Code of Silence, on BritBox

When baseball players conference on the pitcher’s mound, they often hold up their gloves to foil lip-readers. They play cricket in the UK. That is a lucky break for DI James Marsh’s team, because their lip-reader helps clue them into a gang’s larcenous plans. Unfortunately, Alison Woods gets a little too enthusiastic and inadvertently involves herself with one of the investigation’s targets in creator Catherine Moulton’s six-part Code of Silence, which premieres today on BritBox.

Technically, Woods is a police employee, but she merely labors in the cafeteria at the Canterbury station. She is smart, but only works service jobs, because she is deaf and everyone underestimates her. However, when DI Marsh arranges surveillance on Helen Redman (code-named “Cruella”) and her crew, they find themselves without a department-certified lip-reader, so they call up Woods.

She does well, helping Marsh’s team identify the newcomer, Liam Barlow (code-named “Hoodie”), who has been recruited to handle the technical aspects of the heist. After another surveillance gig, the temptations of curiosity and recognition get the better of her, so Woods applies for a bar-tending job at the pub owned by the gang’s enforcer, Braden Moore (a.k.a. “Hulk”). It is there that Woods meets the lonely Barlow, who obviously takes a shine to her and vice versa, even though Woods is trying to facilitate his arrest and conviction.

Barlow emerges as a highly compelling character, whom Kieron Moore vividly brings to life with his subtle but intense performance. However, his will-they-or-won’t-they melodrama with Woods gets a bit tiresome. There is no denying the honesty of deaf thesp Rose Ayling-Ellis’s portrayal of Woods, but some of her rash courtship of danger frequently stretches believability.

The primary focus falls on Woods and Barlow, but the supporting players on both sides of the law are rock-solid. Charlotte Ritchie and especially Andrew Buchan steadily flesh-out DS Ashleigh Francis and DI Marsh. Likewise, Joe Absolom projects menace and cunning as the erratic Moore.

Unfortunately, the regular detours exploring Woods personal life often feel like dead wood. For instance, her ex-boyfriend Eithan, a local government council bureaucrat, should have had five minutes of screen-time, at most. Instead, he is a major secondary character. Yet, every time he appears, the momentum screeches to a halt.

Art Detectives, on Acorn TV

DI Mick Palmer is the detective who would have to catch Raffles, John “The Cat” Robie, and the Phantom from the Pink Panther. He specializes in art related crime as the head of the one-man Heritage Department, but sometimes (more like usually) they also involve murders. Unfortunately, Palmer has a lot of insight into art crimes, thanks to his father Ron, a forger and thief, who keeps making trouble for his son in creator-writers Dan Gaster, Will Ing, and Paul Powell’s six-episode Art Detectives, which premieres tomorrow on Acorn TV.

When valuable British art is stolen, or an important art figure is killed, Taylor often gets the call. That is especially true when the original DI is an idiot, like DI Hollis in the opening episode, “Pictures at an Exhibition.” His DC, Shazia Malik is supposed to spy on Taylor for Hollis, but she would rather work with a professional DI, like Taylor.

In fact, they work so well together, Taylor requests her transfer, doubling his department in size. Frankly, she is a bit surprised by their first official case together, when they are summoned to an ancient burial site. However, it turns into a more conventional case when an extra, more contemporary body is planted within the excavation. To its credit, “Dead & Buried” is a good example of the writers’ willingness to implicate unconventional suspects as the series’ murderers. Frankly, it is never the butler or the tired stereotypical “evil” businessman.

Sadly, episode three might hit home a little too hard for Nancy Wilson of Heart (whose guitars were recently stolen), because it also features the theft of rare instruments and memorabilia from a storied recording studio. There is also a dead body in “Warped.” Again, the mystery is decent, especially considering the 45-minute-ish running times of each episode.

Instead of art, it is wine that lands Heritage the case in “Noble Rot.” It must be an especially delicate investigation, because a high-ranking government official was one of the guests at the exclusive wine-tasting that results in the poisoning death of the high-end wine-dealer. Sir Clifford Renwick also knows Ron Harper’s checkered history, forcing DI Taylor to tread carefully.

“Ice Cold” might draw a lot of one-off viewers, because it features the murder of a collector of Titanic artifacts. Inconveniently, he was killed right before finalizing the donation of his holdings to a Belfast museum, so off Taylor and Malik go to Northern Ireland. This is another good example of the chemistry shared by leads Stephen Moyer and Nina Singh, especially as they discuss their local contact DC Rory White (also nicely played by guest star Warren McCook), whose interest in Malik he picks up on and repeatedly notes, while, somehow, she cannot see it.

Douglas in Cancelled, on BritBox

Douglas Bellowes is supposed to be the one ruining lives, because he works in media. As far as the veteran TV presenter is concerned, he is the media. Wisely, the British apply the term “journalist” more sparingly, especially for television talking heads. His wife, Sheila, the editor of a bottom-feeding tabloid frankly does not deserve such a title either. However, they find the cancellation is on the other foot in writer-creator Steven Moffat’s four-part Douglas is Cancelled, which premieres tomorrow on BritBox.

The veteran’s TV host’s career is stronger than ever thanks to his on-air partnership with Madeline Crow. She happens to be a much younger woman—demographic facts that will become extremely significant. Then one day, Bellowes finds himself in the middle of a social media firestorm when a post accuses him of making misogynistic joke.

