TV Review: THE ESCAPE ARTIST and BEDLAM

This article was originally published in The Courier on 2nd November 2013.

http://www.thecourier.co.uk/lifestyle

The Escape Artist: Tuesday, BBC1

Bedlam: Thursday, Channel 4

Paul Whitelaw

There was a scene near the start of The Escape Artist, a lurid new thriller starring David Tennant as a hotshot barrister, in which our man carefully explained the basics of his profession to a group of inquisitive schoolchildren.

Rarely have I witnessed such a patronising piece of exposition in a drama designed for adults; did writer David Wolstencroft, the creator of Spooks, really assume us ignorant of what a barrister does? Given the sheer preponderance of legal dramas on film and television over the years, I think even the most inattentive viewer must've got the gist of it by now.

That aside, it's an enjoyable penny dreadful in which dynamic barrister Will Burton's belief that everyone deserves a defence came back to haunt him like an army of knife-wielding ghosts. Even when defending some right rum coves, the man nicknamed “The Escape Artist” is renowned for having never lost a case. Recently crowned number one in the What Barrister industry magazine – much to the chagrin of number two, played by Sophie Okenodo - he was almost unbearably successful.

Indeed, Burton was initially depicted as so content in his career and home life – he and loving wife Ashley Jensen enjoyed nothing more than sharing a candlelit bath in their idyllic country cottage – it was simply a matter of waiting for that happiness to be obliterated.

Burton's latest case saw him defending Liam Foyle, a creepy young man charged with brutally murdering a woman. The evidence against Foyle was overwhelming. He kept an aviary in his living room, for heaven's sake, the sort of “quirk” no self-respecting fictional serial killer should be without. It's also the sort of detail leered over by the tabloids, who Wolstencroft, with a faint whiff of hypocrisy, chastised for sensationalising and prejudicing such trials. He's right, they do. But isn't he also gaining capital from exploiting our fascination with serial killers? It's a moral maze, it really is.

In any case, despite Burton's moral qualms about taking on the case, he triumphed once again, almost despite himself, and got Foyle off on a technicality. Inevitably, the action then lurched into Cape Fear territory, as Foyle – Toby Kebbell giving it the full smirking, well-spoken, hair-trigger psychopath treatment – began stalking Burton's brood.

Why? Presumably because Burton wouldn't shake his hand at the close of the trial. They're awfully touchy, serial killers.

The scene in which Foyle appeared at the cottage window while Jensen took yet another relaxing bath was, while predictable, an entertaining jolt. But what followed was a classic piece of horror illogic. After calling the police and confirming the identity of their unwanted visitor, the family travelled back to London. Perhaps they'd be safer there. But no, the following weekend mother and child travelled back to the cottage without protection. Call me a snivelling coward if you will, but I doubt I'd be so lax in that situation.

However, the action soared towards a genuinely shocking crescendo. Burton, running late, arrived at the cottage to discover his wife brutally slain and his petrified child hiding in a trunk. Although some form of disaster was to be expected, killing off a high-profile actress such as Jensen in episode one was a particularly effective twist (Wolstencroft has previous form, of course: Spooks was notorious for killing off major characters with little fanfare).

Tennant, a fine actor, is particularly adept at projecting haunted trauma. The remaining episodes will doubtless allow him plenty of scope to impress.

In the end, the ambitious Okenodo took the rearrested Foyle's case – of course she did, that's how drama works – thus paving the way for an inevitable torrent of moral anguish and ghost train thrills.

A surprisingly sensitive study of mental illness, observational documentary series Bedlam – so titled after the notorious former name of what is now the South London and Maudsley psychiatric institution – opened with a visit to a specialist anxiety unit treating some of Britain's most extreme OCD cases.

The focus rested largely on James, a young man whose life had been capsized by his terror of soiling himself in public. At his worst he spent up to seven hours a day in the bathroom, frantically washing and showering. The candour of the contributions from James and his tired, caring mother were particularly affecting.

Thankfully, this was no pruriently voyeuristic look at a “crazy” ailment – we have more than enough of those on TV already - but rather a poignant and ultimately hopeful portrait of troubled, vulnerable human beings.