Unlike the scandal-tarred and cowardly West Midlands police leadership, Huw
Miller was a conscientious, well-intentioned cop. Yet, he can’t even retire
properly. Maddeningly, the serial killer who got away continues to humiliate
him. Still, his up-close poking and prodding might open up an opportunity for redemption
in creator-writer Tim Grieves’ four-episode The Game, which premieres
tomorrow on BritBox.
Somewhat
reluctantly, Miller retires in his mid-50’s and only DS Jenny Atkins is sad to
see him go. Sad is a strong word. It is more like she feels sorry for him. Miller
was once a rising star, but he made a dog’s dinner of the Ripton Stalker.
Basically, the killer ran circles around Miller, tricking him into arresting an
innocent man, while mocking him with a constant stream of insulting letters.
There
is still a lot of golf to be played. Unfortunately, Frank Byrne, Miller’s
neighbor and partner on the links, soon dies in a supposed overdose the he
finds suspicious. The ex-cop soon realizes Patrick Harbottle, the new guy on
the block, is indeed the Ripton Stalker, who has resumed tormenting Miller for
his own amusement—probably even murdering Byrne, so he could move into his
house. At least Miller is pretty sure he is.
As per
his M.O., Harbottle fabricates embarrassing incidents to turn the neighborhood
against him. Frustratingly, the awkward Miller is often Harbottle’s best ally
in that regard. Frankly, it is often painful to watch poor Miller blunder about.
Nevertheless, he is still smarter than all the other characters, except, Harbottle,
of course.
Even
though it excessively stacks the deck against Miller, there is still a lot of tense
cat-and-mouse stuff in The Game. It just would have been even effective
if Miller and Harbottle seemed more evenly matched. Instead, several sequences
basically amount to watch Miller stepping on one rake after another.
In America, more people probably watch thrillers set on trains than actually ride them.
Of course, that is not necessarily true along the Northeast Corridor and
certainly not in the UK, where this series was produced. Regardless, everyone
watches to literally see if the train in question eventually runs “off the
rails.” In this latest example, an overnight express train is about to get
hacked and the only officials with any hope of fixing it must waste time on
turf battles and conference calls in creator Nick Leather’s six-episode Nightsleeper,
which starts streaming this Friday on BritBox.
Joe
Roag rather heroically recovered a woman’s purse before “The Heart of Britain”
left Glasgow station on its regularly scheduled overnight run to London. (There
you go. According to the BBC, Scotland is truly part of Britain.)
Unfortunately, the woman was in on the plan, which allowed a mysterious
co-conspirator to install a hacking device in the train’s computer system. The hackers
take control and jam nearly all communications. They just did not anticipate a
blokey oil rig worker would be onboard with his sat-phone.
Soon,
Roag is talking to GCHQ’s National Cyber Security Centre. Acting Technical Director
Abby Aysgarth wasn’t even supposed to be there. She was seconds away from leaving
on vacation, but her intuition told her Saj Sidhu’s FYI of unusual activity was
in fact part of a massively dangerous systemic issue. Her instincts are pretty
well confirmed when the arrival boards at Victoria Station are hacked to
display a ransom demand.
Aysgarth
trusts Roag, even though she quickly determines the disgraced cop had fled a
corruption charge (to clear his name, of course). Unfortunately, the passengers
are an unruly and unhelpful lot, including Liz Draycott, who really ought to know
better, considering she is the scandal-tarred transportation minister. As the
hackers divert the train and increase its velocity to dangerous levels, GCHQ
Director Nicola Miller allows Aysgarth to temporarily bring back her
predecessor, grouchy Paul Peveril, who was dismissed for whistle-blowing leaks.
Just
about everyone in Nightsleeper makes such stupid decisions, they will
have viewers pulling their hair out in frustration. Yet, they will keep on
pulling, because the execution is so grabby. Despite all the poor judgement, the
tension starts high and steadily escalates—and every episode duly concludes with
a new shocking revelation.
Joe
Cole specializes in intense antiheroes, so the deeply flawed Roag is solidly in
his wheelhouse. He also develops nice phone-buddy chemistry Alexandra Roach,
who nicely shows how the mousy Aysgarth starts to assert herself, for the sake
of the hack-jacked train.