Was it really misogynistic, or was it merely sexist? Bellowes believes that is an important distinction, but he cannot judge for himself, because he was too drunk to remember what he might have said at that fateful wedding reception. Regardless, he knows he didn’t say it, whatever it might have been.

Unfortunately, Bellowes’ agent is completely useless, but his wife is intimately familiar with such scenarios, so she knows they always end badly. However, he can count on Crow’s support—or can he? Frankly, it is hard to tell, because her tweet supposedly defending him could be interpreted several ways.

Douglas is Cancelled is sort of like the Oleanna of cancel-culture. A lot of assumptions and interpretations change as Moffat alters viewers’ vantage points. Instead of choosing sides, the audience should just enjoy the carnage.

Bellowes is truly insufferable, but he is surrounded by mendacity, hypocrisy, and bile. To some extent, Moffat critiques online cancel culture, but even more so, he truly excoriates wokeness. There are no villains, per se, but Bellowes’ social justice warrior college student daughter Claudia is often pretty scary and always totally ridiculous. This brutally hilarious exchange with her father scathingly satirizes her extremism:

“Gay people are executed everywhere dad.”
“No they aren’t. Would you like a list of countries where they’re executed?”
“No”
“Why not?”
“Because its racist!”

Hugh Bonneville (a.k.a. Lord Granville) is perfectly cast as the pompous Bellowes. He does a great job both delivering punch lines and serving as the butt of jokes. Bonneville’s portrayal also makes it clear Bellowes is a twit, but not an idiot. You definitely pick up on his desperate drive to survive.

Rogue Heroes Season 2, on MGM+

Eight decades after WWII, many in the United Kingdom now question why Lt. Col. Robert Blair “Paddy” Mayne never received his nation’s highest military honor, the Victoria Cross (VC), nor has any other member of the Special Air Service (SAS), the commando unit he led throughout North Africa and Italy. In fact, no subsequent SAS commando has received the VC, which is strange, considering their valorous history. The hit show prompting these questions also offers an obvious explanation. The snobby officer class happily let the SAS fight and die on their behalf, but they never considered the highly effective but ill-disciplined unit proper soldiers. The disdain was mutual, at least it is throughout the second season of creator-writer Steven Knight’s Rogue Heroes (a.k.a. SAS Rogue Heroes), still adapted from Ben McIntyre’s nonfiction book, which premieres tomorrow on MGM+.

At the end of season one, Lt. Col. David Sterling, the co-founder of the SAS and then-Major Mayne’s commanding officer had been captured and interned in an Italian POW compound. Consequently, he has far less screentime in season two. However, Mayne more than capably picks up the slack. He also gets a new Sterling, Lt. Col. Bill Sterling, who is much more a proper officer according to the way top brass thinks. Of course, Mayne considers him an aristocratic dilettante. Nevertheless, the new Sterling is a better, more conscientious advocate for the SAS, or the SRS (Special Raiding Service), as they are temporarily renamed, than Mayne realizes.

Regardless, Montgomery and Allied command continues sending the SAS/SRS on foolhardy advance missions, paving the way for the regular army’s Italian invasion, because they keep surviving, killing many Germans and fascists in the process. Given their track record, Eve Mansour, the Algerian-born Free-French spy, who also happened to be David Sterling’s lover, hopes to rendezvous with Paddy Mayne, hoping to support his efforts and possibly glean some intel for De Gaulle regarding the expected invasion of France. Surely, the SAS (as they insist on calling themselves) will be in thick of any such operation.

One way or another, the SAS/SRS keeps rolling, but they are all not completely immune to the horrors of war, just the increasingly in/famous Paddy Mayne, who does not merely laugh in he face of death—he double-dog-dares it. There is no question Mayne is the star of season two and Jack O’Connell runs with it.

Indeed, O’Connell swaggers, snarls, and howls like a champion. You would almost think O’Connell was classically trained, given Mayne commanding bravura poetry recitations—one of the commando officer’s many eccentricities that worries Staff Sgt Jim Almonds, his designated conscience and voice of reason. That is a tough duty to draw.

It is also hard sharing the screen with O’Connell, but Corin Silva and Theo Barklem-Biggs shine developing season two’s other standout characters, Almonds and Sgt. Reg Seekings. Indeed, Barklem-Biggs would generate awards buzz in a more perfect world for the way he portrays Seekings’ PTSD (as we would call it today), as well as his righteous fury at the civilian casualties resulting from the National Socialists’ ruthlessness.

Ghost Story for Christmas: Lot No. 249, on PBS

Arthur Conan Doyle would probably hate this adaptation of his mummy short story, for the same reason many of his fans will enjoy it. Departing from the original text, it creates a role that is clearly implied to be you-know-who. Of course, he could justifiably complain the annual BBC series, A Ghost Story for Christmas had no business adapting his creepy yarn, because it is about a mummy, not a ghost. Still, maybe screenwriter-director Mark Gatiss might argue a mummy is an undead spirit that loiters malevolently, much like a ghost. Regardless, there is plenty of gothic tweediness in Lot No. 249, which airs tomorrow on Buffalo Public Television (airing a Ghost Story for Christmas, more-or-less for Christmas, as it was originally intended).

Abercrombie Smith is a very smart but not quite genius Oxford medical student, who treats Edward Bellingham, the eccentric Egyptology scholar in the digs next-door for exhaustion, nervous collapse, or really just some kind bizarre trance-like state. Whatever you call it, viewers can tell he has been dabbling in black arts.

