I’m late coming to this newest example of SkandiSaturday night entertainment because this happens to have been one of my working Sundays. Indeed, I’ve done a full day’s shift between the first and second episodes, so excuse me if my thinking is a little disjointed.
Modus differs from our usual run of SkandiCrimes by being Swedish rather than Danish. Considering that the Swedes have brought us both Arne Dahl and Crimes of Passion, that’s not exactly the highest recommendation, but on the evidence of the first episode, those were comparisons I didn’t see myself as having to make anytime soon. It’s also an eight part series, not ten, so taking us snugly up to Xmas (when the series happens to be set), and the episodes run to 45 minutes, not an hour.
It’s also a ‘whydunnit’, not a ‘whodunnit’, of which much has been made. That’s certainly unusual in SkandiCrime of the kind we’ve received since The Killing first made its mark, though not necessarily an original notion, given that that was the basis of practically every episode of Columbo. We see the killer and the killing in the opening ten minutes of episode 1 (and another in the last five minutes), but we don’t know the name of the killer nor what links the two murders (though it’s hinted at heavily in the trailer for episode 2). All we know is that they guy’s a professional, and he’s acting on instructions.
Appropriately enough, what we get in episode 1 is a series of introductions to characters of different ages, few of whom we get to know in any depth, nor do we know about the relationship between them, if there is any. The three central characters, who get the most screen-time, are Inger Johanne Vik (Melinda Kinnaman), Ingvar Nyman (Henrik Norlen) and Stina Vik (Esmerelda Struwe).Inger is a criminal psychologist and former profiler, now turned academic, Ingvar is an investigator for the National Bureau – the Swedish FBI – who has worked with Inger when she was a profiler for them, and Stina is Inger’s fourteen year old autistic daughter. Who witnesses the first murder.
Thus a fruitful situation is set up.
The first two murder victims are Isabella Levin and Elisabeth Lindgren. The first is an attractive blonde in her late thirties, who presents a cookery series on TV (which information is smoothly passed on in conversation with a businessman trying to chat her up in the bar). She’s leaving her partner behind on Xmas Eve to travel to Finland to visit her ex, not out of any residual feelings for him but because he got custody of the kids. On her way to a massage, she is strangled in the lift by Mr Assassin: Stina sees his face when he’s attempting to dispose of the body (which, incidentally, he has done so, offscreen, so successfully that by trailer time, nobody has yet discovered that she’s dead).
The other is a progressive Christian Bishop in her early Sixties. We successively see her and her husband Erik welcoming their grandchildren – who are black – on Xmas Eve morning (parents unseen, parking the car), conducting the service in Church and, in the evening, getting into a quarrel with Erik over some unspecified but deep-rooted issue, leaving the house to walk to the Church and being grabbed and stabbed very efficiently by Mr Assassin.
What is going on?
Answers to this start to be intimated in episode 2. Mr Killer watches an internet broadcast of a religious ceremony, in English, that looks to be a bit fundamentalist flavoured. Immediately it’s over, the cult leader, who has a really weird voice, Skypes our man about hoping he’s not getting sloppy over the girl. Given that Isabella’s partner turns out to be another woman (who spends most of the episode trying to find out where the lovely Isabella might have got too and taking far too long over getting suspicious of foul play), and that there’s a male gay couple also on the series’ radar, I have a big, shiny suspicion forming.
As for Bishop Elizabeth, first her husband tells Ingvar the Detective that it’s none of his business where the Bishop was going when she was murdered very professionally in public then he follows her steps and knocks on a door. We have yet to see who opens it, but given that he’s been burning her papers nonstop since daybreak, not to mention hiding a photo of a young woman, my big, shiny suspicion is working on overdrive.
And incidentally, I am beginning to find it a tiny bit of a cliché in SkandiCrime that, the moment a murder occurs, everyone close to the victim decides to keep back any information that might assist the Police identify, locate and arrest the killer. Hell’s bells, I would be volunteering every little scrap of gen I had if it were someone I cared about who got killed.
Not that Ingvar presses Erik the Bishop’s husband about it. Actually, he doesn’t press anyone much at all. Yes, he’s not your cliched maverick, but so far he’s not anything at all, but wet, flavourless and clueless, in both senses of the word. His only idea to date is to ask Inger to become the Bureau’s consultant on this case, and you half get the idea that it’s as much because he fancies her as he thinks she can help. Not that you’d blame him for that: Melinda Kanniman is refreshingly nice-looking, easy on the eye but not an outstanding beauty.
She’s quite clearly the star, but the best and most affecting acting is coming from Esmerelda Struwe as the autistic Stina. Without any histrionics, she is quietly and utterly convincing, and the part is superbly written (though I am slightly doubtful over her dream, just before episode 2’s end, which is heavily implied to be a vision of Ulrika finding Isabella’s body at last).
There’s a neat twist in the tail to give us thought for next week. Mr Assassin (who, according to the cast in imdb, is called Richard Forrester) is supposed to be taking out young Stina as the only witness who can identify him. Except that he saves her from being smashed flat by a truck, he spends all of episode 2 moodily trailing her around and taking none of his chances to do something about it, and at the end looks to be handing the job over to a colleague.
Who, unless I am mistaken, is Isak Vik. Former husband of Inger, and father to Stina. Hmmmm.