The Killing on BBC4 has finally ended with more twists, turns, somersaults and surprises than Ed Miliband trying to explain why Labour cuts are better than Tory cuts. Needless to say, I, 'Sherlock Hercule' Duff, the greatest detective in, er, this study, applied my 'little grey cells' and provided you all with the identity of the culprit weeks ago. Back on the 16th February I wrote:
Personally, I have my eye on that foreman chap who works for the dead girl's father.
Never liked the cut of his jib, old boy, shifty around the eyes, don't you know! Yes, it's that sort of shrewd, insightful thinking which has got me where I am today - sorry, I didn't quite catch that . . .
Anyway, don't ask me to explain the various plot lines, I was lost weeks ago. There seems to me to be, so to speak, a number of 'hanging chads' but quite frankly I was so exhausted last night I couldn't work them all out. The good news is that there is a second series on its way. I do hope it will feature the same lady detective whom I can only describe as the 'mostest with the leastest', by which I mean that she had very few lines to speak but gradually and inexorably she grew before our eyes into an almost monstrous, monosyllabic, unstoppable machine which slowly but surely minced up all those around her, the loved and the unloved, as she pursued her quest to find the killer. The only problem, I suppose, is that part of the tension in the series arose from watching her destroy, one by one, her entire family and and her lover, but now she has no-one left. It was an unforgettable performance and I cannot applaud the writers, directors and the actress loudly enough for avoiding the sentimental tantrums and flare ups which a second-rate show would have felt was necessary. Her controlled, cold, not to say, glacial, exterior was exactly right and only the slight twitch of a jaw muscle or a quick turn away was needed to show us the torment she was feeling inside as one by one she sacrificed those close to her in her relentless pursuit of the killer.
Perhaps the most overtly upsetting theme in the series was the Larsen family. Shattered by the murder of their daughter, slowly their private life was stripped bare and we saw the guts of a family with all its wounds laid open. Theiss, the father, a magnificent, tragic figure, was nearly brought down early on but gradually clawed his way back up only to be felled in the last episode. Another cheer for the producers who refused a sentimental ending and a double cheer for the actor and actress concerned who were simply terrific. Similarly, the parallel political plot-line ended with a nice, bitter, little dollop of cynical truth for us all to swallow before we went to bed!
Next week, I gather, we are to be offered a French thriller series so I must set up that nice magic-box-thingie that my mate 'Rupe' gave me. I hope it is good enough to fill the achingly empty weeks ahead before we get the next Danish series back again.
Well done, BBC4!