Sure enough, soon thereafter, Bellingham’s campus rival is throttled by a mysterious hulking figure. For an Oxford student, Smith puts two and two together relatively quickly, deducing Bellingham has found a way to reawaken and control the mummy he bought at auction—that would be lot number 249. However, before confronting Bellingham, he wishes to “consult” his unnamed friend, a detective hoping to soon move to Bakers Street, who is decidedly not inclined to give credence to the supernatural.

Indeed, the Holmesian references are quite amusing. Gatiss also amps up the gay subtext, which almost feels unnecessary for a story set in the rarified world of elite British public (meaning private) school alumni. Frankly, Mummy makeup technology really hasn’t needed to advance much since Boris Karloff bandaged-up in 1932, so this one looks just as well as most of the ones that came before.

The Primrose Railway Children, on BYUtv

In 1905, you could avoid gossip and scandal by moving to the outskirts of town. It is basically impossible today, but the best option Sarah Robinson can think of to shield her family from venomous tongues is a trip to a backward wireless dead-spot, like the Scottish Highlands. She needs to level with her kids, but the motivation for their sudden relocation is a difficult subject to broach in Julian Kemp’s The Primrose Railway Children, based on Jacqueline Wilson’s contemporary re-conception (or whatever term you might prefer) of Edith Nesbit’s classic children’s novel, The Railway Children, which premieres this Sunday on BYUtv.

Precocious young Phoebe Robinson always felt closer to her intermittently-employed animator father Rob than her annoyingly responsible and disciplining mother Sarah. As a result, she takes his sudden absence particularly hard. Initially, her mother tells her and her siblings—kind of popular but still highly self-conscious older sister Becks and bookish, slightly-on-the-spectrum brother Perry—their father is in Japan for a pitch meeting, but that story will not hold for long.

Indeed, their sudden “holiday” to the Highlands still seems suspiciously ill-timed. Even in this small town, Mo, the owner of their rental cottage, acts weirdly solicitous. Of course, Becks rebels against the new smart phone prohibition, so she enlists Phoebe help to find their dad’s number in their mother’s phone and scrounge up some change to call on a pay phone. Meanwhile, Perry is fascinated by the local “heritage railroad,” a retro rail tourist attraction that is more about serving tea than transit from point A to point B. Nevertheless, the steam engine so fascinates him, Barbara the engineer takes him under her wing—until Phoebe pulls her siblings into serious trouble.

At least in one respect, Wilson’s sprucing up Nesbit’s concept makes a fair amount of sense. In the 1905 novel, the missing father had been unjustly convicted of espionage. For the modern retelling, Rob Robinson only has himself to blame for his absence, which leads to a very frank discussion regarding how adults need to accept personal responsibility for their actions. Arguably, the messages for younger people might be more on-point in Primrose than previous Railway Children.

The Complete and Utter History of Britain, on BritBox

Who wouldn't be thrilled to get a “new” Arthurian-themed Monty Python sketch? In a way, this show sort of has one. Roughly ten months before the premiere of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Michael Palin and Terry Jones collaborated on this silly historical spoof series, very much in the vein of Mel Brooks’ History of the World. For years, only two of the six episodes were thought to survive, in poor condition. However, the tapes of the entire series were recently rediscovered and restored, so The Complete and Utter History of Britain can now premiere today on BritBox.

Compared to Python, the early series was far less consistent. Clearly, the Pythons (when not feuding) brought out the best in each other, sharpening their collective material. As cruel fate would have it, for years, the first episode, one of the two previously available, happened to be the weakest of the lot. The best bit was indeed the Arthurian sketch, in which a Knight of the Roundtable must submit voluminous bureaucratic paperwork, before saving a damsel from a monster. The tribute to the grievously overlooked year of 1065 is also a somewhat clever idea.

Yet, fate also provided, because the second instalment, which was also previously available, is one of the better of the six-episode run. Surprisingly, character actor Wallas Eaton’s posthumous stock should rise with the rediscovery of the series. He earns consistent laughs, such as his portrayal as a royal food-taster. You can surely guess where it is headed, but it is still funny.

This episode features several as-if “TV commercials” from 1189 that are quite funny, but could move the professionally offended to apoplexy. It is important to note, they are satirizing the attitudes of the Dark Ages, rather than endorsing them, but context means little to the woke. The portrayal of Robin Hood as part social worker and part gangster also still has bite and cultural relevance.

Arguably, Eaton again supplies the highlight of episode three, appearing as Richard III, pretending to be the Princes’ new babysitter. Perhaps the most Python-esque sketch comes in episode four, when the bicycle-riding, accordion-playing, baguette-wielding French Army uses their peculiarly French weapons and tactics to defeat the English at 1557 Calais. Seriously, there is no greater Python tradition than mocking the smelly French.

Episode five provides a perfect example of the Python approach to drag that scolds will surely deem “problematic.” In this case, Palin portrays Queen Elizabeth, demonstrating how she successfully scared away her suitors. Of all the drag bits in Complete and Utter, this is probably the best, so now feel free to proceed with your meltdown.

Perhaps the funniest section of this episode is the Chopping Block talk show, in which the latest state executions are analyzed by the guest experts, but younger viewers who probably have not seen the “public affairs” broadcasts it emulates, likely will not fully appreciate it. Yet, for Python fans, Palin’s best scene probably comes in the sixth episode, when he gives an appropriately arrogant monologue in persona of King James I.

