Young Detective Constable Anna Travis joins the team led by D.C.I. Langton to investigate a series of gruesome murders of young women, which first began eight years previously. All the ... See full summary »
Young Detective Constable Anna Travis joins the team led by D.C.I. Langton to investigate a series of gruesome murders of young women, which first began eight years previously. All the victims were prostitutes and all killed in the same way. Then a seventh body is found but this is the corpse of a student, though a vital piece of evidence links her death to the others, involving a house in Manchester where Alan Daniels, a popular young actor, grew up. Anna goes undercover to get to know him better but finds herself getting emotionally involved. Written by
don @ minifie-1
I do like a good TV thriller - "Wire In The Blood", James Nesbitt's "Murphy's Law", Sam Ryan-era "Silent Witness" and of course "Inspector Morse" all spring to mind, but this hackneyed "Junior Prime Suspect" re-write failed to overcome its stereotypical characterisation and (with one exception) by-numbers acting to leave a lasting impression.
The plot is very second-hand to these eyes with Kelly Reilly bringing a Jennifer Aniston-type weight (i.e. none at all) to her part following in the big footsteps of her late cop dad, all high-heels and pancake make-up and how she convinces big bad lecherous superior Ciaran Hinds that she can do the job and become "one of the boys".
I for one was sorry to see Hinds reduced to this one-dimensional role, the typical high-ranking chauvinist "guvnor" identifiable from any number of previous LaPlante dramas, who hits on his junior female officer and expects the older females to run after him bringing him tea and sandwiches (no tomatoes!).
You at first think you're watching a whodunit but after you realise there are no other potential suspects on show and remember LaPlante's MO, you merely await the unravelling of abused child-cum famous actor-cum split-personality psychopath at the hands of the doe-eyed Lewis, although said breakdown is superbly conveyed in broad Mancunian by an excellent Jason Durr.
That performance apart this came across to me as very much formulaic fare, with the by now over-familiar LaPlante techniques of split-screen depiction, unimaginative flashback inserting and undramatic cross-cutting of scenes, dumbed down for mass consumption by a writer long overdue an attack of originality.
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