THE FALL (BBC2)
“Do you realise the effect you have on men?” asks Gillian Anderson’s boss and former lover, part in awe at her supposedly rampant sexiness and part in admonition of her predilection for casual coitus.
“Yes,” she says.“I can freeze-dry their libidos at sixty paces.”
Actually she doesn’t say that, she just gives him the chilly Lady-Dedlock-from-Bleak-House glare that is her default expression in all five episodes of this galactically over-rated attempt to replicate Nordic noir in Belfast. But if she had said it, she’d have been more honest and truthful than this tripe.
It featured a serial killer who was professional and intelligent, for a start. Have you ever seen those US docs about serial killers in jail? Mutant rednecks to a man. But outside horror films they don’t make good TV. It also featured just about everything else that’s bad about British TV. A script so thin it was probably printed on rice paper, stock characters from the catalogue, every clich in sight, and an ending that I had to watch twice to be sure it was as bad as I feared.
It’s not surprising that over just five episodes it was impossible to develop plot and character. Most proper TV-makers take about 13 episodes, Auntie. Just so you know.