Ironically, throughout the series, the biggest laughs come from the disdainful host, Colin Gordon, who makes no secret of his contempt for the show’s incompetence, especially the resident historian, Professor Weaver. Fans of The Prisoner will recognize him as one of the few Number Twos who made a repeat appearance. Number Six got the better of him in “A, B, or C” by taking control of his drug induced dreams, but he had his revenge in “The General,” the super-computer episode. It turns out Gordon was also hilarious, in a bone-dry way.

Inspector Ellis, on Acorn TV

If DCI Ellis shows up at your police station, you probably work in a zoo—and maybe you should call your solicitor. After taking personal time for yet to be disclosed reasons, DCI Ellis reluctantly agrees to serve as her boss’s troubleshooter, taking over high-profile cases from provincial constabularies that are too corrupt and too incompetent to handle them. Naturally, nobody is happy to see her, but she gets results in creator-writers Paul Logue & Sian Ejwunmi-Le Barre’s Inspector Ellis, which premieres today on Acorn TV.

In “Hanmore,” the first of three feature-length installments, the late Rowan Edwards’ mother is a former member of parliament with a reputation for criticizing the police, so ACC Leighton needs someone competent running the investigation. At least Louise Edwards recognizes Ellis is a considerable trade-up from lazy local DCI Jim Belmont. However, Ellis is more concerned about the second victim, Maggie Bradley, the victim’s working-class girlfriend, who disappeared on the night of his murder.

Of course, Belmont latched onto Bradley’s step-father as the easiest suspect. He therefore resents it when Ellis uses logic and forensic science to poke holes in his flimsy narrative. Poor DS Chet Harper is stuck in the middle, tasked with supporting Ellis, while Belmont still demands his loyalty.

“Hanmore” is a decent case, but “Callorwell” turns into a nasty can of worms. Ellis and Harper (who is now assigned to the trouble-shooting Inspector, which should give you an idea how things went with Belmont) are dispatched to investigate the disappearance of DC Jenny Rawler, a junior detective who just filed a harassment complaint against the local DCI, Hain. Soon, Ellis and Harper discover she had received a series of death threats that “magically” disappeared from evidence.

Frankly, this is a notably strong episode, because it reveals plot twists American television would not have the guts to touch. In an American procedural, Rawler would be the victim—period, end of discussion. In Ellis, it gets messy—really, really messy. This episode also features a terrific supporting cast, starting with Sam Marks as the conspicuously slimy local DI Jamie Morrison. Tim Dutton is even sleazier as Hain, while William Travis nicely humanizes honest but intimidated Sgt. Frank Landry.

Count Magnus, on PBS

Like Barnabas Collins’s coffin in Dark Shadows, the ancient sarcophagus holding this notorious Swedish land-owner is chained and padlocked. That ought to tell you to keep the heck away. Nevertheless, the Count’s story piques the interest of a traveling English scholar. Once again, curiosity does what it often does in Mark Gatiss’s Count Magnus (part of the A Ghost Story for Christmas annual series in the UK), which airs on participating PBS stations.

Mr. Wraxhall is not a bad fellow, but he can be a bit much. However, he is such an earnest semi-professional scholar, Froken de la Gardie happily allows him to catalogue her disordered family library. Initially, Wraxhall is quite struck by a glaring portrait of her notorious ancestor, Count Magnus. Then, when he discovers papers referencing the Count’s “black pilgrimage,” his curiosity gallops out of control.

At some point, the family took the precaution of chaining up the Count’s grand coffin and locking the crypt’s wrought iron door. Only the local Deacon holds key, to maintain its sanctity. Unfortunately, Wraxhall might sound like a pretentious twit, but his fingers are surprisingly stealthy. However, he could very well open a Pandora’s box.

In fact, Jason Watkins might overdue Wraxhall’s annoying naivete. On the other hand, Allan Corduner plays the Deacon with a slyly suspicious attitude that perfectly suits the genre. Having portrayed a lot of working-class horror characters, fans will be interested to see MyAnna Buring shifting gears as the appropriately regal as Wraxhall’s hostess.

The Mezzotint, on PBS

The mezzotint print-making process might seem old-fashioned, but one of its leading practitioners was M.C. Esher, whom M.R. James might have appreciated, at least for his use of initials. Typically, mezzotints never change, but not the one in this M.R. James short story. Understandably, that rather bedevils its new custodian in Mark Gatiss’s The Mezzotint (part of the A Ghost Story for Christmas annual series in the UK), which airs on participating PBS stations.

Edward Williams definitely stays true to his school. He curates the traditional Ox-bridge-ish university’s decorative arts museum and spends most of personal time at the U club with his old college mates. Each day is largely the same, but that is how he likes it, until a mysterious mezzotint arrives for his appraisal.

Williams had not thought much of it, but his golfing friend Binks sees more in it. In fact, he describes a rather different picture, with a moon rising above the country house and a shadowy figure just starting to enter the frame. Weirdly, those elements had not been in the picture before, because, as Williams soon deduces, it changes slightly every time he looks at it. That sounds crazy, but Williams’s old school chums Garwood and Nisbet confirm it, much to their own surprise. It confuses all the three alumni, but Williams also feels an uneasy suspicion that the dark figure will do something horrible when he finally enters the house.

Of course, the mezzotint surely must represent events that occurred when it was printed in the 1800s, right? Yet, to Williams, it feels like a tragedy slowly unfolding before his eyes, especially when he learns he might have a personal connection to its town of origin. That last bit is all Gatiss, but it is a nice macabre little wrinkle. Regardless, it is strange no previous anthology series has taken a shot adapting it, especially considering it requires no special effects—just a quality print-maker.

