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.
As much as I found it risible, I’d almost rather have a third series of Bedrag with Maverick Mess and Amoral Claudia than this molecule-thin, unnecessarily convoluted and colourless drama, that has no impetus, no meaning and certainly no heart.
A lot of things happened in episode 7, none of them particularly memorable. Alf’s back to sleeping with Isa again, except in a twist on the traditional approach, it’s not just her that is keeping her knickers on (at least it’s not America and she hasn’t still got her bra on). Alf’s going to pieces and it woul concern me more if Thomas Kwan had more than two modes of acting: slow and deadpan, and shouty slow and deadpan.
He’s not just getting screwed by Isa (through two layers of cotton, how?) but by Broderson, the Chief of Police. Alf has touched pitch: Broderson has a cunning plan to cotrol the drug’s trade, which is to let one gang (Wahid and Nebil’s) control it all. Result, no internecine wars and good, uninterrupted management. Alf can’t go along with this, except this if he doesn’t, Broderson will expose everything, the pills, the shagging, chuck him out of his job, ruin Isa’s life. Oh, and yes, lay off Nicky Rasmussen, because he’s Wahid’s principal supplier.
If that’s not bad enough, Stine is still displaying concern, so Alf reports her to his commander for excessive force and temper, provoking a temper outburst from her, proving his point. Miserable twat.
Nicky has the easiest part of it this episode. He’s happily playing with Milas when Sahar drops by with a housewarming gift. She and Milas take to each other like ducks to water, but she doesn’t like being left to cope alone, unrequested, whilst Nicky nips outto sort out a mess his soon-to-be successor Lala has created. Worse still, Lala then gets himself beaten to a pulp challenging Danish aryan racists, getting a lot of blood over a lot of money that Nicky still has to account for.
I’ve never watched Breaking Bad (I know, remiss of me) but I’m sure the writers have studied it because Anna Berg Hansen is Walter-Whiting it like nobody’s business. Sitting in on pretty Nervous Nete when the Police come to call about young Mr Rasmussen, seducing her into a business plan that will simultaneously save Nete’s neck as an out-of-her-depth Branch Manager, and suck in more laundering clients then, when discovering tht the little minx has an appointment the next morning with Alf, ducking her quite forcefully into an aquarium during a dinner party at home and threatening to have her killed. Does episode 8 have anything in it to redeem this brainless shit?
Well, yes, for a given value of redeem, that is. We’re starting to build up to the denouement, so everything starts to fall inwards, towards the centre. Nicky signs his Dubai business over to Lala whilst still keeping him on a string. Lala promises Anna to maintain the discipline under which things have been run to date, and then she goes and loses all discipline, spending money like it’s water: a flash sports car for Soren, a spa away day at a luxury hotel, complete with vintage champagne: we’re blowing it, aren’t we?
That little splurge suddenly goes hollow. Alf and Moeller have been to see pretty Nete at home and despite Anna’s warning, her nervousness betrays her. She offers up her Branch Manager’s linkto Anna’s computer. Anna, feeling randy, slips back to their room to prepare for some high-intensity, middle-aged, resurgent love fucking only to find the hapless Jaewar there, dobbing some surveillance around. Cue panic attack, sudden regrets aboout ever starting this and heart-warming support from formerly crusty husband.
The real precipitating factor for the endgame comes when Brodersen’s plan blows up in everybody’s face: Wasim is killed on the golf course by having a few tee shots taken to his head. Brodersen sticks his head in the sand, no change of plans, though Alf knows that an uncontrollable war is about to start. When Stine won’t accept his apologies, he returns Task Force Norrebro back onto Nicky and Marco. When Brodersen finds out, he immediately sets up a 30% budget cut, including sacking Commander Storm, preparatory to dissolving the team.
Alf explains to Storm how they can save theTask Force by acceding to Brodersen, but his boss reacts badly: he will not compromise an investigation to save his own ass (good man), and Alf has until the day after tomorrow to come up with evidence, or his ass is out the door.
