Des: Episode 3

 "I could never have stopped..."

And it ends with a highly dramatic and entertaining courtroom drama, with twists and turns throughout until we reach the relief of the guilty verdict, a majority (but not all) of the jury rejecting Nielsen's claims of diminished responsibility.

Yet there's more to it that that. This is a deeply ethical episode of television that focuses heavily on the suffering of the victims, and those who mourn them. Neither we nor Peter Jay can fault the anger of the widow who's ex is not getting justice. Then there's Carl, a deeply traumatised survivor, who endures vile homophobic abuse not only outside the court but inside the witness box.

Also, though, it becomes disturbingly clear how Nilsen is controlling the whole narrative, despite the outcome, everything proceeding on his terms, including his acceptance of the verdict. And it's satisfying to see Brian Masters not only come to realise this, but to assert control in how he frames his biography, firmly stating that it's not about Nilsen's ego, but a "warning".

Nilsen may be charming when he wants to be, he may be unassuming. He may quote Cervantes. But he's also a deeply controlling monster who destroyed lives and caused untold suffering. This drama, and this final episode, examine this superbly and tastefully.

And, yet again, David Tennant is magnificent.

Des: Episode 2

 "Death gives no refunds..."

Yes, I know, I don't usually blog the same programme on consecutive days, but this time I have, so nyeeer. Something different next time, though, I promise!

Another superb bit of telly here, and another superlative performance from David Tennant, adding further layers. Dennis Nilsen is still the paradoxical monster with principles from last episode, yet this time he's more sinister and controlling... indeed, a very controlling man, co-operating (or not) on his own terms. It was he who complained about his drains in the first place, wanting to be caught: he's been trying to curate the whole thing. And then the curveball at the end, as the trial begins and he unexpectedly tries to plead not guilty.

Yet at the same time he's... well, DI Peter Jay describes him to the press as "unassuming". And this is nevertheless a man who loves his dog. Brian Masters uncovers certain things about Nilsen's past for his book (a real book, which no doubt garnered many extra sales from this series), but quite rightly resists the urge to draw conclusions. And Masters' own motives eventually become clear: the definitive book on Nilsen's crimes must come from within the gay community in such deeply homophobic times.

The other cause of conflict here is Peter's desire to identify all fifteen victims and the reality that the police are a public service like any other and must justify their costs. With six victims identified... six murders will put Nilsen behind bars forever. It's the right decision, awful though it is, to end the investigation there. But, after they identify a seventh victim too late to prosecute, we see the human cost as Peter has to explain this to the devastated widow. This series refuses to glamorise the killer and puts the victims first, always.

If anything, this episode is even better than the first. Very impressive indeed.

Des: Episode 1

 "How didn't we know?"

The first thing to say about this dramatisation of the investigation into the appalling crimes of Dennis Nilsen is that David Tennant is utterly spellbinding as this calm, seemingly ordinary and unassuming, polite and even cultured man who committed fifteen violent murders. The character is, of course, fascinating- a disarmingly articulate, thoughtful monster, by no means without compassion for his victims ("This bloody government does nothing for them"), with an integrity of sorts and determined to assist the police in unearthing the truth as well as he can, even to the point of dismissing his solicitor. And yet... a monster.

Yet also at fault is the harsh, uncaring nature of London in the early 1980s. Far from its roads being paved with gold, it sucks in the young and vulnerable, exploits and abuses them... to the point where fifteen young men can disappear and not be missed.

Also interesting is DI Peter Jay (it annoys me that the programme has journalists address him as "detective" rather than "inspector", which didn't and doesn't happen in the UK, especially as the attention to detail seems very good), a very human copper whose wife won't let him see his kids seemingly for no good reason. And then there's Jason Watkins' interesting Brian Masters, who seems not only fascinated by this young serial killer but determined to understand him.

A promising start, then, very wisely showing everything from the point of view of the investigation. Yet the moment that lingers in the mind is one of deep humanity, as Stephen Sinclair's parents learn the unthinkable truth of what happened to their son. And that's this episode's big strength- that focus on humanity over sensationalism.

Doctor Who: The Idiot's Lantern

“I am talking!”

“And I’m not listening!”


The teaser gives us some dialogue about television rotting your brain and ends with it seemingly about to happen to this Magpie chap- how very metatextual.

The Doctor and Rose exit the TARDIS all dresses up for Elvis at Las Vegas, complete with Vespa, and discover they are in fact in London, 1953. It’s a good joke but it immediately highlights one of the unfortunate things about the story; Britain in the ‘50s seems to have been a rather visually dull place (or so popular culture and documentary footage leads me to believe) and unfortunately come off on screen as exactly that. It’s one of a couple of things which prevent what is in fact an excellent script from coming off as well as it deserves.

It’s established early on that there’s an unpleasant undercurrent in the Connolly family. The balance is struck about right, with an emphasis on Eddie Connolly’s controlling tendencies rather than any actual physical violence. Lines such as “Forget that college nonsense” are effective enough. It’s also an interesting look back from, inevitably, a modern perspective at some of the assumptions and prejudices of the ‘50s English working class: the underlying homophobia; the suspicion of education; the obsession with “what the neighbours think”. It’s just a pity that the performances here are somewhat weak.

In fact, Tennant and Piper aside, the only performance to really impress here is that of Maureen Lipman as the Wire, whose delivery of her lines is fantastic. This is a great idea for a villain, although the name “The Wire” now instantly makes me think of McNulty and Bubble and Omar, which it certainly didn’t do at the time.

It all rattles along very quickly and it’s good fun, which is pretty much down to the script, although not always realised effectively. The big reveal of the grandmother with no face should in theory have been the dramatic centrepiece of the episode, but there’s something in the execution which doesn’t quite come off. There are some well-constructed scenes, such as the reversal of roles between the Doctor and the Detective Inspector and the scene in which Eddie Connolly is revealed to have been an informer; suddenly, his authority ebbs away and his wife gains the courage to reject him, seeming a lot happier and more confident afterwards. But the strength of the writing never seems to translate effectively to the screen, and I’m not sure why.

The ending’s very effective- a bit like Logopolis, only better- and I like the effect of a television switching off as the Wire dies. Death by Betamax, indeed. I suppose the question of the social stigma surrounding divorce at the time is brushed under the carpet somewhat as Rita and Eddie Connolly are obviously separating, but given the context and the light-hearted nature of the episode it feels right that it should be that way.

The script really deserves better- it could even have got a 5/5 with better performances- but overall I can’t really give this more than a 3/5.