In fact, this is one of Gatiss’s best “Ghost Stories for Christmas,” or just plain “Ghost Stories,” if you are watching on PBS. The mezzotint is a clever gimmick and Gatiss maximizes its full Twilight Zone-ish potential.

Passenger, on BritBox

Everyone in Chadder Vale knows Jim Bracknell remains traumatized by a vicious physical assault, but extremist environmental demonstrators still form a daily mob outside his fracking facility, obviously hoping to intimidate the emotionally-damaged man. That is so like them, isn’t it? Former Met cop Riya Ajunwa claims to be his friend, but she never arrests his tormentors, presumably because there are so many. However, when his assailant gets an early release, Ajunwa immediately gets in his face. The surprise homecoming stirs up big trouble in creator-writer Andrew Buchan’s six-episode Passenger, which premieres today on BritBox.

People seem to end up in Chadder Vale. Ajunwa relocated with her husband, but stayed to look after her now ex’s slightly addled mother. Yet, you just cannot take the big city instincts out of the copper. Indeed, Ajunwa rightly suspects the recent rash of strange happenings in the woods must mean something. However, her boss, Chief Constable Linda Markel, only cares about stolen trash “bins” (as they annoyingly call them in the UK). It sounds trivial to Ajunwa, but the thing is, there really have been quite a few stolen.

Presumably, the missing persons are somehow related to the unseen thing that apparently escaped into the woods during the prologue. At least Katie Wells did not stay missing long. She reappeared a day later, just in time to enjoy her disgraced father’s release from prison. She would be worried about Eddie Wells potentially threatening her Turkish boyfriend, but Mehmet Shah turns up dead, having fallen from the roof of Bracknell’s plant—suspiciously if you ask Ajunwa, but not so, according to Markel. It turns out there might be some answers on the darkweb, they really just lead to more questions.

If the dark web had been around during the time of Twin Peak’s first season, Laura Palmer’s profile would have been all over it. That is clearly the vibe Buchan was going for, but he spends much more time and energy setting up a prospective second season than delivering any degree of payoff in the here and now. While Passenger liberally borrows elements from many shows that came before it, Buchan’s six episodes ultimately amount to less than meets the eye. It almost feels like the product of a small-town mystery Mad Libs.

That cobbled-together-feeling narrative is a shame, because the ensemble cast is quite strong. Wunmi Mosaku convincingly portrays Ajunwa as both a sympathetically neurotic mess and a forceful cop not to be trifled with. She also has terrific chemistry with Hubert Hanowicz playing her schlubby almost-but-not-quite-boyfriend, Jakub Makowski, an immigrant Polish mechanic.

The Midwich Cuckoos: Village of the Damned, on Sundance Now

Most people still sufficiently value their individuality enough to be terrified by the notion of a hive-mind, or at least we can so hope. Weirdly, the town of Midwich gave birth to a hive-mind, when more than a dozen women fell pregnant under highly unusual circumstances. The kids are not alright and the adults are nervous (at least they should be) in creator-writer David Farr’s The Midwich Cuckoos: Village of the Damned, which premieres Thursday on Sundance Now.

John Wyndham’s novel The Midwich Cuckoos was twice adapted as Village of the Damned, so for American audiences they combined both titles, presumably to avoid confusion. Arguably, this might be helpful, because unlike previous adaptations, this Midwich Cuckoos does not look so much like Village of the Damned.

While family counselor Dr. Susannah Zellaby was in London, an uncanny blackout hit the small town of Midwich. Everyone inside the city limits passed out unconscious, even investigating authorities who entered wearing gasmasks. A few months later, every woman of child-bearing age finds themselves unexpectedly pregnant. Not surprisingly, this causes great distress in many households, until the authorities reveal the big picture.

The national government sweeps in to manage the situation, but Home Office rep Bryony Cummings is surprised every mother decides to keep their bundles of joy. The Midwich mothers grow close to each other, not that they have much choice. The government essentially confines them to Midwich, in exchange for footing all their bills. They also sponsor Dr. Zellaby’s group therapy sessions, which usually also include her own grown but not yet mature daughter, Cassie Stone.

The quickly developing children are intense, but most of the Midwich parents try to kid themselves into thinking they are still healthy and loving youngsters. However, Zoe Moran sours on her Midwich daughter, Hannah, after she uses her Midwichy mind-control to force her Midwich mom to injure herself. Unfortunately, neither Dr. Zellaby nor her domestic partner, Sam Clyde are ready to listen to her yet—but presumably he will soon, judging from the in media res prologue.

The trio of directors, Alice Troughton, Jennifer Perrott, and Borkur Sigborsson, do a nice job building tension, but they were undermined Farr’s terrible aesthetic decisions. Both the classic 1960 film and John Carpenter’s remake of Village of the Damned, get tremendous visual mileage from the eerily similar look of the Midwich children. However, they no longer have the same creepy blond pageboy cut, boys and girls alike. They still share the same cold, distant demeanor, but they now check all the required diversity boxes.

Somehow, Farr completely missed the point that the uniformity of the Midwich children makes them unsettling. They actually illustrate the notion that a lack of diversity is profoundly unhealthy, both in terms of physical characteristics and diversity of thought. In both films, the mere sight of the nearly identical children is enough to jangle viewers’ nerves. Farr denied the series directors that visual shortcut, forcing them to start fresh with each scene.

