Monday, 19 June 2017


This article was originally published in The Dundee Courier on 17 June 2017.

POLDARK: Sunday, BBC One



Were it not for POLDARK, Britain would be lost without its desperate fix of brow-clenched, bosom-heaving, stubble-jutting 18th century stoics galloping urgently atop rugged coastlines.

Occasional viewers of this, if you will, handsomely mounted melodrama needn’t worry about picking up the storyline, as nothing ever changes in Poldark’s world of tricorn brouhaha.

Ross broods, Demelza frets, Warleggan smirks. Rinse and repeat. Watching Poldark is like leafing through a yellowed Georgian volume of relationship advice columns; mildly diverting, but of no lasting interest.

It might sound odd to describe a drama steeped in death and betrayal as comfort viewing incarnate, but that’s precisely what it is. A slick cake of antique soap. Howard’s Way in mud-caked britches. Take a Break by candlelight.

Which is fine, up to a point. God knows we all need some escapism in this sense-forsaken cesspit of a world (Corbyn should’ve campaigned on that slogan). But this adaptation of the Poldark saga, for all its solidly professional drive, lacks the heightened dynamism of truly great escapist entertainment.

I used to quite admire its knowing sense of straight-faced camp, but even that seems to have dissipated. Without that saving grace, that enemy of blandness, Poldark is little more than a slightly above average Sunday evening time-passer.

Still, Mammoth Screen, the prolific production company behind Poldark, deserve their reputation as fine purveyors of prestigious period dramas. Parade’s End, Victoria, Endeavour and their macabre Agatha Christie adaptations all testify to that.

However, their newest venture is an atypically contemporary thriller steeped in millennial anxiety; catnip for fans of jittery camera-work, steel-blue lens filters and clandestine meetings in multi-storey car parks, but unfamiliar territory for this team.

Has their detour paid off? Well, you certainly can’t fault FEARLESS for scrimping on Big Topical Issues. Starring Helen McCrory as Emma Banville, a successful human rights lawyer famed for taking on particularly difficult cases, it takes in state surveillance, police corruption, tabloid hysteria and Syrian refugees. Bingo!

Chain-smoking Banville’s latest client is a convicted paedophile and murderer who claims his confession was coerced. She believes him, but the case is hardly cut and dry. 

Her reputation as a maverick liberal trouble-maker is an inconvenient barrier to exposing powerful establishment cover-ups, plus she’s haunted by some unspecified childhood trauma, as protagonists in dramas of this nature tend to be.

For Emma Banville, this will be The Toughest Case Of Her Life.

For all its heavy-handed dialogue, clich├ęd beats and ropey performances – Sam Swainsbury as the possibly innocent man and comedian John Bishop as Banville’s husband are glaringly poor – Fearless gets by so far on the intrigue of its central mystery plus strong work from McCrory. But the jury’s still out on Mammoth’s shaky foray into 21st century turmoil.

Curling! Murder! Christian fundamentalism! The aged jowls of John Sessions and Callum Gilhooley! 

You won’t find a more accurate or sobering portrayal of post-Brexit, post-Nessie Scotland than THE LOCH, a fairly enjoyable formulaic crime drama which, unlike Fearless, doesn’t take itself too seriously. 

The recent triumphant return of Twin Peaks reminds me that David Lynch basically invented the oft-copied template of dark, offbeat TV thrillers based in hauntingly beautiful, remote communities.

While The Loch is no Twin Peaks – needless to say, no one involved in this shameless Broadchurch and Happy Valley rip-off is a visionary genius - if only for its wry blend of forensic gore and pretty pictures, it’s a welcome Sunday rival for mouldy old Poldark.

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