Inspector Morse: The Secret of Bay 5B

 "We were just saying you look very, um, off duty tonight..."

Inspector Morse, somehow more than any television programme of the era, beautifully evokes the many little nuances of the UK in the late 1980s. The cars. The telephones. The fact that middle aged people, the age I am now, would never be seen in jeans and t-shirt. The casual sexism. The existence of the stay-at-home housewife. Middle aged people speaking a kind of received pronunciation that these days is the preserve only of the very old. And, indeed, the lack of CCTV in multi-storey car parks.

The story, perhaps more than most in this third series, is nicely and subtly done. We build a picture of the murdered man- successful, arrogant, a womniser with no poetry in his soul- the polar opposite of Morse who, curmudgeon that he is, continues to pursue a rather sweet romance with Dr Russell, very much not the sort of thing one may expect of the cruder Morse of the novels.

The twists at the end, just at the point where it seems we may have run out of road, are very clever indeed- and it's nice that certain points are made subtly, with no need to force feed the viewer. Sex, greed, blackmail, fury, passion... it's all here. Life is messy, complicated, often dark... yet there is also art, music and good real ale. Morse's is a melancholy world, but not one without its comforts. Much like our own, perhaps.

Inspector Morse: The Last Enemy

 "Dr. Kerridge! We are trying to master the Veleta!"

Nearly a year and a half seem to have gone by since the last time I blogged Inspector Morse. I won't be blogging them that often, but I ought to be getting through the series at a faster pace than that. Ahsoka tomorrow, probably. 

Anyway, good episode as ever, again not from a novel but from an idea by Colin Dexter. This is almost the Platonic ideal of an Inspector Morse episode, I suppose. It's all about arrogant, ambitious Oxford academics sceming against each other while being well-read, rather snobbish and drinking spirits at all times of the day.

Ah, the 1980s. 1989 doesn't feel that long ago- I was twelve- but, as I've remarked before, we have desks without computers, people in the streets wearing suits in away that doesn't happen today, and Morse whingeing about the word processor beginning to challenge the almighty typewriter... while pining for a proper fountain pen with a bottle of ink. Everyone is "Mr", "Mrs" or "Miss", where first names would be used today. It was a long time ago, yet in many respects it wasn't.

There are some splendid turns from the guest cast, and both Kevin Whateley and Amanda Hillwood impress. Yet John Thaw once again excels as the complex man that is Morse, a man who is only slightly older than I am now...

Inspector Morse: The Ghost in the Machine

 "You'll never get on if you can't master your subjunctives!"

This is, if I recall correctly, only the second episode of Inspector Morse, beginning its third series, not to be adapted from a novel by Colin Dexter- although it's based on his idea- and thus to be a script developed directly for television.

It shows.This episode is not particularly atypical, but it is the finest so far. It is, admittedly, helped by a dazzlingly charismatic performance by the sublime Patricia Hodge as (spoilers!) a very human murderer who hides behind aristocratic iciness. It's an episode with a pleasingly intricate plot and- always important, and what the likes of Agatha Christie neglect- excellent characterisation. Unlike Christie, both Colin Dexter and Morse himself were not born with silver spoons in their mouths, as many ordinary RP native speakers are not, and Morse's contempt for the aristocracy, I'm sure, reflects that of Dexter. And the irony of his snobbery- particularly foregrounded here- of Lewis' Geordie origins, whereas he is, of course from a fine part of the world. Not like them Mackems who, I'm told, are oiks.

The twists and turns are splendid. So are Clifford Rose and Patsy Byrne. But Patricia Hodge is truly extraordinary in what is the finest Morse yet.