Martin’s Close, on PBS

Judge George Jeffreys was the Roy Bean of the Stuart Era. The hanging judge probably made his share of ghosts if you believe in that sort of thing. However, a haunting allegedly plays a role in a case the old witch-finder presides over in Mark Gatiss’s Martin’s Close, based on another M.R. James short story, which airs this month on participating PBS stations.

Frankly, an elitist squire like John Martin never really believed the law applied to him, but it most definitely does when Judge Jeffreys presides. He might be over-zealous, but the ancient jurist is incorruptible. Nevertheless, this case will be unconventional.

Martin stands accused of murdering Ann Clark, a “simple” village girl, whom the squire “trifled” with, for his own ironic amusement. Tragically, when her clinginess grew inconvenient, he somehow disposed of her, permanently. However, according to witnesses called by Dolben, the King’s Counsel, Clark’s ghost returned to implicate her murderer.

In terms of fairness, this might be one of Judge Jeffreys’ best trials. However, from a modern legal perspective, much of the proceedings with be highly questionable. It also rather prompts an odd question. If the accused did indeed murder someone, but they return as a ghost, should the resulting sentence be reduced, since the victim is not completely gone?

One thing is certain, nobody would want to be prosecuted by anyone who resembles Peter Capaldi. In this adaptation, four or five characters receive roughly equal screen-time, but Capaldi is just as magnetically watchable as ever portraying crafty Dolben. Elliot Levey is rather pompous, in an aptly judgy kind of way as sour old Jeffreys.

The Dead Room, on PBS

Aubrey Judd is so old school, he largely built his reputation on radio. He still hosts the same long-standing ghost story program, but, much to his frustration, annoying hipsters now write most of the tales he reads. However, the script gets flipped in more ways than one in Mark Gatiss’s The Dead Room, which airs on participating PBS stations over the coming month.

Unlike The Tractate Middoth, this week’s Ghost Story (formerly “for Christmas”) is not based on a M.R. James classic. Here we have a Gatiss original, but perhaps he should have stuck with the master.

Regardless, hammy Judd is a perfect fit for the great Simon Callow. Frankly, Judd finds tonight’s story a bit tacky, because of the violence, but his new producer, Tara, believes it is the kind of contemporary work they need to spruce the show up. Ironically, they must record this week’s production in the old, shabby studio the show used to be produced in years ago.

Initially, Judd finds it rather nostalgic to return to his old “haunt.” At least that is what he tries to project for the benefit of Tara and Joan, their ancient, taciturn foley artist. Yet, he soon hears strange noises nobody else notices. Perhaps most ominously, the pages of his script in explicably re-arrange themselves into a completely different story. It rather unnerves him, but somehow he fails to recognize the significance of it all.

In terms of story, Dead Room is passable, but it is no M.R. James yarn. Clearly, Gatiss tries to bring “updated” contemporary social sensibilities to the venerable Ghost Story for Christmas tradition, but it possibly backfires. After all, Judd’s identity is central to his character and his actions, but they consequently lead to the sins he must account for.

Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to listen to Callow unleash his inner Vincent Price as he waxes poetic over great ghost stories and other assorted pleasures of life. Callow has the voice for it, so he ought to narrate more spooky tales for real.

Ghost Stories: The Tractate Middoth, on PBS

For many [stupid] people, books are sort of like ghosts. They relics from the past, bearing witness to the folly we might have prevented, had we only read more of them. However, a part-time librarian might have a legitimately haunted book on his shelves, which is bizarrely in-demand throughout Mark Gatiss’s The Tractate Middoth, based on the classic M.R. James story, which airs on participating PBS stations over the coming month.

Although originally produced by the BBC as part of their annual Ghost Story for Christmas, PBS apparently believed the productions they licensed better fit Halloween season. Neither is wrong per se, because James is timeless—and hopefully so are books.

Intellectually gifted but financially challenged William Garrett rather enjoys working part-time in the library, while pursuing his advanced studies, even though “Sniffer” Hodgson, the supervising librarian, is a pompous blowhard. At least he did, until John Eldred requests the Tractate Middoth, an ancient Hebrew text.

The first time Garrett tries to pull it, he believes a mysterious shrouded figure coincidentally retrieved it before him. The next time Eldred calls to request it, Garrett passes out on the way to its shelf, overcome by the supernatural pollen suddenly swirling about. Clearly, that volume holds sinister secrets, involving its former owner, the nasty Dr. Rant, who maybe orchestrated all this weirdness while expiring on his deathbed, as we partially saw during the prologue.

Tractate Middoth is a particularly British ghost story. Indeed, it is easy to imagine how James’s tale might have inspired some of the early library business in A Discovery of Witches. If the story sounds familiar, maybe it is because Leslie Nielsen also portrayed the intrepid librarian on the early-1950s Lights Out anthology show.

Joan, on CW

The 1980s were an era of upward social mobility, flashy style, and conspicuous consumption. Joan Hannington wanted her piece of the pie, even if she had to steal it—especially if she could steal it. However, previous bad decisions, like her first marriage, keep blocking her attempts to get ahead in creator Anna Symon’s six-episode Joan, which premieres Wednesday on CW.

Joan is a loving mother, but little Kelly’s often-absent father is a lowlife, whose underworld debts endanger them both. Believing she needs money to create the safe, stable family environment her daughter deserves, Joan embarks on a series of desperate crimes. She has mixed success as a lone wolf, but she starts playing in more advanced leagues when she meets dodgy antiques dealer (apparently, that is the only kind you can find in London), Boisie Hannington. He has some big ideas, but they require patience and discipline, both of which Joan has in short supply.

