My mother spent the majority of her life as an enthusiastic evangelical Christian. For the most part, it was comfortable and felt safe. Leaving the viewer to work out who is telling the truth, and what version of it they are telling, should be catnip to anyone who loves a good mystery.There’s a vivid memory from childhood I have, and I’ve never been able to shake it. I was swept up in the claustrophobia and the theatrics of it all. In a strong, if slightly uneven season, his episode is the standout.Īlthough it has its moments of silliness (I couldn’t hear the line, “Word’s got out, daddy’s a twisted man” without saying it again in the voice of a 1960s pirate radio DJ), Criminal continues to provide a pleasingly fresh take on the police drama. In theory, this should not be the creepiest episode – it is less mysterious and uncertain than the others – but it is chilling to the bone, thanks in large part to Nayyar, who plays it still and steady, until he doesn’t. Nayyar is Sandeep, a businessman serving a life sentence for murdering a woman, who attempts to negotiate with the officers as if conducting a meeting. The pleasure, really, is in the performances, and it saves the best until last. Does she enjoy it? Is she “leading them on” by sending suggestive messages as a 40-year-old woman, pretending to be 14? Why doesn’t she trust the police to do what she feels she has to do? It is a meaty exploration of a thorny modern dilemma, though it does undermine its maturity somewhat with a preposterous soapy twist. ![]() Horgan is fantastic as Danielle, a vigilante – although she would object to that term – who entraps and then exposes paedophiles. This forces the detectives to discuss their own moral and ethical obligations in a way that is not entirely convincing, even if it does add to the heightened staginess of it all. The question posed in each episode is a simple one: who is responsible? But it is posed in all manner of ways and leaves it open to all sorts of interpretations. Such moral murkiness is at the heart of Criminal, and is why it works as well as it does, when it does. ![]() You get the sense, though, that the story would like to be a little more bold, but ends up tying itself in knots in an attempt to be all things to all viewers. He is aggressive and repellent, and Harington delivers that kind of rat-a-tat entitlement with pitch-perfect precision – tapping the table, pointing his finger, speaking with patronising, weary contempt. The biggest talking point will be Harington’s episode, in which the Game of Thrones actor casts off any residual earthy charm to play Alex, a smarmy, slick estate agent who is accused of rape by a junior colleague after a drunken night out. You think it is going one way, then it lurches in another direction, then another, then another, until the detectives home in like a sniper and take their shot. The rapport she builds with Julia leads to unexpected revelations, and the rest of the force have to rethink their approach. Rochenda Sandall is back as Vanessa, a junior conducting the interview in order to gather background information. She is called in to shed some light on the disappearance of another student, Luca, who was booked on a flight to Italy, but never made it home. Okonedo is brilliantly unsettling in the opener as Julia, the wife of a convicted murderer, whose modus operandi involved a penchant for his younger male students. ![]() The two strongest episodes are the bookends.
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