A cartoonish caper with the gleeful violence of classic Looney Tunes
Debt
Dalgliesh
Manipulative Max, the corrupt lawyer played with deadpan aplomb by Mark Bonnar in Debt (BBC2)starting to remind me of Wile E. Coyote.
Tricked, tripped, squashed, turned inside out and faced with certain death so many times, he can hardly shrug his shoulders in amazement.
When he and his gullible brother Jake (Jamie Sives) were pushed through an airport doorway expecting to see a taxi stand, and instead found themselves surrounded by thugs, I felt a cartoonish glee at the violence that was sure to follow.
It was as if Max had run off a cliff in full fur and was hanging in the empty air, waiting for gravity to catch up with him.
Gravity did not disappoint. Moments later, Max and Jamie were interrogated by their worst enemy, gangland boss Maggie (Phyllis Logan), and were about to be killed with a cattle stun gun.
Manipulative Max, the corrupt lawyer played with deadpan confidence by Mark Bonnar (left) in Guilt (BBC2), is beginning to remind me of Wile E. Coyote
Like the kind of devices Wile E. tries to use on the Road Runner, it had to be mounted and charged before use. The only thing missing was the Acme Corporation packaging.
Those classic Looney Toons only last a few minutes. The genius of Guilt, written by Neil Forsyth, is that their explosive comedy is spread over a much longer, darker series of episodes.
We constantly wait for the next burst of energy and chaos, and always have faith that somehow the brothers will survive. . . mostly without their dignity, no matter how hard Max tries to maintain it.
And we’re prepared to accept unlikely plot twists like the return from the dead of Edinburgh’s Godfather, Roy Lynch (Stuart Bowman).
The cartoonish element is enhanced by director Patrick Harkins’ cinematic style, which mimics teen comic books. The action began with a tracksuit-clad assassin emerging from the shadows with an outsized furry cat head.
When her antique revolver failed to fire, she led a chase through a high-rise concrete estate before standing in silhouette atop a tower block, like Catwoman, to watch a man be thrown to his death.
Not all the drama is visual. There are details in the script too, like the way Max makes fun of his brother’s girlfriend and calls her Yoko, as if she’s the only reason he and Jake don’t get along. When ‘Yoko’ retaliates by stealing their money and betraying them both to the police, Max is almost amused. He’s Wile E. Coyote. . . what else did he think would happen?
There’s nothing cartoonish, but more than a hint of accidental Carry On Killing, about the 1970s detective mystery Dalgliesh (Ch5)starring Bertie Carvel as PD James’ poetic cop.
There’s nothing cartoonish, but more than a hint of unintentional Carry On Killing, about the 1970s detective mystery Dalgliesh (Ch5), starring Bertie Carvel (pictured) as PD James’ poetic cop
DCI Adam Dalgliesh investigates the murder of a forensic scientist who harbored an unrequited love for the village vampire, Domenica, played by Margaret Clunie.
Domenica was lounging on a couch, smoldering so loudly to the impassive sleuth that she was about to use Fenella Fielding and ask, “Do you mind if I smoke?” — before going up in flames.
Dalgliesh is static and staged, a series of question-and-answer scenes linked by footage of the detective whizzing through the Norfolk landscape in his E-type. But it’s a glossy production with a superior cast, including Deborah Findlay as a cocky housekeeper and Carolina Main as a resentful poor family.
We have to accept that Dalgliesh is brilliant for writing poetry, and Carvel’s understated performance adds little to that. The way is open for his sidekick, DS Kate Miskin (Carlyss Peer), to steal the show, and she’s working hard at it with her abrasive, hard interview style.
That’s a lot more fun than listening to the DCI read at literary evenings.