Poirot: The Dream

 "I am too understanding towards my employees!"

I may have been somewhat ambivalent towards this series- despite some solid acting and well-developed characters for a whodunit series- the scripts have been somewhat variable in quality, and I suspect that Agatha Christie's detective story talents lend themselves more to a longer format than the short stories upon which these stories are based. I shall, one day, return to Poirot.

Ot's pleasing, though, for the series to finish upon such a high. I love how the creative introduction to Farleys Foods via the nostalgia hit of British Pathe leads to a succession of scenes showing us how Benedict Farley is an old Victorian industrialist bastard who sneers at unions and is rude as hell. His thick glasses and muttonchops, surely an affectation in the much more modern 1935, mark him out as the pantomime villain he is, even sacking his daughter's lover for being too non-U.

The murder mystery is playfully clever, with Joely Richardson's character being almost metatextual in how she declares herself to Poirot to be so obviously guilty that she must surely be the red herring. I love, also, how Poirot has a comical moment of crisis with the Belguan sleuth equivalent of writer's block and the comical B plot with Miss Lemon's typewriter.

When I return tom Poirot, let's have more like this... but longer episodes, please. Until then, adieu.

Poirot: The King of Clubs

 "Dear oh dear! Here we go again..."

This is one of those stories with a very Agatha Christie twist about the very murder itself. It feels well-executed. It's well-acted and well-produced. Yet, once again, despite all this plus the very palpable period richness, it somehow isn't anywhere close to being as satisfying as, say, the Granada Sherlock Holmes.

It's clever, yes, but in a very clockwork, very typical Agatha Christie way. I suppose, being from a ahort story as all this series is- suggesting this format is not deal- this is inevitable, and perhaps explains why I feel so lukewarm about a firt series that,objectively speaking, seems to have much to recommend it.

Neverthleless... it's a nice glimpse into the film industry in the 1930s,with more than usual period charm. There is, again, a nicely judged ense that Japp, although Poirot may run rings around him, is nevertheless a seasoned and competent professional who is, alas, not a genius.

It's an entertaining and well-made fifty minutes, I suppose. Buta certain spark is missing,

Poirot: The Incredible Theft

 "No, no, no, Hastings! Women do not want to talk about Berninis and cubic thingummies!"

This episode was... actually pretty bloody good. By far the best yet.

It's a twist on that old detective story standby as epitomised by Conan Doyle's The Naval Treaty, where top secret plans are stolen.It's quite an interesting setting for such a story- the 's, with Hitler and Mussolini causing trouble and an arms race in full swing with the spectre of war looming while all this between-the-wars existence of country houses and passing the port carries on regardless.

The script and dialogue, far more than usually, are witty and fun, and the cleverness of the plot is fun in its own intricate way, not so much a whodunit as a devilishly clever howdunit with more than one big double bluff.  

All this, and the characterisation of Poirot, Hastings, Miss Lemon and Japp is in full swing by this point. I enjoyed this. At this rate I may even return to do the second series after this one. We'll see.

Poirot: Problem at Sea

 "One cannot hurry the little grey cells, captain."

This is another decent episode, not only as a whodunit which works well and does so in a shrt format but, for once, also as a drama. The poor murder does the deed because he is a vivtim of what we would today call coercive control. None of the characters, in 1935, would have used the phtrase, but they all knew damn well what was going on.

It's all nicely done. All the characters behave like real people with real motives and, again, 1935 feels not quite so long ago, despite the inevitable casual racism of the characters as they wander around the Alexandria of King Fuad. Yet, despite some differences in social mores, these people are not so different from ourselves, if somewhat posher on the whole.

The summing up is the best yet, as showman Poirot has a little fun with ventriloquism. This still is not exactly my favourite television drama, but it has its moments.

Poirot: The Third Floor Flat

 "Birds do not run, Hastings."

Again, we have an episode that is rather clever. What initially looks like a murder with a dearth of suspects ends up having a rather clever and satisfying resolution, all being resolved in a classic summing up by Poirot, with added car chase. Suchet is excellent, yet again, with our four regulars being well-characterised by the use of plenty of gentle humour.

Yet there's also a clever bit of fun with the fourth wall as Hastings takes a hypochondriac Poirot to a whodunit play, and our esteemed Belgian gets the killer wrong, proceeding to criticise the author for blatantly failing to adhere to Father Ronald Knox's famous rules of detective fiction, something of which Agatha Christie can never be accused of doing without justification.

Again, too, the 1930s are a fascinating period. Things look and seem modern much of the time, but people living in upmarket flats will typically have a maid, while what passes for popular music is pre-rock 'n' roll and so utterly alien. I'm not sure I'll be blogging the second series any time soon, but I'm enjoying this first series more than I expected at first.

Poirot: Four and Twenty Blackbirds

 "Cricket. The English enigma. I know not of any other game where even the players are unsure of the rules."

This is rather good, perhaps the best episode far, and not just for seeing the novelty of Jim Branning from EastEnders as an attendant in the gents. I'm warming more to the little character quirks of Suchet's Poirot- the seriousness with which he takes his food, and his subtle humour.

