http://www.scotsman.com/lifestyle/tv-and-radio/tv-preview-the-fall-frankie-the-suspicons-of-mr-whicher-1-2925907
THE
FALL
Monday,
BBC2, 9pm
FRANKIE
Tuesday,
BBC1, 9pm
THE
SUSPICIONS OF MR WHICHER
Sunday,
STV, 8pm
Paul
Whitelaw
“Hello.
Is that J. Jameson Spotlight, big-shot representative of famed
actress Gillian Anderson?”
“Yeah.
Whaddya want?”
“I
have a part she may be interested in. It's an aloof, icy, enigmatic
professional whose emotional distance causes...”
“She'll
do it.”
Now:
I'm not suggesting that Anderson is a one-note actress. Her ethereal
performance as Miss Havisham in the BBC's 2011 adaptation of Great
Expectations proved she's more than capable of playing something
other than emotionally withdrawn maidens. But it's true that she's
frequently typecast as glacial beauties who shrink from matters of
the heart.
And
so it is in THE FALL,
an absorbing five-part thriller in which she casts her inscrutable
gaze over the gloomy streets of Belfast, in search of an elusive
serial killer. Yet despite initial suspicions that this is Anderson
on autopilot, she gradually reveals an enjoyably arch and self-aware
approach to the role of DSI Stella Gibson. It's an astute match of
performer and part.
Called
in to review an ongoing investigation into an unsolved murder, Gibson
quickly connects it to the subsequent death of another young
professional woman. So far, so-so. But the twist in The Fall
is that we know who did it. Like Columbo, it reveals the
identity of the killer upfront, thus turning it into a suspenseful
“Howcatchem” rather than a traditional “Whodunnit”.
Our
villain in this case operates along the Norman Bates principle: a
good-looking, outwardly normal young man who happens to be a
psychopathic murderer. Married with two young children, Paul Spector
(a subdued, intensely creepy performance from Jamie Dornan) is an
unsettling creation who feels far more dangerous than the zany
lunatics who usually dominate this landscape.
While
the director is perhaps slightly overfond of darkly ironic
juxtaposition, the switching back and forth between Gibson's
investigation and Spector's double-life plays out very effectively.
Both desensitised and diligent - “You and I are very much alike, Mr
Bond!” - they're a compelling double-act who never share the
screen.
Despite
some fleetingly silly moments – the serial killer genre practically
demands them – this a relatively understated production boasting a
ring of authenticity. The minimal use of incidental music is a
notable, welcome touch. However, the suffocating scenes of violence
against women are arguably gratuitous, and I can't say I feel
entirely comfortable with them. That they appear in a largely
female-led drama (written by a man) merely compounds the sense of
unease.
That
caveat aside, its an addictive, twist-ridden study of grief,
obsession and identity (or: a grisly thriller that's read a few
books). Boosted by uniformly fine performances, it's Anderson's
subtly eccentric turn as the outwardly emotionless, alpha-female
Gibson which suggests The Fall has the potential to run beyond
a mere five episodes.
The
female protagonist in FRANKIE is practically Gibson's polar
opposite. Indeed, it's possible to glean whole seconds of fun from
imagining these two characters awkwardly attempting to relate to each
other (Gibson wouldn't bother, Frankie would overcompensate). Played
by Torchwood star Eve Myles, she's a winsomely fun-loving
district nurse who gets her kicks from singing along loudly to her
car radio, and dancing around sassily in the kitchen. She may as well
have “I'm mad, me!” stencilled on her forehead.
Like
one of those Here Come the Girls Boots ads with added medical
trauma, Frankie combines excruciating whimsy with
well-intentioned attempts to explore human dilemmas via the dedicated
exploits of an overworked NHS professional. And that's partly the
problem: would even the busiest district nurse deal with so much
dramatic incident over the course of a few days? I'm all for
suspending disbelief, but Frankie comes across as a sort of feisty
superhero with a heart of gold.
Its
main saving grace is the charm of Myles, an appealing, believable
actress whose natural warmth tends to compensate for the material
she's lumbered with. This, remember, is a woman who survived ghastly
episodes of Torchwood written by Chris “Redeemed himself
with Broadchurch”
Chibnall. But even she can't override supposedly funny yet
cringe-inducing lines such as “I laugh at cutbacks! I sneer at
them!” At one point a loveable old man with Alzheimer's says her
profession is a funny one. “Well, I'm a funny sort of woman,”
she winks. True, Frankie, you're bonkers.
In
fairness, the Alzheimer's storyline is handled fairly well, and
Frankie isn't depicted as entirely perfect. Her saviour
complex is shown to have a detrimental effect on her private life,
although her boyfriend, played by Dean Lennox Kelly, is such a
nuisance, she'd be better off in the arms of her male nurse colleague
(Scots actor Derek Riddell, with whom Myles shares an engaging
chemistry).
The
criminally underexposed Olivia Colman crops up in THE SUSPICIONS
OF MR WHICHER, the second candlelit drama based on the real-life
exploits of the pioneering Victorian detective. Paddy Considine is on
reliable form as the troubled, upstanding Whicher, as he investigates
the murder of Colman's runaway niece in Jack the Ripper London. It's
a mildly diverting mystery, marred by a ludicrous contrivance in the
final act. Also, fans of the Olivia Colman Crying Game are advised to
imbibe sensibly.