Despite their bickering, Joan falls hard for Boisie and vice versa. She also enjoys the posh clothes and luxurious hotels that his schemes require. Of course, Boisie’s overseas accomplice Albie predicts Joan’s prima donna attitude will lead to trouble, but like everyone else in this series, he cannot walk away from a potentially lucrative score.

As you might be sensing, Joan has a real identity crisis. Symon cannot decide whether she is making a British version of Ocean’s 8 or an EastEnders spin-off. Just when it starts to get into a tantalizing larcenous endeavor, Hannington rushes off for another depressing meeting with social services or her grim family. To further complicate the audience’s response, we watch the future Mrs. Hannington break so many laws and make so many foolishly impulsive decisions, it is hard to root for her during the downbeat scenes of domestic drama.

Frankly, many questionable calls were made throughout the series, including the make-up for lead thesp Sophie Turner (the Dark Phoenix), which is so ghostly pale, you might half-expect the twist-ending from The Sixth Sense. It is a shame, because Turner is quite good expressing all of the title character’s emotional highs and lows. She makes Joan quite a roller coaster.

A Very Royal Scandal, on Prime

Prince Andrew’s Epstein scandal interview will be taught in PR seminars for decades to come as a text book case illustrating why it is often best to keep your client silent and out of the media. The Prince thought it would be a great opportunity to air his “alibis,” but the world widely considered it an absolute train-wreck. As the Queen’s private secretary puts it, Andrew’s sit-down with BBC2’s Emily Maitlis turned into a real “dog’s dinner.” Yet, the once popular Royal should only blame himself, at least judging from director Julian Jarrold’s three-part A Very Royal Scandal, which premieres today on Prime Video.

At the start of the mini-series, it sure looks like it is good to be a Prince, who always enjoys the finest of everything. Unfortunately, money is tight, because of debts run up by the Duke of York and his ex-wife, Sarah Ferguson, with whom he still cohabitates. However, what his mummy and the UK government will not pay for, his pal Jeffrey Epstein usually covers. Yes, that Epstein—the sex-trafficking sex-offender, whom the Prince met him through his childhood friend Ghislaine Maxwell.

Frankly, rumors swirled regarding the Prince’s relationship with Epstein for years. However, they exploded in the British tabloid press when one of Epstein’s victims released a rather candid photo of her and Andy, looking randy. Andrew and his private secretary Amanda Thirsk want to tell his side of the story, but Sir Andrew Young, the Queen’s private secretary and de facto head of the Royal’s private secretarial service cautions otherwise. However, as criticism mounts, Prince Andrew defiantly agrees to an on-camera sit-down with Maitlis, with the understanding the BBC will analyze the photo he argues has been deep-faked.

As everyone knows, the Prince’s interview made Frost-Nixon look like a triumph, comparing to the cringe of Whitney Houston’s “crack is whack.” However, Jarrold and screenwriter Jeremy Brock make it clear what really undermined Andrew was his arrogance, tone-deafness, and lack of compassion for Epstein’s victims. Perhaps for legal reasons, there is a good deal of ambiguity regarding what exactly the Prince did and did not do, as well as how much he knew and when he knew it. Regardless, it is clearly awkward to explain how you met your sex offender friend. Obviously, it was beyond the Prince’s rather limited abilities.

Still, Michael Sheen’s portrayal is surprisingly interesting because he so fully exposes the Royal’s insecurities and resentments. Sheen also leans into his protectiveness of his daughters and the complex emotional entanglements binding him to Ferguson, even after their bitter, Palace-mandated divorce. Instead of evil or scary, he comes across like a weak and pathetic cry-baby, who was poorly served by his lifelong insulation from responsibility.

On the other hand, Maitlis emerges as a one-note caricature: a hard-charging crusader for the truth, who simply cannot help rolling her eyes at dissembling answers, especially when they come from Conservative politicians (but no such outrage for Jeremy Corbyn’s anti-Semitism). Frankly, Ruth Wilson largely relies on two huge Princess Leia-like hair-curlers to humanize Maitlis, who arguably nearly matches the Prince’s arrogance, in her own way.

A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, on Netflix

Many English and Welsh students must write an EPQ, sort of like a senior thesis. Pip Fitz-Amobi had two ideas. She could write something safe and stupid about “feminism in gothic literature,” or re-open the investigation into a local murder, hopefully clearing the name of an older student she thought highly of. Option 2 might actually make the world a better place, but it would be very dangerous. She chooses the more perilous course in creator Poppy Corgan’s six-episode A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder, which starts streaming today on Netflix.

Fitz-Amobi is smart, but her EQ is questionable. Nevertheless, she has a loyal core group of friends who represent varying degrees of geekiness. Five years ago, she idolized seniors Andie Bell and her boyfriend Sal Singh, both of whom were cool to her. Consequently, she never believed Singh killed Bell and then committed suicide, so she intends to find the real killer for her EPQ.

Initially, she investigates like a bull in a China shop, greatly offending Singh’s younger brother Ravi. Nevertheless, her earnestness eventually wins him over, so they join forces. Awkwardly, their suspicions soon fall on the older, more popular sister of Pip’s best friend. It appears those mean posh kids lied about when poor Singh left that fateful night, thereby denying him his rightful alibi. They also soon discover Bell sold drugs to the group, at the behest of a bigger dealer, including the date-rape cocktails employed by wealthy predator, Max Hastings.