A prolonged re-review of what they’ve got enables Inscrutable Alf to make the missing connection. He identifies Marco. Marco is Nicky. Unfortunately for Nicky, Lala has reached the same conclusion by a different route, and stabs Nicky in the stomach. Bleeding profusely, Nicky drives to Sahar’s apartment and collapses on her floor…
How much of it is me, drained of energy and unable to find anything of interest in television just now, and how much is tht Follow the Money 3 has the depth of a puddle after a 72 hour drought is difficult to tell, but I struggled just to last through episode 5 and couldn’t have watched episode 6 straight after if you’d strapped me to a chair and spreadeagled my eyelids. Only willpower is keeping me at this right now.
Once again, the episode started with problems for two out of our three leads, the exception being Nicky, who not only got to have a lovely day with his little son Milas but to shag the Muslim girl he met at Wasinm’s wedding last week, and no doubt she’s shaping up to be a major weakness for him in episodes to come.
Anna seems to be on top of things, Walter White-ing towards being a major career criminal. True, the ever so reasonable Soren discovers 47,000 kroner worth of new clobber in her wardrobe, and when she points out tht thir joint funds are only ever spent on things for him and twattish son Carl, and besides this was her money, earned from money laundering that he pushed her into, he smacks her round the face, hard, and insists she take it all back or he does.
One night on the couch later – her, not him – he’s all apologetic and swearing it won’t ever happen again, like they all do, and she’s all forgiving, but she still asks Nicky to have a ‘talk’ with him, talk here being a word that means send two thugs to beat the crap out of him in the pouring rain. You can’t really blame her.
No, it’s Alf who’s having the problems. His boss is peeved at Alf going over his head. he can only get a warrant for audio, not video surveillance. It takes nine days before they realise Nicky’s apartment is a fake and he really lives next door, and then he and Stine get caufht on the surveillance cameras, really, can he do anything else wrong?
Yes, he can, actually. Stine has to help him home when he startsdrinking on top of uppers and downers, so he goes all homophobic on her about her being a lesbian ‘pretending’ to be a Dad, then elbows her to the floor, squatting on her, slapping her face and giving every impression of being about to rape her, and we’re supposed to take this as being reaction to the drugs and alcohol, well bullshit to that. It’s a stupid direction to take a personality-free cop in a mindless thriller series.
But that’s not the worst of it. Alf tries to restart the case by arresting a money-runner and stirring the shit, except the kid pulls a gun and shoots a vested copper in the chest before Moeller, the all-action blowhard, blows him away. Oh, and one shot goes off-target. And hits a middle-aged woman bystander in the throat. AFD.
Watching episode 6 the next morning, after a night’s sleep, points up how much of my reaction to episode 5 was down to a temporary excess of depression. I don’t say the series improved dramatically, though there was a lot more to it, especially in the aftermath of the shooting. The kid was 14: sure, he brought it on himself but that still didn’t make telling his mother that it wasn’t an accident, that he did do it any easier, nor answering his big sister who, understandably, couldn’t see why they had to kill him, since being 14 trumps the fact he was shooting a Police Officer in the chest. And that’s leaving out the innocent bystander, who was the kid’s victim, not the Police’s, which I didn’t spot.
The official response is a series of rattle-their-cages raids, prefaced by Alf walking into Nicky’s juice bar before it opens, and having an almost friendly chat, in semi-cryptic terms, a bit Robert de Niro and Al Pacino in Heat. One place turns up hash and phones and guns, but two are crossed off the list by Chief of Police Broderson, an omission Stine spots and Alf plays dumb about.
The unofficial response comes when Alf sees Isa’s politician husband pontificating on TV about legalising cannabis and has another psychotic reaction, going round there, screaming in her face in impotent rage, until she snogs him, takes him indoors, starts undressing both, but all he can do is double up and cry with his head on her belly. I am reminded of a Nick Lowe single I loved that got nowhere. It was called ‘Cracking Up’.
