forgotten is a depressing one and says nothing positive about our fellows.

Inside Men... Again *spoilers*

Was it only us who felt let down by the ending after enjoying every gripping minute?


The performances by Steven Mackintosh, Nicola Walker, Kierston Wareing, Ashley Walters and Warren Brown alone were worth the licence fee, and it could and should provide a masterclass in how to structure a serialised drama.  It just seemed like they didn't know what to do with the titular Inside Men at the end.  Would Chris forgive the man who admits he would have killed him, letting him give him a lift home?  Are Marcus and Gina meant to 'fess all, except their willing involvement, to the police and get away with a few hundred thousand?  And John, whose transition from mouse to lion wasn't ever quite true, gives up his freedom and the money?

Inside Men

Are cash-counting houses supervised by one person?  And do they take on dodgy staff from the casual labour force?  Stranger things have happened.  These aside, the only other TWNHs we noticed so far are more a matter of sloppy characters rather than sloppy writing: Marcus lights two gas rings for warmth in the middle of the night while wearing just a t-shirt and his partner Gina sleeps with full make-up.  They must be heading for a fall.

A promising start, enlivened by that old staple of a heist gone bloody and then wrenched around 'til you want to trust everyone but can't trust anyone.  The best thing about Basgallop's script is the seamless set-ups of unhappy private circumstances and compromised morals that form the background for most crimes.  Upright John sacks an employee for minor theft but suggests a daring robbery and pauses on the brink of shooting security-guard Chris.  In turn, Chris has given a helping hand to Dita, the thieving employee above, but has he only done so because he finds her attractive?  And he, too, is not above thieving from his employer.  Marcus is the amiable loser who thinks nothing of siphoning funds or even selling plans of the warehouse to the highest bidder.  By the end of the first episode, with another three to go, it looks like the robbery has been planned and executed by these three inside men.

At its heart is a serious and depressing proposition.  Are people well-behaved on principle, from a belief that it is morally right, or from half-baked notions, ideas badly taught and a fear of the consequences of doing otherwise?  Luckily for non-philosophers, it's a gripping drama too.

The Jury

You might be forgiven for thinking that there was enough drama in a retrial for murder to preclude any TWNH moments but ‘The Jury’, while entertaining enough, would have its audience believe some rum stuff.  Top barrister puts question to the defendant (paraphrased): “If you could go back to that interview, would you now tell the truth to the police?”  Since he’d hardly be likely to say ‘no’, is the answer really illuminating?  Is it evidence?  Wouldn’t the prosecution have raised these questions to the judge?  The sister of one of the victims tries to sway the jury, having planted evidence in the original trial.  Why?  Because the victims’ families all want someone to blame and punish.  Yes, understandable, but ideally the murderer rather than some random bloke?

The stories of the jury members ended without any major surprises, perfectly in keeping with drama conventions: the teacher keeps the baby because she’s learned the value of life; the shallow jury-dodger learns the value of doing jury service; the asperger’s sufferer comes out of his shell enough to have real impact in the jury room; the bored housewife decides to work at her marriage rather than go online dating, which after all hasn’t worked very well for the 3 victims; Anne Reid has another onscreen death.  They bond so well that nine months later they assemble to see one of their number sworn in as a British Citizen.  He’d been accepted as an American but having sat on the jury, he has faith in British Justice.  Meanwhile in parliament, trial by jury has been upheld.  Oh and Mr Lane is found not guilty x 3 and slouches off into the sunset with the juror who has been writing him cuddly-but-godly notes.  So they’ve been a pretty naughty bunch of jurors, but it’s all ended well, except... who dunnit?  OK it’s not about that, but it’s an obvious gap.  There’s no dah-dah DAH moment that drops Lane in it, or shows some shadowy murderer preparing to kill after a forced hiatus while Lane was in prison.  All-in-all it would seem British Justice is about not convicting a man whom there’s no evidence to convict, rather than attempting to build a case against a guilty party.

Murder trials are another area with which we have only limited acquaintance (so far, but those responsible for terrible drama beware) so we may be wrong on most counts, and this doesn’t have the howlers of ‘Law and Order’ for one, but if a drama is so blatantly pro trial by jury, shouldn’t it be resolutely and robustly believable?

The Jury

Remember the good old days when you knew where you were with ITV dramas?  Basically you tuned in to watch Ross Kemp/Martin Kemp/Robson Green play a cop/soldier/criminal/lawyer/doctor.  Recently, the envelope has been pushed almost to the point of originality, but with ‘The Jury’ we’re back on familiar ground.  Superior in terms of production, of-course – Peter Morgan, Julie Walters and a smart 5-night airing, plus the sort of mournful humming soundtrack that all but sings depth and gravity – but if Julie Walters had wanted a vehicle, she need have looked no further.  She single-handedly demolishes the opposition in defending her previously-convicted client’s retrial.  We’ve no doubt the law works by shaking the foundations of so-called evidence, but as a jury member we’d say it still looked overwhelmingly like Lane was the man.  Even if he turns out not to be, would it be thanks to his terrier lawyer?

The eponymous jury are worthy to be called his peers.  One is contemplating an affair through a dating agency, another is pregnant by a teenaged pupil, and a third is impersonating the juror called to serve, in collusion with her to gain a promotion.  There’s also a sub-plot involving a mystery woman who claims she served on the jury who convicted Lane in his original trial.  Performances are polished, and it’s intriguing enough to keep you watching, but it’s going to have to cohere into a convincing, emotionally-involving climax to have been worthwhile.  We're not sure it works as stand-alone drama.  Stand-alone, that is, from the previous series of 'The Jury', which despite featuring a different trial and, of-course, different jurors, continues with a format similar to that of a disaster movie: group of characters all have either cliched or unlikely backstories that intersect or are resolved in some way by the situation.