The revelation of Bell’s lurid secrets very much feel like they are modeled on the secret life of Twin Peaks’ Laura Palmer, while the rapport between Fitz-Amobi and her pals is similar in tone to CW’s Nancy Drew, especially when they break out the Ouija board. It is definitely a lot like a lot of other shows, including Dead Hot, but at least these teens are not so compulsively promiscuous (how could anyone be?).

Emma Meyers and Zain Iqbal both have a lot of screen charisma as Fitz-Amobi and the younger Singh brother. They also develop some pleasant chemistry together. However, most of her friends are boring and poorly differentiated in terms of personality. Demographics and sexual identity are poor substitutes for meaningful character. The adults are also a pretty lame lot, uncharacteristically including Anna Maxwell Martin, who is sadly under-utilized as Fitz-Amobi’s John Hughes-ish mom, Leanne.

Domino Day: Lone Witch, on Sundance Now

This witchcraft series might depress the business of hook-up apps. Blame Domino Day. She considers herself a witch, but the way she sucks the life force out of men is very much like a vampire. Technically, she is a lamia, even though she never shape-shifts nor slithers on a serpentine tail. She does not know her true nature, but she intuitively understands it would freak out other witches in creator-writer Lauren Sequeira’s six-episode Domino Day: Lone Witch, which premieres tomorrow on Sundance Now.

Day is trying to lay low in Manchester. She works part-time as a barista, but she lives by sucking the life-force out of horny jerks she meets through apps. She never takes enough to kill them, but she always lives them seriously depleted and with their memories wiped. Unfortunately, she did not find her latest victim’s recording device. He will be a problem.

Her ex, Silas was a problem too, but she banished him to an alternate dimension very much like “the Further” in the Insidious movies. Much to her surprise, Silas returns, but he insists he harbors no ill-will. Silas still hopes to harness her power to restore his own magic. Silas’s spell-casting abilities were [justifiably] hobbled by his mother Esme, the governing elder witch for Manchester. Clearly, Day needs help from the local coven that discovered her presence, but she only trusts Sammie, a practitioner of aura magic. In fact, she will have good reason to be angry with Kat, the coven leader, who secretly consorts with forbidden ancestor spirits.

The series has plenty of sexual undercurrents, but Sequeira wisely keeps more bubbling under the surface rather than in viewers faces. Frankly, sex usually leads to very bad things, so it almost offers a weird argument for abstinence. (Of course, there is a long history of vampirism serving as a metaphor for sexually transmitted diseases, so the same can be true for lamias.)

The Famous Five, on Hulu

Enid Blyton was a veritable one-woman Stratemeyer Syndicate. She single-handedly wrote many long-running British children’s mystery series. Blyton produced multiple volumes in her “Secret Seven,” “Barney Mysteries,” and “Five Find-Outers” franchises, but her “The Famous Five” series was her arguably her most popular. One of the five is a smart dog named Timmy, which surely helps explain their success. They are supposed to be old-fashioned and skew towards a youthful audience, so who better to shepherd their return to television than Nicolas Winding Refn, the director of the Pusher trilogy and Only God Forgives? Parents will be relieved to hear he adapted his style to suit the material rather than vice versa, so the kids can safely watch the six-episode The Famous Five when it premieres tomorrow on Hulu.

Supposedly, George [not Georgina] Kirrin is the only person who visits her family’s reputedly haunted Kirrin Island, so she is surprised to find Timmy wagging his tail there, When she returns later with her three visiting cousins, Julian, Anne, and Dick Barnard, they assume his owner was the dead man in the diving suit sprawled on the beach. In a Refn film, Timmy would similarly wind up leaving with the assassin who massacres the four children during the climax, but that won’t happen here. If the cousins get killed, Timmy will stay loyal to them.

Initially, George resents their presence, fancying herself a lone wolf. However, she needs their help investigating the strange happenings afoot on Kirrin Island. Apparently, Thomas Wentworth, the creepy local blue blood, seeks a mythical Templar treasure, but George intends to beat him to it. The trail will take them to London and then back to Kirrin Island again. Of course, Timmy sticks with them every step of the way.

In the UK, The Famous Five aired in three feature-length installments, but Hulu repackaged the first season into six episodes (three two-parters). Presumably, they wanted to encourage impulse streaming, since the Famous Five are not as famous in the U.S. The second two-fer, “Peril on the Night Train,” features pre-WWII German agents as the villains, perhaps to appeal to Indiana Jones fans.

Anne Barnard thinks Kirrin Cottage is haunted, but the mystery figure is in fact a spy out to steal Uncle (or father) Quentin’s newest invention. With war looming, his Enigma Machine-like “Algebra Box” has huge national security applications. Mr. Roland, an undercover British agent, will escort the Kirrin family to a secret military facility in Scotland, even though the overnight train is a perfect setting for the foreign operatives to strike again.

Much to her own surprise, George is sorry her cousins must soon leave in “The Eye of the Sunrise,” but she quickly meets a new friend. Unfortunately, she loses “The Great Supremo” just as quickly. For their last hurrah, the Barnard cousins agree to help rescue the circus hypnotist from the sinister mental hospital holding him prisoner.

The Famous Five is clearly produced for younger viewers, but smarter kids should dig its caperiness. The pre-War intrigue of “Night Train” and “Eye of the Sunrise” should at least moderately engage mature adults as well. However, the bossy George and goody-two-shoes Julian both get to be rather tiresome. Counterintuitively, the two youngest cousins, Dick and Anne, hold up the best over the course of the six (or three) episodes.