John Byrne goes back to the future with a BBC reboot, admires Felicity Huffman playing an unpleasant character in a new US drama, and loses count of the body count as The Following returns.
Reviewed: Poldark (Sunday, BBC One); American Crime (Sunday, RTÉ2); The Following (Saturday, Sky Atlantic); Togetherness (Monday, Sky Atlantic)
A few weeks ago I wrote about how Sunday night telly-watching had become incredibly competitive. Adding another couple of choices to the mix, two very different shows began last Sunday: Poldark on BBC One and RTÉ2's American Crime.
The former had the added attraction of an Irish interest, given that the lead role is played by Dubliner Aidan Turner, whose previous includes playing Kili in The Hobbit trilogy, as well as TV dramas Being Human and Desperate Romantics. Back home, fans may recall him as Ruairí McGowan in the final two seasons of The Clinic.
As well as being a talented actor, Turner is blessed with a rugged, gypsy look, which makes him an ideal candidate for a show such as Poldark. A reboot of a hugely successful BBC drama from the mid-1970s, it's a bit of a no-brainer in terms of it ticking nearly every Sunday night telly-watching box, and Turner adds a little sexual tension and lots of curly hair to the part.
The story's pretty straightforward, and not unlike anything you've seen, read or heard many times before in tales of yore. A fine young man, Ross Poldark, goes off to battle for his country - in this case, England against the uppity colonials in the American War of Independence - nearly dies, sustains a fetching facial scar, and returns home to the exact opposite of a hero's welcome.
Turner gives it maximum brood in the Beeb's reboot of Poldark
His father is dead, the family estate is in ruins, and to top it all his beloved Elizabeth has gone and got engaged to his cousin. Cue lots of meaningful galloping around Cornwall as Poldark tries to get his head around his rather hapless situation, while discovering that his true friends are his father's tenants, a bunch of working-class folk who can't do enough for their new gaffer.
Indeed, the Cornwall coast is Turner's biggest rival in this show, as large chunks of the opening episode had the camera lapping up its rugged delights. But Turner looks very comfortable at the centre of things - and that 18th Century, long hair, breeches and boots look always works on Sundays. Poldark will run as long as the BBC can keep our Aidan away from Hollywood.
In stark contrast to that typical BBC period drama, American Crime arrived on RTÉ2 just three days after it aired on ABC in the United States, offering a dark and relentlessly gloomy modern drama that felt like coarse sandpaper compared to Poldark's smooth velvet. It was brilliant but depressing.
The initial premise is pretty ho-hum, war veteran Matt Skokie is killed and his wife brutally attacked during a home invasion. Grim enough but it's the ripple effect of that act that makes the pilot of American Crime so utterly compelling.
Similar to, but, so far, much better than, the Oscar-winning movie Crash, it explores the murderous attack through flashbacks, giving viewers a rather negative view of race relations, the legal system, and the hopelessly fractured nature of society in today's California. If you're looking for laughs, go elsewhere.
Huffman is particularly impressive in the lead role of Barb Hanlon, the mother of the murder victim, who's also divorced from his father, Russ Skokie, played by Timothy Hutton. Hanlon is almost a completely unsympathetic character as she's self-absorbed, demanding and racist. Think of Huffman's turn as Desperate Housewives' Lynette Scavo, and imagine the opposite.
Outside of the immediate family, several other characters are drawn into the vortex as they are implicated in the murder. None of them are the kind of people you'd fancy spending an evening with, as they're all self-centred whiny types, ranging from the WASP-ish parents, to a self-righteous Mexican immigrant, a mixed race couple of junkies, and an undocumented immigrant with the morals of a sewer rat.
Usually in a show, no matter how gritty or realistic, there's always at least one empathic character, but this is like Seinfeld with the jokes replaced by provocative dialogue. And as for the game-changing reveal at the end of the pilot? I defy anyone to say that they saw that coming. I cannot wait for the second episode.
Violence, of course, is as much a staple of American life as cheap labour, nice teeth and religious cults. All three feature in The Following (Saturdays, Sky Atlantic), which is back for a blood-soaked third season. And if the impressive body count in the opening episode is any indication of how things are going to play out this time around, it could be the deadliest yet. But it remains one of the daftest shows on TV.
Once again, Kevin Bacon stars as troubled FBI hard man Ryan Hardy, who seems to be something of a magnet for malign serial killers and psychotic cult members. With the messianic sociopath Joe Carroll (James Purefoy) on death row, a new menace goes on a murderous spree: it's Mark (Sam Underwood), the remaining deranged twin from season two's identical killers.
"The killing's just begun," says Hardy, after a total of about a dozen corpses. "It never ends," says I. Still, The Following keeps the serial killer in me content until Hannibal returns. Now there's a truly disturbing show . . .
Finally, a brief mention of adult relationship dramedy Togetherness (Monday, Sky Atlantic), which completed its impressive first season in some style. It also went out on a bit of downer as the two male leads look destined to lose their ladies, although they got the second prize of each other's companionship.
Tina cut whatever ties remain with Alex, who finally got a film part, preferring the cold comfort of Larry's luxurious but utterly vacuous life. Brett, meanwhile, feels good about his recently straining marriage, completely oblivious that she's finally fallen for David, just as Brett is heading to Sacremento to surprise her.
Which, of course, sets us up just nicely for the start of season two.
John Byrne
