Created by: Colin Bateman. And here we are, on the third anniversary of this blog, and I couldn’t resist the poetry of finally finishing the series that marked my inaugural post. When I first had the idea for the blog, I spent many months coming close to making my first post. I had some thoughts on Drive that I wanted to share, and that was going to be my first post. And then time passed, and I saw The Escapist, and that was going to be my first post. And on and on it went, until finally, I had a TV series, and one I wasn’t particularly keen on, and not even the beginning of the series, it was the second go-around. The completist in me was very unhappy with the choice (and still is), but I needed to start this damn blog somewhere, so there it was. It’s been 3 years. I still don’t know why I do this, but it remains what it always was: an exercise in my own brain, an ongoing prompting to articulate (to whatever meager extent I do articulate) my thoughts and externalize them through the paradox of the internet—infinitely far-reaching and overwhelmingly anonymous at the same time, like pissing in the ocean. But apparently, to my perpetual disbelief, some people enjoy reading these things sometimes, and that’s an added bonus. I’m not sure why I wanted to reflect on this anniversary (I believe 3 years is the velcro anniversary), but here it is.
Now, the actual show. As you may have noticed from my other posts, or just from watching the show, this isn’t that great a show. I’m mildly enthralled with it, though, for a few basic and unapologetic reasons: it’s a gritty British crime drama, and I like those as a rule. Anything that gives me a little dose of modern, messy, depraved British society, anything that lets me hear a bunch of different accents, especially if there’s cops and robbers involved, already has my interest. This show definitely always took an already-cliched formula and didn’t shy from embracing the cliches: a maverick cop who plays by his own rules because he’s a broken man inside because the rotten modern world has made him broken inside and his own flaws lead him to continually let down everyone around him and cost him a lot of blood on his hands which feeds into his bitter self-righteousness but he’s always proven to be justified in the end because his hunches and intuition are more valuable than all the “police procedure” and all the “laws” in the world. Series 5 basically re-hashes that formula again, but it does so in a delightfully concise, admirably British format—3 episodes of an hour long each. It’s a movie told in segments, and for that reason, this is a really enjoyable, concise season. And of all the seasons, Nesbitt’s clownish, overdone histrionics are perhaps at their most restrained in this one (until the over-the-top climax). There’s not much point in critiquing this stuff, though. I liked it, I watched it, I enjoyed it. If this isn’t your poison, then move along. Plenty of other shit to look at.