As
usual, James Cosmo is entertainingly crusty Fraser Warren, a retired train engineer,
who happened to be onboard. David Threlfall is similarly colorful and cranky as
Peveril, but frankly, most viewers would also fire anyone from a sensitive national
security position who looked like such a bleary-eyed Deadhead.
Watching this 3-part series, you might assume Jane Austen either committed murder
or escaped from a serial killer. That is because it utilizes many techniques associated
with true crime documentaries, especially the dialogue-free “dramatic”
re-enactments, accompanied by breathless voice-overs. For Gen-Z’ers out there, Austen
was actually a novelist. Academics, writers, and thesps associated with her
work analyze her life and legacy in director-co-writer Ali Naushahi’s Jane
Austen: Rise of a Genius, which premieres Friday on BritBox.
Like
all great writers, Austen wrote about what she knew. Like many of her heroines,
her family was upper-class, but just barely—and very definitely cash-poor. She
should have been married off, but somehow it never quite worked out.
From a
young age, Austen’s rector father encouraged her talent for writing, which was
quite progressive of him, particularly for the time. Eventually, Austen’s fiction
came to represent the family’s best hope for financial survival, especially for
the unmarried or widowed women.
Naushahi
and company do a great job covering the particulars of Austen’s dealings with
her publishers, especially her shrewd power moves that ultimately made Emma a
blockbuster. They also make a strong case for Austen as one of the first great
innovators of the novel as a means of literary expression. However, they
arguably inflate her status as a trailblazing woman writer. The truth is she
had considerable predecessors, like Anne Radcliffe, Sarah Fielding, and Mary
Wollstone. Plus, she was a contemporary of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelly, whose work
might even be more influential than Austen’s.
There
is a concerted effort throughout Rise of a Genius to use its subject to
score as many identity politics points as it possibly can. Yet, it hardly seems
worth the effort. If you cannot pick up on Austen’s social criticism from her
novels, there is nothing any academic can say that would convince you. Indeed,
the quality of the assembled talking
heads’ commentary varies widely. Ironically, some of the most insightful
observations come from actors like Greg Wise (Sense & Sensibility), Samuel
West (Persuasion), and Greta Scacchi (Emma).
Emoke
Zsigmond certainly looks Austenian when portraying the author in the dramatic
recreations, but since she never speaks, Naushashi largely just uses her as a
prop—in much the same way Jane Austen criticized Georgian society for its
objectification of women.
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.
Poor
Superintendent Battle. He is always overlooked, even though he is probably
Agatha Christie’s fourth most prolific crime-solver (after Poirot, Miss Marple,
and Tommy & Tuppence). To compound the insult, ITV previously adapted Towards
Zero and The Secret Chimneys as Miss Marple mysteries, leaving him
out. It sort of happens again with this adaptation of the latter. Instead of
the Superintendent and his nephew Inspector Leach working together, it is just
Leach, who carries much more baggage this time around. However, grouchy Lady
Tressilian is still a handful and she once again meets an untimely demise in
the three-episode adaptation of Towards Zero, which premieres today on
BritBox.
As the
matriarch of her extended family, Lady Tressilian is a bit disappointed by her
nephew Neville Strange’s divorce, but she still agrees to host him and his “homewrecker”
new wife, Kay Elliott-Strange during their homecoming. At the same time, she
also extends her hospitality to the newly divorced Mrs. Strange #1, Audrey, who
lived in the seaside Saltcreek estate as a child, after her parents’ accidental
deaths. Frankly, Lady Tressilian finds their mutual convergence stranger than
the various Stranges seem to.
Inevitably,
things get super-awkward when Neville openly flirts and charms his ex. Yet, he
is much annoyed by the sudden appearance of his cousin, Thomas Royde, who continues
to accuse of Strange of deliberately causing the death of their childhood
playmate. Despite falling out of favor with Lady Tressilian, he has come hat-in-hand
to beg for money. Through letters, he lobbied her paid companion, Mary Aldin,
to his cause, while implying a romantic interest. However, he still carries a
torch for Audrey Strange.
Obviously,
there was a lot of tension in Saltcreek, even before Lady Tressilian called Mr.