The story is quite clever too, even if I twigged straight away that the change in Henry Gascoigne's eating habits was explained away by an impostor. There are a pleasing number of twists and turns, and for once there's some nicely judged and amusing character moments. There's a nice little guest spot from Hilary Mason as a stern housekeeper, and nice nods to Japp's embrace of deductive science- no Lestrade he- and the relaxed friendship between the two of them and Hastings.

The period continues to fascinate- the social attitudes, the cars, the clothes, the art, the architecture.

I may be getting into this series a little. May.

Poirot: The Adventure of Johnnie Waverley

 "See also under marriage?"

Well, after an improvement last episode... we have another disappointment. At this stage we're looking at one good episode from the first three. Not a good strike rate.

This isn't terrible; it's good telly. David Suchet is excellent, as is Philip Jackson as the nicely relatable and believable Chief Inspector Japp.Beyond that, however, we are struggling. The guest cast are ok in their functional roles, but Hugh Fraser really is appallingly silly as Captain Hastings.

And the plot, with its big reveal, doesn't work here. This may have worked better in print, but I for one worked out what was going on long before it was revealed, and that isn't usual for me. Yes, the clues were fair and it all worked like clockwork, but it was all a little transparent; so much for Agatha Christie's unique selling point.

Sigh. I'llcarry on until at least the end of the season...

Poirot: Murder in the Mews

 "Well, I should think it's a jolly good night for a murder."

Ok, that was better.

No snobbishly depicted working class characters here to remind me of what rubs me up the wrong way about Agatha Christie, and Poirot comes across as a more interesting and nuanced character.The Thirtes period detail is on point, and fascinating; an age where interior decor seems so much more contemporary that just a couple of decades earlier.

Yet none of that is the point- our second episode finally gives us one of Christie's signature clever twists,and it is this that gives the episode its glory. We have our first proper summing up by Poirot at the end, and all the clues are presented fairly to us. Interestingly, we see Inspector Japp's methods here. He's no Lrestrade r Gregson, but a professional with an eye for detail; he simply lacks Poirot's intuitive leaps.

I'm relieved to have enjoyed that. Perhaps I shall enjoy this series after all.

Poirot: The Adventure of the Clapham Cook

 "Ah, the stewed peaches! Quite!"

I've done the Granada Sherlock Holmes; why not make a leisurely start to Thames' Poirots? Incidentally, the Thames indent at the start gave me a nice nostalgic rush. ITV was a proper channel before the franchises were ruined in '91...

I've gone on record as saying I'm not an enormous fan of Agatha Christie. Her plots are as clever as their reputation, but she's a snob, and her prose and characterisation are not great. She is, in short, no Margery Allingham. However, I confess that my reasing of her novels, while extensive, was (ahem) a quarter of a century ago. I ought to revist one at some point.

However, I have to say that this episode bears out my prejudices somewhat. It's a well-made bit of telly, but the story upon which it is based is full of one-dimensional domestic servants and generally superficial characters. I suspect part of the reason this annoys me more than the Sherlock Holmes stuff is simply that, unlike the late Victorian setting of the other programme, this is set quite clearly in the 1930s, and the cars, clothing and general "look" are far less alien and more modern-looking, at least if one happens (just about) to remember a pre-digital world. There are no Hansom Cabs here. Also, the murder mystery is fine, but nothing special.

However, David Suchet is very good, and the woodenness of Hugh Fraser as Hastings probably owes as much to the character as the actor. I'll persevere, at least for a season.

Edge of Darkness: Part 6- Fusion

"You can't die alone, Ronnie..."

"Why not? We all do, you know."

The final episode, at last. As with previous episodes, it very much feels as though a single viewing is not enough to glean what lurks within these fifty crafted minutes. Most interestingly, though, is that this final episode barely goes through the motions of being a thriller, again introducing a variation f James Lovelock's Gaia theory- will we, as Grogan (coded as a villain) transcend our Earth and move to colonise the Solar System (perhaps less likely now than it may have seemed in 1985), or will our continued pillaging of our planet see our Earth mother strangle us in our cradle with the black flowers we see in the final shot? The answer is as uncertain as Craven's fate, but he is ultimately doomed. Are we? Emma's ghost seems to imply that humanity had a sapient predecessor, swallowed by thsoe black flowers.

We get to explore the personal complexities of Jedburgh here, but again we are not spoon fed. He's a man with a death drive, yes, but he is at once sensitive and intelligent while cynical and worldly wise. Is he an environmental idealist, deep down? It's left, I think, deliberately ambiguous. Just like the future, and just like the historical currents in this chaotic world of ours, where the twin false gods of Marxism and market fundamentalism have in turn tried to impose a determinism and teleology which does not exist.

It's a downbeat ending, one that refuses to be neat and makes clear, to Harcourt's shock, that the activities at Northmoor were always sanctioned by the powers that be. Nuclear power exists. We live in a plutonium world. How long we can last is up to us. This isn't as easy, pleasant or enjoyable to watch as previous episodes, but art doesn't have to be any of those things. Sublime.