Nicky, on the outside, is unperturbed. He doesn’t make mistakes, he stays cool. But inwardly the pressure is getting to him. He has a choice between lives: his current role as player for Marco with Alf and his boys constantly snapping at his heels when only one slip will see him in prison, or the one where he’s Milas’ father, bringing his soon up in peace and quiet, out and completely out. That’s his choice: two more months and handing over to his juic bar prtner and trusted lieutenant, who wants it.
Anna has a problem. It’s surprise Internal Audit Day with the Bank’s shit-hot team turning up on spec and she gets about five minutes notice. And Nicky’s accounts are stuffed with too much money and no time to get it out of there. Of course, she pulls it off, getting slightly more complaisant husband Soren to invoice for1.5M kroner and getting her colleague Flemming to dob himself in over an unwise 1M loan to a strip club (oh, corks!) to buy herself time to shift it all out again.
Unfortunately, junior Branch Manager Nete isn’t just a pretty smile and a pair of perky tits. Internal Audit won’t recognise Soren’s company, but Nete does and she’s started digging deeper. Doubly unfortunately, she doesn’t dig deep enough to realise that Anna has had her sign over a dozen incriminating documents without reading them, like she would forany long-standing and trusted Officer: I go down, you go with me, capisce?
Back to Alf. They’ve caught up on a message that Marco himself is coming to Copenhagen for his own version of the routine Internal Audit, so they’re all over Nicky like a cheap suit. Except he goes through the entire day without speaking to anyone who could be Marco. I saw it before they did: the one unobserved part of the day was Nicky’s taxi-ride: Maarco was the cab-driver. Fooled again. Alf is angr with himself, even after Moeller says he would have done exactly the same things.
So Marco leaves. And there are four more episodes to watch. It feels like we’re going to have to start again. At least I feel ready for it again.
This really feels off, to be watching and blogging a BBC4 Scandinavian series on Thursday, but I only have myself to blame for missing the first two episodes when actually broadcast. A midweek session on a few days of leave is necessary for me not to be permanently a week behind.
The first part of this double bill swung from dull to interesting (for a given value of interesting, that is). It’s all three separate stories and things not going well. Alf’s leadership of Task Force Norrebro isn’t going well: in the absence of Moeller, on petulance leave, they blow the chance to follow someone from the Bureau de Change due to incompetence, at which Alf overreacts: it makes a change from standing around looking pained all the time.
He’s missing Isa. Things have gone serious for him on their casual affair, serious enough for him to make the colossal mistake of turning up at her house one night when she’s put her daughters ahead of him, and talking to her politician husband, just because he needs to see her. The outcome is inevitable: she breaks it off.
Nicky’s not happy either. He’s cranky, thinking about little Milas. He turns up, unannounced, at Milas’s grandparents, with whom he’s settled, but doesn’t get to see him, nor leave the teddy bear he’s brought. He applies for custody but has to deal with a dispassionate and reasonable Social Worker who is determined to do what’s right for the boy.
As for Anna, her husband is still a boor and her would-be career as a criminal isn’t going well. Her first client thinks she’s a bullshitting amateur. Her second is more appreciative but his habit of going off half-cocked, punching people in the head and throwing Play Statuions through widescreen TVs convinces her they can’t work together. Mind you, Hingo the driver has another contact for her, someone quieter.
Then things start to look up. Alf’s team capture their man, and over half a ton of hash. Nicky successfully pulls off a bluff that doubles his sales to one of his arrogant client’s, when they’re trying to throw their weight about.
And Anna’s third potential client is… Nicky. Who Alf then sees going into the basement of the Bureau de Change. Whoa, this is only episode 3! That’s an incredibly early moment for a SkandSeries to start tying its separate threads together.