Treves, the family solicitor and sweeper-of-things-under-the-rug, to revise her
will. Soon thereafter, she meets a violent, premature end. Inspector Leach will
investigate, but only because his suicide attempt fails. Somehow, the powerful
rip-currents spit him back onto land, rather than dashing him against the
rocks. The WWI veteran remains tormented by PTSD and survivor’s guilt, but his
suspects’ entitled smugness quickly sharpens his edge.
Compared
to some recent Christie adaptations (especially Ordeal by Innocence),
this Zero is relatively faithful, but Pascal Thomas’s French adaptation
is still superior—and it allowed good old Battle to be good old Bataille. Nevertheless,
it is nice to see a veteran play a major role in a series that is not
inherently military-themed—even if he is a veteran of the First World War.
Regardless,
screenwriter Rachel Bennette fully embraces Christie’s central theme, exploring
the precipitating issues that give rise to the murder, just as much as the
investigation. This production is well served by Clarke Peters’ stately voice
explaining “point zero” as the moment “the murder is seated.” Considering
Neville Strange is a professional tennis player, he might have called it “point
love,” but that might have confused the less sporting. Bennette still capitalizes
on the tennis connection, gathering all Leach’s suspects around the Saltcreek
court, instead of the drawing room.
This is
also a consistently strong cast, starting with Peters, who perfectly personifies
Mr. Treves’ dignified craftiness. Though not Battle, Matthew Rhys is deeply
compelling as the haunted but still incisive Insp. Leach—essentially, he is
like a tragic Interwar Columbo.
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.
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.
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.
Flooding is often a human tragedy, but it also poses great risks and challenges for
law enforcement. It will be all hands on deck for this fictional Yorkshire
police force, when the waters start rising—even for the mega-pregnant PC Joanna
Marshall. The newly promoted detective’s final day as a uniformed officer will
be quite eventful, when she discovers a drowned body that wasn’t really
drowned. As Marshall officially and unofficially works the case, she uncovers
corruption within the local council government in creator Mick Ford’s six-part After
the Flood, which premieres tomorrow on BritBox.
If
you only watch only one episode of After the Flood (and maybe you
should), it ought to be the first. Marshall and her soon-to-be former patrol
partner Deepa Das are literally waist deep in water flooding out a row of lower
middle class town houses. Indeed, this episode’s special effects should be a
nice appetizer for fans eagerly anticipating the extreme weather of Twisters.
From
there, they are called to the river, where a newborn infant is caught up in the
currents. Almost miraculously, a good Samaritan saves the baby, but he is swept
out of Marshall’s grasp. In the days to come, she doggedly searches for news of
the mystery hero, but Lee Ellison has his reasons for keeping a low profile.
This
disaster sure kept Marshall busy. She is also first on the scene, when a
building manager finds a body presumably drowned in an office building elevator.
Except, the CSI-equivalent determines he was bludgeoned, not drowned. Since he
has no I.D. Marshall rather rashly puts his DNA into a genealogy database, even
though that violates British privacy laws. Therefore, she panics when the DNA
matches with a sister in France, who won’t stop calling her. Marshall fears her
career as a detective will be over before it even starts, especially when Tasha
Eden arrives from France to demand answers regarding her brother, Daniel. That would
be the brother she assumed already died five years ago.
The
mystery of the not-drowned Eden holds promise, but Ford and co-writers Roanne
Bardsley and Nina Metvier are more interested in scoring political points
against the Conservative Council chair and the crooked real estate developer, Jack
Radcliffe, whose latest project supposedly acerbated the recent flooding.
Frankly, a lot of this intrigue is so predictable, it gets boring. (They also
largely gloss over the scam of Radcliffe’s bogus “green tech” development.)
If it is this dangerous policing Belfast today, just imagine what it was
like during the Troubles. Many days, the response officers working out of the
fictional Blackthorn Station hardly know the difference. That is because James
McIntyre, the head of Belfast’s biggest “paramilitary” gang, seamlessly segued out
of IRA terrorism into the organized crime business. That makes Belfast a challenging
place to work as a cop, but three rookies think they want to do it anyway (maybe)
in writer-creators Declan Lawn & Adam Patterson’s six-part Blue Lights,
which premieres tomorrow on BritBox.
