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Crimes Of Passion: ‘you don’t have to be dark to be dark’ Crimes Of Passion: ‘you don’t have to be dark to be dark’
(3 days later)
Roald Amundsen’s polar supremacy, the frank 1950s nudity of Ingmar Bergman’s Summer With Monika, Abba, crispbread, The Moomins, self-assembly furniture, Olof Mellberg, a model postwar economy based on high taxation and a generous welfare state, Swedish House Mafia… the culture of the Scandinavian peninsula has long been regarded as a force for good in the world. But the entries on that list engender only a passing admiration next to the knitwear-copying gusto with which we have embraced 21st-century Scandinavian crime drama, from Swedish detectives to Danish whodunnits, even the Swedish-Danish two-detective one-whodunnit. Roald Amundsen’s polar supremacy, the frank 1950s nudity of Ingmar Bergman’s Summer With Monika, Abba, crispbread, The Moomins [see footnote], self-assembly furniture, Olof Mellberg, a model postwar economy based on high taxation and a generous welfare state, Swedish House Mafia… the culture of the Scandinavian peninsula has long been regarded as a force for good in the world. But the entries on that list engender only a passing admiration next to the knitwear-copying gusto with which we have embraced 21st-century Scandinavian crime drama, from Swedish detectives to Danish whodunnits, even the Swedish-Danish two-detective one-whodunnit.
The Bafta International TV category was an accepted euphemism for “American” until 2011, when The Killing beat Boardwalk Empire and Mad Men. Since then, no shortlist has been without at least one Scandi entry. (This year, a frankly disappointing third series of civic procedural Borgen beat Game Of Thrones to the final four.) Now, BBC4, the Corporation’s de facto Scandinavian state broadcaster, offers something a little different from the smörgåsbord of rainwear, ennui and container ships: Crimes Of Passion (BBC4, Saturday, 9pm), a one-and-a-half detective whodunnit set in the 1950s. Adapted from the novels of Maria Lang, Sweden’s Agatha Christie, the period setting and all-round attractiveness of the cast has already seen it pre-hyped as “Marple meets Mad Men”, even though Mad Men started in the 60s (hey, there are still shirts and pomade).The Bafta International TV category was an accepted euphemism for “American” until 2011, when The Killing beat Boardwalk Empire and Mad Men. Since then, no shortlist has been without at least one Scandi entry. (This year, a frankly disappointing third series of civic procedural Borgen beat Game Of Thrones to the final four.) Now, BBC4, the Corporation’s de facto Scandinavian state broadcaster, offers something a little different from the smörgåsbord of rainwear, ennui and container ships: Crimes Of Passion (BBC4, Saturday, 9pm), a one-and-a-half detective whodunnit set in the 1950s. Adapted from the novels of Maria Lang, Sweden’s Agatha Christie, the period setting and all-round attractiveness of the cast has already seen it pre-hyped as “Marple meets Mad Men”, even though Mad Men started in the 60s (hey, there are still shirts and pomade).
You recall the opening scene of The Killing? A young blonde woman in understandable distress being chased through a forest at night in a petticoat. In Crimes Of Passion’s first case, Death Of A Loved One, a figure also races through the trees in a state of agitation. Except – and here’s your refreshing tonal shift – it’s the middle of the day, light and sun-dappled. He’s wearing spotless cricket whites and a cravat. And nobody’s pursuing him, he’s just popped into the woods to hide his distress from the other smartly dressed bright young things with whom he was previously indulging in a champagne-lubricated egg-and-spoon race on the terrace. The social gathering of university types is being held on a private island, but not like the snowbound Hedeby island in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. In fact, the smooth rocky coast and prim jetty reminded me of the idyllic archipelago in Summer With Monika.You recall the opening scene of The Killing? A young blonde woman in understandable distress being chased through a forest at night in a petticoat. In Crimes Of Passion’s first case, Death Of A Loved One, a figure also races through the trees in a state of agitation. Except – and here’s your refreshing tonal shift – it’s the middle of the day, light and sun-dappled. He’s wearing spotless cricket whites and a cravat. And nobody’s pursuing him, he’s just popped into the woods to hide his distress from the other smartly dressed bright young things with whom he was previously indulging in a champagne-lubricated egg-and-spoon race on the terrace. The social gathering of university types is being held on a private island, but not like the snowbound Hedeby island in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo. In fact, the smooth rocky coast and prim jetty reminded me of the idyllic archipelago in Summer With Monika.