Edge of Darkness: Part 5- Northmoor

“To know is to die..."

The above quote, from the ever-mercurial and ever-unknowable Jedburgh, one of the most fascinating characters in television history, seems to illustrate a point: knowledge brings us death, whether the radiation thereof is literal or metaphorical. Shades of the myth of Adam and Eve there. Yet we understand why Craven's need to know exceeds his need to live- but what of Jedburgh, who knows this may be a suicide mission? While both seem to survive- Jedburgh with the plutonium- their life expectancy is likely to be much shortened.

This episode marks an extraordinary change of focus- yes, there are the scenes of the parliamentary committee to remind us of a wider, and contested, context, but the whole episode is shaped around our two protagonists retracing the steps of Emma (who doesn't appear- she no longer needs to?) and GAIA, while being tracked by those with no qualms about killing them. It's very much shot to emphasise the constant danger, discomfort and horror. Even the bunker, with its vintage wine and luxuries, feels like a cruel joke.

Interestingly, our protagonists are both acting, intentionally or not, on behalf of spooks on both sides of the pond. But ultimately this penultimate episode reveals less of the plot than expected, even as it reveals what is physically at Northmoor. Meaning and context can wait- but will the final episode give us that? Extraordinary and unpredictable telly, playing to no one's rules.

Edge of Darkness: Part 4- Breakthrough

“Well, bodies kept turning up in the bunkers, and you needed air support to play out of the rough. Kinda puts you off your game."

My, this is getting very deep indeed in terms of plot, psychology and subtext. Nothing I say here will do much more than scratch the surface, but suffice to say that this is masterfully crafted stuff.

Craven is back at home, and almost killed by McCroon, the suspect, for banal reasons of revenge. Yet there's more to this, and not just in one way. Yes, there's the fact that someone gave McCroon the information and resources he needed, but there's also the dirty tricks that took place in Northern Ireland, and Craven's own hands are very much dipped in the blood; he personally recruited informers who were subsequently dropped and allowed to be offed by the Provos. This is, to say the least, no less dishonourable than the other political games going on.

There's the genuine question over Craven's mental state, as much is driven by the presence of Emma's ghost inside his head. Then there's the mercurial Jedburgh, whose entire outward personality is a performance. Who is he, underneath? He's not just eccentric- he seems extraordinarily sanguine about the apparent recent death in El Salvador (the series oozes with '80s current affairs), and his loyalties may not just be to his CIA employers. Are we convinced by the explanation he gives Craven for co-founding GAIA?

Eventually, in a very exciting sequence, Craven gets to hack a very 1980s IT network and get a little more information- not least a map of Northmoor. He also gets Godbold to spread the beans- and, while hopelessly in hock to the nuclear industry, he was in fact Emma's man on the inside- and lets slip that the killers almost certainly suspected Craven of fulfilling that role. This is already a complex web, and a compelling one. Plus, it seems, Craven and Jedburgh are going to retrace Emma's terrorist steps.

Excellent stuff. I raised an eyebrow, however, when Craven was told that you "don't say no" to a Commons select committee or "they lock you up". Someone should tell that to Dominic Cummings.

Edge of Darkness: Part 3- Burden of Proof

"I don't believe in the conspiracy theory of history."

This episode may perhaps be, again, less obviously artistic than the first and even more so than the second and, by now, deeply engrossed and, indeed, engrossing in the unravelling of the complex yet clearly narrated plot, but that is achieved without sacrificing either characterisation or verbal wit. This is still extraordinary, even sublime television, three episodes in.

Bob Peck is again, well, deservedly BAFTA-winning in how he portrays deep emotion and bereavement in a restrained man. Craven may be seen, by the end, by his boss as in need of help over his seeming obsession with deeper conspiracies behind Emma's death, but he is simultaneously seen by Harcourt and Pendleton, those nebulous spooks, as a credible witness for their plans to somehow nobble Bob Bennett, whom they suspect of killing Emma. Craven refuses them, of course, being the decent father that he is, but this goes to illusrate that things are not as they seem. The Texan act of the ever-thinking Jedburgh is, as H and P point out, an act. He's a fascinating, deep and nuanced character, hiding beneath both a stereotype and a supposed political standpoint, yet according to Clemmie he co-founded GAIA, an environmental organisation he now loudly derides as terrorists? With him, there are layers to unpeel.

It's odd, and disturbing, to learn of Craven's intimate, touchy-feely interrogation techniques with Lowe, but then it's established that he's a sex offender. Godbolt again pops up, looking anxious to deny things And Terry, Emma's erstwhile boyfriend, is murdered in the bath after giving Craven a clue. The plot thickens, as always. And there are far too many nuances to recount the plot. Suffice to say, I'm gripped.

If this all reads as the work of a drunk person, well, I'm forty-three today, and I've just finished a bottle of rather good Chilean Cabernet. Burp. Stay at home. Beat coronavirus with good wine. That is all.