Every
morning probationary Constable Annie Conlon check under her car for explosive
devices. Remember, Blue Lights is set in the present day. Since she
hails from a Catholic Republican family, her choice of work makes her a target
for turncoat accusations (and reprisals). Unfortunately, her training officer,
Constable Jen Robinson, is a terrible cop. She has been fast-tracked, since her
mother is a high-ranking police official, but Robinson really cannot handle the
job.
Rookie
Tommy Foster is luckier. Not only is he fast-tracked himself, but he was also
assigned to Constable Gerry Cliff, a crafty old veteran, who clearly sees
himself as an Obiwan figure (not without good reason). Former social worker Grace
Ellis also had good fortune with Constable Steve Neil. He is more reserved than
she is accustomed to, but they slowly develop a good rapport. It might even be
turning into something deeper for the widowed Neil.
Much
to everyone’s frustration (except perhaps Robinson), Inspector David Johnston
regularly declares certain neighborhoods “out-of-bounds,” or “double-O-B.” He has
been deferring to a shadowy MI5 agent, who has been running McIntyre as an
informant and subsequently protecting him, in a manner reminiscent of the
Whitey Bulger debacle. However, the frequency and scope of the “OOB’s” arouse
the suspicion of the maverick-inclined Cliff and the perceptive Sergeant Helen
McNally, who can also tell Robinson is a shirker. Unfortunately, it is
difficult for McNally to discipline the protected rookie, because Robinson has
been exploiting her affair with the married Johnston for special treatment.
Blue
Lights will
probably sound like a fairly standard cop show in most write-ups, but the
actual viewing experience is something very different. It has a gritty intensity
that feels fresh in the way NYPD Blue did back in the 1990’s. Every
episode has several white-knuckle moments that will shock and exhaust viewers.
Like NYPD Blue, the cops of Blue Lights are largely quite flawed,
but you really must give them credit for putting themselves in harm’s way, over
and over again.
In 1974, the UK allocated shockingly few resources to Royal protection.
They got a whole lot more than they paid for on the fateful day of March 20th
when a lone wolf tried to abduct Princess Anne. The men who foiled the brazen attack
relive their courageous actions in Princess Anne: The Plot to Kidnap a Royal,
directed by Laurence Turnbull, which premieres tomorrow on BritBox.
There
have been other documentaries and news specials on Ian Ball’s unlikely scheme,
but this one is particularly proud of the scale model it commissioned. It
certainly took Chief Superintendent Jim Beaton back to the scene of the crime.
At the time, the junior inspector was Princess Anne’s protection officer—her only
protection officer, armed solely with a small Walther PPK that jammed as soon
as he started firing. There was no escort and no back-up to help Beaton once
Ball pulled in front of the Princess’s Rolls. If you are wondering how Ball
knew where she would be, he simply called Buckingham Palace and they told him.
Beaton
took three bullets protecting the Princess. Ball also shot the chauffeur,
another policeman responding to the noise, and a very drunk journalist who also
rushed to the aid of Royal Rolls. However, Ball finally met his match when
Ronnie Russell, a former boxer who trained at a club sponsored by the Krays,
arrived on the scene.
Although
they are very different chaps, Beaton and Russell are admirable examples of the
British character at its finest. The modest Beaton speaks with complete
authority calmly explaining what went down and how, while Russell’s colorful
commentary is highly entertaining. The scale model is all very nice, but Beaton
and Russell are the real reasons to watch Plot to Kidnap a Royal.
All Cary Grant fans know he was born Archibald Leach, because they remember he
dropped his real name as a one-liner in His Girl Friday. He reinvented
himself as Cary Grant, but there was always some Leach in there, deep down. Not
surprisingly, his early years of poverty and family strife inevitably shaped his
later behavior, definitely including his relationship with fourth wife Dyan
Cannon. Creator-writer Jeff Pope largely draws from Cannon’s memoir to tell
Grant’s story in the four-part Archie, which premieres Thursday on
BritBox.
