In the end, I found I had so little interest in Follow the Money 3 (which will indeed be the last we see of this unwanted series) that I wouldn’t have cared if I hadn’t watched the final two episodes. Only a sense of duty drove me on. And I was right not to care, frankly, since the series clearly had no idea how it wanted to go out, what message it wanted to send or whether it had a message to begin with.
Episode 9 was all about consequences coming home. Nicky, despite having been stabbed within millimetres of his liver and lost pints of blood, gets out of his hospital bed, walks out through a Police cordon and tries to get himself and little Milas clear, to Spain. It’s a superhuman effort. No, I mean that. No human being could have done that, so any residual credibility the show had immediately vanished.
Nicky contacted Anna to get his money tranferred to Spain but Lala and Nabil had intervened and blocked it off. Anna’s working for them now and they’re both fucking stupid, running on threats. Pretty Nete won’t play any more and fires Anna secretly. Nabil orders Anna to get her job back so she decides to bash Nete in the head with a hammer only she can’t do it only Nete conveniently falls down the stairs anyway and suffers a massive haemorrhage.
And now Anna’s fearful for her family, so she dobs everyone in at the Bank, ready to take the consequences, both in terms of sacking and prison. Everybody’s credit card is turned off. Anna goes to admit what she’s done to Nabil, who loses his rag, belts her a couple of times then, whilst she’s on the ground, shoots her three times at close range.
And misses her with every one. What did I say about residual credibility? This twist beggared belief, and put the show into negative credibility, rendering everything before and after completly pointless and bullshit. And what’s Anna’s ultimate fate? The Bank hush everything up, including with the Police, and appoint Anna the new Head of Compliance at HQ.
This bit reminded me so strongly of The Prisoner, of the bit where Number 6, in the penultimate episode, says the number six, and from then on everything is a surrealist fantasy of success and escape. The only bit that makes logical sense is that Anna is killed and this is a fantasy going through her head in her last split seconds of consciousness.
But what of Alf? Andwhat of Nicky? The former gets suspended when they’re this fucking close, when evidence of his popping pills and shagging Isa is sent to Storm. Even though Stine’s got him to drop the pills and Isa isn’t shagging him anymore. Just at this point, an unbleached Nicky turns up at his door to turn himself in, shop everyone, in return for a deal: decently reduced sentence, right to see his son, witness protection. He means it too. Alf has to laugh.
Nevertheless, he calls it in. The Police come to take Nicky in. Then the Police come to take Nicky in, only this time it’s Stine and the team. The first lot are working for Chief Broderson, who wants Nicky, the model of efficiency and calm, back in action and established in Dubai, never to return. But Nicky beats them, with a scene for which I’m going to shamelessly borrow Clive James’ Bad Sight of the Week, digging his fingers into his wound and pulling out the stitches so he starts bleeding again.
But it keeps him off the plane, the temporarily unsuspended Alf finds and saves him, and the beans are spilled in proper order.
So: jump four months. Nabil and Lala are sentenced. Anna’s taking up her new glittering job (poachers turning gamekeepers, naturally). Alf’s still suspended, is stalking Isa and getting nowhere. Nicky has a visit from Milas, in gaol, weeps over a drawing the little boy has made of them together, which is as good as having a thirty foot neon gun pointing down at him from above because next thing he’s being driven to his next cell and two blokes on a bike rock up beside him and shoot him to buggery through the windoow, so that’s Nicky’s story done.
As for Alf, he’s alone, traumatised, suspended. He’s put so much of himself into bringing down the hash dealers and here’s Isa’s idiot politician husband on TV exulting over Denmark making cannabis legal, regulating the trade, quality control, getting rich off its profits, new export drive, heh heh, and Alf washes down a handful of pills, lies back on the bed, closes his eyes…
Like I said, there’s definitely not going to be a season 4 and if, for some cockamamie reason they do make one, I shalln’t be watching.
I need a break, a good break I think, from Skandi dramas on a Saturday night, a break until another good one comes along. To quote Harlan Ellison, the wine has been open too long and the memory has gone flat.