And tie it yet further it does in the back half of the bill, with Alf getting the arrested suspect, who he’s convinced isn’t big enoough to be the drugs-runner or the Romanian slayer to ‘fess up off the record to his contact. Doesn’t know his name, but can identify him from the photos on Alf’s phone.
So Nicky is now the hinge connecting Anna and Alf, who are as yet unaware of each other. She’s going great guns on her infant career as a white-collar crook: she starts episode 4 with a flash of bush and a very wide cleavage to Soren, her miserable git of a husband, only for him to not even notice, and ends with a new wardrobe, bottling out of letting a complete stranger take her to his hotel room and shag her brains out, but with her new found confidence she goes home, silently demands Soren’s attention, and instead gets her brains shagged out officially (after the credits run, but still).
As for the other two, Alf’s still got it rough. His commander, Storm, shuts down the surveillance at the Bureau, but a chance meeting with the Chief of Police whilst Alf’s buying water with which to take his illegal sleeping pills gets our man a lever to get storm re-open it. On the other hand, the lovely Stine (who has a wife and two kids but till finds time to wear a sports bra) toicks him off for his Benso/Ritalin diet.
And Nicky’s business takes on a new and profitable client, plus he meets this Muslim girl who clearly fancies the idea of getting his bleached-blond head between her… sheets.
The problem is that the whole thing is still basically dull. It’s standard. It’s nothing out of the ordinary. It could be a British series for all it’s doing, stodgy, unimportant and routine. I’ll stay the course, because this is one of my things on this blog, and I may yet be pleasantly surprised, but crappy as Follow the Money 1 and 2 were, they had some vigour and distinction to them, even if it was only the distinction of being bulllgoose looney.
I’m clearly not as clued in as I used to be because the latest BBC4 SkandiKrime series actually started last week, so I’m going to have to do a bit of catching up. And I was rather surprised to see Bedrag (aka Follow the Money) returning for a third season when the finale to season 2 seemed to leave no further ground upon which to stand, especially given the decision of Maverick Mess to get out of the Fraud Squad in which he’d always been so ill-fitting.
But here we are again: no Maverick Mess, no Amoral Claudia, not even the Fraud Squad. No familiar title sequence, no familiar theme music, just what do we have that links us to two prior seasons except the name Follow the Money? Not a lot, obviously.
What we do have are Thomas Hwan as Alf Nyborg, the Chinese-Danish detective who spent all his time looking pained at everything Maverick Mess was doing and who now spends all his time looking pained for his own personal reasons, and Ebsen Smed as Nicky Rasmussen, the former marginally more sensible half of Nicky and the Bozo.
Nicky has gone up in the world: he’s now the main man in Denmark for invisible drugs kingpin Marco. Alf’s gone sideways and down, into Task Force Nabarro, where he’s working with but under another forceful idiot, Moeller, who’s all big beard and crack heads together. The Task Force are tackling drug-running, but they haven’t the patience for following the money trail, unlike Inscrutable Alf.
Alf isn’t having a good time of it. Ever since being shot through the spleen two years ago (and despite spending only half an hour in hospital over it), Alf is suffering from PTSD, in the form of not sleeping more than an hour a night. This even applies when he’s been shagged out by his married lover, Isa (the local equivalent of the Crown Prosecution Service Lawyer, played by Maria Askehave, looking very much changed from when she was Rye Skovgaard in The Killing series 1).
On the strength of episode 1 it was obvious they’d taken out all the stupid crap, the idiot characters with their brains in their egos, and the general silliness, but they’d forgotten to put anything individual, distinctive or just plain interesting in its place. Episode 2 started to show a bit of intrigue in the form of third star Maria Rich, as Anna Berg Hansen.
Anna’s a middle-aged, married employee at Kredit Nord Bank, We see a lot of the back of her head at first, until we learn that, despite management’s fulsome compliments as to her skills, she’s been passed over for Branch Manager in favour of a pretty brunette not much more than half her age, about whom the same compliments are made when she’s officially announced.