The
only thing that could have made Leach’s childhood more Dickensian would have
been a stint in the work-house. His older brother was clearly his mother Elsie’s
favorite, so his untimely death partially broke her. Nonetheless, young
Archibald craved her approval, whereas his lowlife father Elias was incapable
of being a loving parent. After consigning his mother to a mental institution, Elias
told Archie he was dead and then pawned the young lad off on a relative.
As
a result, Leach had to make it on his own, which he did as film star Cary
Grant. After his early success and short-lived marriage to former silent movie
star Virginia Cherril, Pope and series director Paul Andrew Williams fast-forward
past two marriages and several dozen classic movies (including The Bishop’s
Wife and To Catch a Thief). Suddenly, in the early 1960s, Grant is
feeling at loose ends. His films are as popular as ever, but Sophia Loren will
not return his calls, so he shifts his focus to up-and-coming actress Dyan
Cannon.
Laura
Aikman is a good likeness for Cannon and she has her signature laugh down cold.
It is pretty clear Cannon was involved in the series as an executive producer
and the author of its primary source material, because Archie is
definitely sympathetic to her perspective. However, it is not wholly
unsympathetic to Grant’s either, but he is far more complicated.
Throughout
Archie, it is very clear what a number his awful parents did to him.
Whenever the mature Grant acts manipulative or cruel, the series flashes back
to show what was done unto him. Harriet Walter is particularly effective in
this regard, as Grant’s demanding elderly mother, who gives back precious
little in return. Dainton Anderson, Oaklee Pendergast, and Calam Lynch are all
quite earnest as the various young Leaches, but Jason Isaac is an eerie
dead-ringer for the silver-haired Grant. He also nails Grant’s unique
Transatlantic accent. Frankly, the casting of two leads is remarkable. Plus,
Ian McNeice is appropriately jolly and jowly as Alfred Hitchcock.
Although
much of drama that marks their relationship is familiar Hollywood aging male
star-young starlet stuff, Isaacs and Aikman truly have screen chemistry
together. Viewers can believe they cannot help getting together, even though they
both probably know it will be a mistake.
Everyone reaches a point where they
decide they have to start acting like grown-ups and accept responsibility. For most people, that is the
time when they start showing up to work on-time and paying their bills. Maxine
Ann Carr faced this crossroads when the police started suspecting her fiancée,
Ian Huntley had abducted and murdered two ten-year-old girls in Soham. The vast
majority of the British public following the case would argue Carr arrived at
her turning earlier, when she knowingly provided Huntley a false alibi and
therefore bears some moral and legal culpability as an accomplice after the
fact. Writer Simon Tyrrell tries to maintain some ambiguity during the
three-part Maxine, which is probably why so many British viewers hated
it. Be that as it may, Maxine premieres for American audiences tomorrow
on BritBox.
The working-class Huntley somewhat swept Carr
off her feet, but he quickly showed his abusive and controlling true nature. Nevertheless,
Carr remained loyal to him, largely accepting his evasive excuses regarding his
past legal troubles. Somehow, he managed to get a caretaker
(janitorial/maintenance) position at a Soham school, because his background
check was never carried out, due to bureaucratic snafus. Carr also found
employment as a teacher’s assistant, since she had a clean record.
Jessica Chapman and Holly Wells were two of the
girls she helped teach, so maybe she really was as upset by the news of their
abduction as she presented to the world. She had been out-of-town when they
were abducted, but she agreed to pretend otherwise, thereby alibiing Huntley.
Initially, Tyrrell and director Laura Way lead us to suggest she genuinely
believed he was innocent, but legitimately concerned he would be scapegoated
because of his record. However, his dodgy behavior just gets progressively more
and more suspicious.
Neither the victims nor their grieving families
appear in Maxine in any dramatically substantial way. That does mean
they are not Tyrrell’s focus, but it also somewhat limits the intrusive gawking
Nevertheless, the limited-series clearly has some degree of sympathy for Carr, consciously
portraying her as a victim of abuse. For what its worth, Huntley looks
absolutely irredeemable right from the start and only gets worse as time goes
on.
In retrospect, local journalist Brian Farmer,
who acts as the conscience of the series, probably should have been its central
figure and protagonist. Ironically, he guilt-trips a bottom-feeding London tabloid
reporter for exactly the sort of sensationalistic exploitation the Maxine series
has been ripped for.
