Re-watched the entire first series of Broadchurch if only to see if I’d be less iffy about its last few minutes, which I found, the first time, to be lacking in the necessary gravitas considering the nature of its shocking reveal, but realize now that the confused fumbling for normalcy was appropriate given the nature of its milieu, and realize, too, that the reason it hit me hard emotionally, then and now, was that I grew up in a similar environment, and still live in one, and the "dull, beautiful" idyll that gets shattered is something I find comfort in falling back on but know now, more than ever, could very well not exist. Despite my mild discomfort at how the back stories felt a little over-plotted, particularly David Tennant’s Alec Hardy, this is good stuff.
Tennis, Mean Streets
"Stay on your own, or leave it alone… "
With the crucial reveals done with a third of the way in, the penultimate episode of True Detective could now concentrate on what it was really about, Cohle and Hart making up for lost time. Had they hung out and shot the breeze for the rest of it, all languor and small talk, Rio Bravo-style, I’d have been satisfied. At some point, perhaps out of some empathy with the claustrophobia and solitude that has become the rest of their lives ("Father Time has his way with us all”) , I actually didn’t care who the Yellow King was anymore, which I suppose reinforces what Pizzolatto has always been saying about the show, that it was, as the title implies, about the detectives and never the mystery. (And that they are now resuming the investigation as private eyes sort of makes them “true detectives” in a sense, freed of the knotty bureaucracies of the force) There was a moment between Hart and Maggie that felt terrible and ominous, though. I’m not expecting a twist, supernatural or otherwise, in next week’s finale but can’t shake this sinking feeling that it will all end with the same emotionally devastating heartbreak and soul-crush as the series finale of Spooks (another brilliant show that was, similarly, about the agents and not the espionage). I hope I’m wrong. Either way, I have the whiskey ready.
The Cut Ups, William Burroughs