Before then, we’ve discovered Anna has a boorish husband, whose construction business is less stable than he’s let her think, and a twattish teenage son. At least the son doesn’t bully her into illegal covering up potential money-laundering by one oof the business’s suppliers. Having crossed that line, Anna comes home with ‘good’ pizzas to an empty house, so she takes up Rune’s offer of dinner, drinks lots of wine and enjoys herself (without anything being tried on. In this episode at any rate).
Rune knows other businessmen who’d pay for what Anna’s done, but she’s insistent it’s a one-off for her husband’s benefit. Until Nete is unveiled as Manager under the exact same compliments as she got in being turneddown. Then she meets Rune outside, and I don’t think it’s because she likes the taste of his wafer thin mints (thugh i give it no later than episode 5…)
So, we’re back in business with a pile of reservations. At least we’re being spared Maverick Mess and you know what they say about small mercies.
Watching the end of the latest SkandiKrime series, I was prey to mixed emotions. Though Follow the Money 2 has been, overall, a much superior experience to the first series, with a stronger story, with more serious implications and much less utter dickery, even from Maverick Mess, I’ve sometimes found it unengaging and, dare I say it, ordinary.
The ending of the story, which spread as much justice around as it could, turned out to be flat and disappointing. It was confused and hurried, as if the show realised, too late in the proceedings, that it actually needed eleven episodes to tie up its loose ends, and that it was going to have to skimp on all of them.
And, not least with Maverick Mess’s resignation from a job he had never been suited for, it gave the strongest impression that the door was being shut to the almost-mandatory third series.
The last couple of episodes covered a lot of ground, and put a few characters in it as well. We started in predictable, and predictably dumb fashion, with a direct continuation of last weekend’s cliffhanger. P/Bo Peterson, the lifelong efficient troubleshooter, the expert, the ever-prepared, the man who keeps a silenced pistol in his bathroom cupboard, shoots Inscrutable Alf twice through the stomach at jig range and Alf not only survives (one flesh wound, one ruptured spleen, and spleen’s are just so 2016) but he’s back on his feet in Fraud Squad headquarters before episode 9 is over.
And, in contradiction to my gloomy assumption-of-cliche last week, Nicky breaks into Mess’s house to retrieve Claudia’s file (which Big Bad Knud burns), gives poor Kristina a wallop across the chops that knocks her to the ground and breaks her waters prematurely but doesn’t even leave a mark on her still-pretty face, but though it’s eleven weeks early, one Caesarean later, the baby’s in an incubator, and the little tyke is going to live.
Of course, Mess is going round telling all and sundry that everything’s going to be perfectly fine, he’s strong, she’s strong, nothing bad can possibly happen because I say it won’t, call me Pollyanna, and it all is.
But after that, the stupidity was over and the rest of it was all serious down the line.
By now, all three stories were tangled together, so I’m not going to try to split them up. The rapidly recovering Alf quickly identifies Big Bad Knud’s cunning scheme, which is to bankrupt Denmark. Not just Absolen Bank, and Nova Bank, come to that, but the entire country, send it into economic freefall (are you sure he isn’t a member of the Tory Party?). That’s been the plan all along, and when he’s trapped into confessing by a cunning and utterly immoral move by Claudia and Amanda, he even seems proud of it, since the krone was artificially high and needed taking down and peg or two (the billions of it pouring into the coffers of an obscure holding company in the name of his senile wife were just an unfortunate side-effect).
After a night of desperate selling to no avail, Absolen goes down, dragging Nova after it. Simon gets taken in to custody, on the basis that he can’t have been so all-fired stupid as he looks and been completely oblivious, even though we know he was. This leaves Claudia floundering to find a way, any way, to get Christensen. Both Amanda and her ex-husband, Steen, correctly point out that she’s only cared about that and revenge, not about the Bank that’s been the now-bankrupt Absolen siblings’ lives, nor her financially-straitened father-of-my-child, who she shops to the Police, guaranteeing him the same jail-experience she’s had, and provoking him to an unsuccessful suicide bid.
