This article was originally published in The Courier on 27th September 2014.
The
Driver: Tuesday, BBC One
Downton
Abbey: Sunday, STV
Paul
Whitelaw
Stories about innocent men thrown to
the slaughter are to the thriller genre what improbable mishaps are
to the world of trouser-dropping farce. Remove these hardy perennials
from either genre and both would collapse like a careless round of
Buckaroo. Hitchcock famously revisited the wrong man theme on several
occasions, thus cementing it as a sturdy template upon which future
generations of screenwriters could hammer their own dents.
So it's unfair to criticise
three-part crime drama The Driver for cleaving to a well-worn
theme. Writer Danny Brocklehurst has every right to chuck another
fictional everyman – in this case, David Morrissey's put-upon taxi
driver, Vince – onto the bonfire for our nail-biting edification.
He's simply carrying on a popular storytelling tradition. No, the
most important thing is that he takes this malleable putty and moulds
it into surprising shapes. And that's where episode one came unstuck.
Unless you've never witnessed a drama
before in your life, Vince's story unfolded much as expected. A
decent man who'd had enough of his dreary suburban existence and
thankless occupation – Brocklehurst made sure to heap as many foul
indignities upon him as possible – Vince was in desperate need of
some excitement. Practically ignored at home, he demanded some
respect and a renewed sense of purpose. Enter his old mate Colin (Ian
Hart). A career criminal just out of jail, Colin offered Vince the
chance to opt out of the rat race, and score big to boot, by becoming
the personal driver/courier for his boss.
Of course, Colin's boss is a
gangster. Not only that, he's a gangster played by Colm Meaney and
nicknamed 'The Horse'. You'd have to be, not so much naïve, as
thunderingly stupid to think that working for a self-made stereotype
with an animal-themed alias was going to be a bed of roses.
When Vince eventually discovered
Colin's violent true colours during a brutal kidnapping, his shock
was matched only by a few million viewers blaring, “Well what did
you expect?!”
Yes, good men are often driven to
desperate measures in dire times of need. Terminally ill Walter White
becoming a criminal kingpin in Breaking Bad to provide for his
family is a grippingly nuanced exploration of this theme. By
comparison, a despondent cabbie getting involved with some wrong 'uns
to pay off the mortgage lacks a certain dramatic heft.
It's frustrating, as having peeked
ahead I can report that The Driver improves in part two, as
Vince's predicament gains more emotional depth. It's just unfortunate
that this rather thin opener, regardless of the typically fine
performances from its leads, did practically nothing that we hadn't
seen before. There are only so many stories, but there are infinite
ways of telling them.
I'll let you into a trade secret:
reviewing Downton Abbey is pointless. Its inherent flaws and
obvious appeal are so self-evident and so widely documented, at this
stage it would be like trying to offer an original critique of
breathing.
It's simply there, still, an
unchanging formula dutifully poured into a decorously-carved goblet
at yearly intervals. Lord Grantham grumbles exposition at breakfast,
Dame Maggie purses sculpted bon mots over luncheon, Carson booms his
wry instructions like a rich tea biscuit awaiting the King's own urn.
It's unique in TV history in that it became a parody of itself almost
instantaneously.
It exists if you want it, like the
current touring version of Level 42. Who honestly cares?
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