Whilst season 2 of “Broadchurch” is still up for the people’s jury to decide upon its critical merit, I thought I would cast a thought back to the original show. It began as a story where the body of a young boy was found on the beach of the fictional Dorset coastal town, Broadchurch. DS Ellie Miller (Oliver Coleman) returns from holiday to discover that her application for a promotion to the rank of Detective Investigator has been blocked by the employment of DI Alec Hardy (David Tennant). The young boy is the best friend of Miller’s son, creating an even great strain on the whole investigation. As frustration mounts to discover the identity of the child’s killer, the secret backgrounds of various characters are revealed.
You don’t need to scratch too far below the surface of the
first season of “Broadchurch” to find the quintessential British murder
mystery. The location and framing of the series, which is representative in its
title, is reminiscent of the Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple mysteries. The use
of small isolated communities as a place to stage a sensationalist
crime can be very effective. They act as an effective alternative to big city crime stories that have been popular since the beginning of the crime fiction genre. We now also have global crime dramas with the likes of "The Blacklist". "Fortitude" is a series has been called "Broadchurch on Ice", but it distinctively more violent and even darker in style. At the other end of the scale “Midsomer Murders” have taken such an approach to
the point of parody.
The main detectives also exhibit traits that we have come to
accept make up fictional British detective stereotypes. DI Hardy is
idiosyncratic to the point of being almost autistic in his attitude. However,
the narrative conveys these flaws to the point that we can very well believe he
actually is a failed detective. Like so many before him, he is also hindered by
a physical affliction, but the seriousness of it makes it more a plot point
than a gimmick. DS Ellie Miller is no sidekick despite the viewer making this
assumption early on. She is as complex and instrumental as Hardy, and is deeply
interwoven into the fabric of the Broadchurch setting. The setting is critical to
how the show works and its inhabitants are a cast of characters that cannot be
detached from the two main leads. An emphasis on character development, their
responses to the tragedy and the key role each character plays in the whole
story led writer, Chris Chibnail, to break from conventional narrative.
I couldn’t help but see David Lynch’s “Twin Peaks” both in
style and content. The most obvious and rather crassly executed comparison can
be found in the dream sequences. Serving neither as surrealistic idiosyncrasy or
a useful key to a character’s psyche, the dreams are rather superfluous to
requirements and thankfully do not riddle the show once the drama gets moving.
However, the humming and repetitive synchronizer tunes by Ólafur Arnalds, who greatly
inspired Chibnail when he first sat down to write the show are very effective.
Arnalds’ music runs through the series with only a few distinctive variations
in tune, helping to create a type of mugginess to convey the private hells
being experienced by the various characters in the cast.
We are in a time now where violent action scenes are the
norm in TV crime dramas. Shows like “The Blacklist”, “True Detectives” and “The
Gathering”, although slickly handled in their own distinctive ways, think
little of totting up the kill-rate. Characters are slaughtered flippantly in
choreographed style. In a refreshing contrast, “Broadchurch” is triumph in
minimalism. It focuses entirely upon one tragedy. Although others murders are
referenced from a previous case and one death will be the result of the social
impact of the initial murder, the focus of the battle is very much an internal
one. Similarly there is a feeling reality pervading the narrative, which
continues into the second season. The police officers are not shown to be
superheroes with elite combat skills but regular human beings. When the action
does occur, it is the frenzied, chaotic and clumsy nature that is most common
in real life, where the person who initiates is usually successful.
The show has two dual aspects of interest. Firstly, there is
the defining murder mystery element. Enhanced by the secrecy surrounding the
production, even to the cast and crew, “Broadchurch” keeps most of its viewers
guessing until the final episode. However, it doesn’t run out of steam with the
big reveal and the momentum of the various characters carries us all into a
dramatic aftermath. The aftermath is all part of the second appealing aspect of
the show and what sets it apart as a thoroughly original piece of art
entertainment. The depth of the various characters that provide credible but
surprising twists and turns reveals both the complexities of human
relationships and the ill-fitting simplistic responses society offers. The show
shines a light on the role of the church and the media in a small community,
and what part they play in an ensuing investigation. It doesn’t provide a
straightforward opinion on either, although it makes clear contrasts between a
small and isolated town like Broadchurch and the world at large. The show is
loyal to its characters and they are not mere tools used to convey an idea.
Loose ends are left on purpose in the narrative for the next season, but you
also get the feeling that they are as part of the artistic process.
Don’t get me wrong, Chibnail is clearly no self-indulgent
auteur. The show is crafted in line with the demands of a commercial TV
channel, providing dramatic moments prior to each commercial break and always
leaving a cliff-hanger. However, the work he puts into the very well casted
characters charms the viewer to freely suspend disbelief. I can even forgive
him for the superfluous dream sequences. Personal reflections work well, but we
don’t need to see M.R. James-esque beach sequences. We see enough the beach in
the main real action. What I particularly enjoy about this take on the murder
mystery is the way tactics like red herrings are not just dropped. Even when we
suspect their real nature, they are allowed to gently drift off to sea to the
extent that they leave the viewer with still some doubt. It’s a technique that
proves be effective in the next season when they reappear on the horizon during
the court case. In this sense Chibnail might be responsible for introducing an
entertaining variant on the red herring device, which aligns itself well with
the uncertainty we face in daily life.
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