No, Claudia manages to keep Amanda onside by going to senile Grethe and getting her to sign a Power of Attorney in Claudia’s name that cannot in any world be remotely legal for an atosecond, but which gets her full access to Grethe’s company and passwords (thanks to a Bank Manager? Financial Adviser? Complete-and-utter no-mark who’s totally unaware that Grethe Christensen is, as Uncle Mort would put it, pots-for-bloody-rags: plothole of convenience of major proportions here).
Still, it’s not like Claudia and Amanda want this access for any legal purpose. No, they find a cool 450M krone accumulated since this time last night, break it into five equal parts, and shuffle it into five of Big Bad Knud’s Official Accounts and tip off Mess. Knud spots the difference, realises he’s been blindsided and comes in with his lawyer.
Knud’s willing to confess to massive currency speculation and economy-shafting because he knows two things. One is that, thanks to Nicky, he’s insulated from all the deaths and mayhem, and the other is that he’s going to negotiate a deal because he’s really only small fry: he can give them the Englishman, Henson.
You’d expect all this to infuriate Mess, but it doesn’t. Still, we’ve arrived at Nicky, let’s deal with his part in all things final.
P turns up at the garage, seeking sanctuary from Bozo Bimse, only to be spotted by a passing customer. P wants to be driven to Frankfurt, where he’ll disappear. Nicky retrieves P’s pills from his summer home, which the Police are pulling apart, but receives orders from Christensen to tie up the loose end in a more permanent way, by offing P. The Swede is still a bit too canny and has Bimse drive him off at gun-point. Bimse’s a bit clever though, contriving a stop during which he hides P’s pills as a lever against being let go. So P sticks a screwdriver through Bimse’s heart, for which Nicky puts a bullet through P’s head.
Nicky plans to disappear and send for Lina (who really is lovely: it would have been nice if Julie Gruntvig Wester could have had more screen-time) but when she gets pulled in by the Police, and is questioned as to whether Micky has had anything to do with the death of Benjamin Jepson – the now-deceased Bozo – it’s the final straw. Lina cuts all ties with Nicky, for both herself and little Milas.
But Nicky has a final mission: Christensen’s patience has evaporated and he wants Claudia to vanish. So, with everything lying in financial ruins, the Absolen siblings leaving their home, Steen suicidal and refusing to speak to her, Claudia comes home, strips off all her clothing and gets into the shower. Which is when Nicky levels an extremely phallic silenced gun at her.
Luckily, she’s put the television on in another room for the news she’s not listening to but which Nicky can hear. All about how the crisis is over, the Henson Group have saved the day, and about the tragic death of Knud Christensen, shot outside Police HQ today by Helge Larsen, grandfather of the dead teenager, Olga. Nicky steals away into the bright early evening, Claudia gives us a flash of tit, and Lina comes home to a shoulderbag full of 5,000,000 in bills, currency undefined, which Nicky had attempted to bribe Steen with. She cries, Nicky slides off into the night.
Wait a minute. The financial crisis is over? Henson has bailed Denmark out? Are we missing something here? No, it’s Maverick Mess, reversing all his characterisation. Mess has got the goods on Henson. He can put him away. He can break the biggest financial crime in Danish history. And he offers to shred the file. If Henson props up the economy.
So Mess goes back to HQ and, under the disbelieving eyes of Inscrutable Alf, shreds all the evidence. Because Mess has stopped caring. Because it doesn’t matter. Because before he was allowed to arrest Big Ban Knud, the Danish Finance Minister wanted him first, to bale out the country. Because for every Christensen there’s always someone bigger, richer and more distant behind him. Because Mess can’t do this any more. Because Mess is resigning.