Puck (pronounced “Pook”, played by the pixie-ish Tuva Novotny), is first seen lecturing on the death-stalked Thérèse Raquin to a classful of studes in suits and ties, and later indulging in some Monika-esque nude sunbathing when invited to spend midsummer with an older tutor. “No phone, no neighbours, total isolation,” he promises, promisingly. Her dashing blonde boyf, Einar (Linus Wahlgren), is coming too.Puck (pronounced “Pook”, played by the pixie-ish Tuva Novotny), is first seen lecturing on the death-stalked Thérèse Raquin to a classful of studes in suits and ties, and later indulging in some Monika-esque nude sunbathing when invited to spend midsummer with an older tutor. “No phone, no neighbours, total isolation,” he promises, promisingly. Her dashing blonde boyf, Einar (Linus Wahlgren), is coming too.
Set in verdant Bergslagen and directed by Birger Larsen (who probably needed to top up his vitamin D after sunless stints on The Killing and Those Who Kill), it’s all lens flare, pedal-pushers, floppy fringes and schnapps with this foppish bunch of bohos, dancing to doo-wop. Amateur sleuth Pook makes a mental note of accusing glances, heated exchanges and, at the prescribed 20-minute mark, a dead body in the ferns, which heralds the arrival of off-duty superintendent and Don Draper-esque hunk Christer Wijk, played by Ola Rapace, ex-husband of Noomi Rapace, cyber-hacker Lisbeth in The Girl With… trilogy (Sweden’s a small country).Set in verdant Bergslagen and directed by Birger Larsen (who probably needed to top up his vitamin D after sunless stints on The Killing and Those Who Kill), it’s all lens flare, pedal-pushers, floppy fringes and schnapps with this foppish bunch of bohos, dancing to doo-wop. Amateur sleuth Pook makes a mental note of accusing glances, heated exchanges and, at the prescribed 20-minute mark, a dead body in the ferns, which heralds the arrival of off-duty superintendent and Don Draper-esque hunk Christer Wijk, played by Ola Rapace, ex-husband of Noomi Rapace, cyber-hacker Lisbeth in The Girl With… trilogy (Sweden’s a small country).
Ordered to remain on the island, everybody’s a suspect until bumped off. With tweedy, self-reflexive literacy, one remarks, “It’s like Ten Little Indians!” I love subtitled drama as it demands your full attention in a distracted world, but you’re never far away from an Anglicised translation that jars, be it “plastered” or “shit” or, “If this is a joke then it’s a damned bad one”. It’s a minor niggle over a jolly, entertaining, stylish feature-length opener, which reminds us that it doesn’t have to be dark to be dark.Ordered to remain on the island, everybody’s a suspect until bumped off. With tweedy, self-reflexive literacy, one remarks, “It’s like Ten Little Indians!” I love subtitled drama as it demands your full attention in a distracted world, but you’re never far away from an Anglicised translation that jars, be it “plastered” or “shit” or, “If this is a joke then it’s a damned bad one”. It’s a minor niggle over a jolly, entertaining, stylish feature-length opener, which reminds us that it doesn’t have to be dark to be dark.
• This footnote was appended on 1 September 2014: strictly speaking, The Moomins are Finnish. Their creator, Tove Jansson, was born in Helsinki to a Swedish-speaking Finnish father and a Swedish mother. In addition, The Moomins were first published in Swedish.