It’s the Blake’s Seven ending again. The bad guys are too powerful for the good guys. It’s defeatism and gloomery and we-really-don’t-want-to-do-another-series-of-this.
And just like that, Follow the Money 2 ends, having thrown all its balls into the air and run away before they start coming down and someone might have to catch them. It’s a non-ending, really, a scorched-earth stop. You can’t say that there won’t be a third series, but on the evidence of the way this one was run into the ground, you can’t say that there’s obvious enthusiasm for doing this again.
It’s not just Blake’s Seven, it’s Douglas Adams/Mostly Harmless as well.
And it’s not at all satisfying.
Maybe we can have a Disappearance 2 next? I’m in the mood for something a bit not-Skandi…
It was a long old double episode this week, covering a lot of ground, so much so that the two episodes felt, at times, like transmissions from different series. That this was so was down to the performance of Maverick Mess.
The first part, episode 7, could have been sub-titled ‘that idiot at his fucking worst’ and I would have still thought it didn’t go far enough. The BBC blurb had it that Mads was impatient, and that too was an understatement. Given that he spent the entire hour either raging at his boss, or raging at Alf, his trusty sidekick, for not being willing to completely smash the law to pursue Mess’s vendetta against Big Bad Knud, or else lying and bullying to smash the law in direct defiance of temp boss Henrietta’s instructions, and incidentally seeing Amoral Claudia at Absolen Bank, jumping to completely the wrong conclusion about her working for Big Bad Knud and then lying and bullying first her Parole Officer then Claudia herself, this was a fine example of how not to run a Fraud Squad based on intricate investigation, careful collection and interpretation of sensitive and intricate information and, above all, PATIENCE, you cretin!
Mess was on the rampage, convinced of his own rightness, his own righteousness, heedless of the concept that just because a thought had crossed the lonely wastelands of his mind, that did not make it concrete and irrefutable fact.
No greater demonstration of this was there than the end of the episode when Claudia (being illegally wiretapped) accepted the lovely Amanda’s suggestion to set up a meeting with Big Bad Knud. The Police have the meeting (legally) wire-tapped and Mess is all sweary and up himself about how Claudia lets Mr Christensen know the fuzz are onto his Risk Management Departmennt scam, so he’d better hut it down (on, and by the way, hand us back those one-sixth of Absolen customers you were stealing, to put through the ringer).
Mess goes mental, he goes postal, he goes abso-bloody-lutely crackers at how he’s been betrayed, until even Alf spits back at him for what a fucking disgrace he is as both copper and human being. And then the script slaps Mess one around the chops as Claudia phones them up to tell them what she’s done, and that they now have her in a trusted position where she can get the dirt for them on Big Bad Knud.
Collapse, if there were any justice, of stout party, but Mess is our hero, so the twonk gets away with barely even apologising, and behaves properly, sensibly, reasonably and even to a large extent like a Fraud Squad policeman throughout episode 8.
Then again, much of Mess’s time in the second half is diverted towards his real agenda, which is Vendetta. Mess still wants Sander Sodergren, and he wants him bad, so now he’s actually on good terms with Claudia, she spills to him two key facts. Firsrtly, that Sander’s first destination on leaving Denmark was to be Frankfurt, and secondly the alias under which he was traveling: Stig Lorentzen. She also tells him that Sander was not alone, that P, the Swede, was with him.
Thus, by a process of real deduction, our Maverick is able to track Sander to Sao Paolo in Brazil (it looked like Greece to me, but hell, I’ve never been to either one), where he disappears. At this point, a very Sander-specific unsolved murder victim crops up, soon DNA-ed and ID-ed. And by comparing passenger lists on the flight route, our boys track one Bo Peterson, a Swede aged 59, who’s recently been in hospital…
So Mess and Alf call on P’s home away from home, catching him as he’s packing to leave. Mess has warned Alf in advance that this is the guy who killed his lady reporter friend Mia in series one. P shuffles about weakly, denies everything, fakes a heart attack, needs his pills. Alf follows him to the bathroom, but instead of pills, P )or should we now call him Bo?) produces a silenced gun from the bathroom cabinet and shoots Alf twice in the stomach with it.
Alf is not yet dead, which is a surprise, given P’s experience and skill level, but he’s in a really shitty situation, and that’s the cliff-hanger on which we pause.
Obviously, I’ve concentrated for so long on Mess, but Claudia’s story has gotten intertwined with his, and as we reach the end, Nicky’s is about to cross lines in a manner that has been so thoroughly foreshadowed this week that we don’t need the last two episodes to know where that’s going.
But Claudia first. I’ve already mentioned how Nova are digging their claws into Absolen by extending their Risk Management team role to one whole sixth of Absolen’s customers. Amanda is horrified but Simon isn’t. He’s so very thoroughly already gone native with Nova and Big Bad Knud, the muppet, and is using Nova to expand Absolen by taking over a progressive French Bank, Credit Thingy (whose chief Legal Adviser just so happens to be Amoral Claudia’s ex, and father to her boy Bertram, Steen).
Claudia tries to head Nova off by getting Steen to slow down the sale, put conditions on that will shut Nova out, but Steen’s on the edge of financial ruin if this deal doesn’t go through. Demonstrating that she can be at least as ruthless when she wants, Claudia goes behind his bank, only to find that Credit Wotzit (begins with an S, that’s all I can remember) is desperate for the money.
And we find out why in the second half, courtesy of a Nova risk manager who gets abruptly terminated, and who should be escorted out of the country by Nicky. He spills the beans to Amanda and Claudia: Credit Oojah has a lot of dodgy loans out to French tech firms and if the tech market drops just one leedle percentage point, it’ll drag the French Bank under.
And if it drops just one half more, guess which Danish bank goes with it?
And whilst we’re guessing things, just what do you think Big Bad Knud is manipulating?
Simon, the would-be Knud Jr, gets presented with the evidence that he’s been nothing more than a sheep in sheep’s clothing among all these wolves, and can see for himself that all those promises Christensen made aren’t worth the air in which he spoke them: Big Bad Knud does not write things down, as Claudia has found, trying to get some evidence of fraud that points to him, not her. Whilst she and Amanda rally to call an overnighter to rescue Absolen, all Simon can do is sob.
And Claudia, after Christensen didn’t fall for her ‘sign here and here’ trick, is mortally afraid she’s been blown. When she hears about Sander, it’s not just him and the memory of that screw on the kitchen table she weeps for. Mess’s assurances that he and Alf will look after her are of curiously little comfort. And she’s right to be scared: she’s being followed by Nicky.
About time we got to him. After last week’s balls-up with little Olga, Nicky’s in the doghouse. P won’t return his calls, two men in a black car are permanently hanging around the garage, his little boy Milas goes missing for a few minutes. Nicky can’t take it: he grabs and tortures one of P’s men, holds the Swede’s daughter and gunpoint and tracks him down, threatening him to his face.
But P/Bo has been training Nicky up to take over for him, and he talks Nicky down, until the only person he uses the gun on is the thug who led him there, killed in cold blood.
So Nicky replaces P as Big Bad Knud’s go-to guy. He’s still not flawless, but he’s getting there, and all it costs him is the ability to respond to his lovely wife, Lina.
And right at the end there, he’s following Claudia, and she leaves a file for Mess at his house, with the lovely but weary Kristina. Kristina, whose late-life baby bump is now showing a long way out. Kristina, who’s been told that her sclerosis has been concealing a quite advanced case of cystitis. Kristina, who’d been told she needs complete rest or she’s at risk of premature delivery (i.e., miscarriage). Kristina, whose idiot husband is so obsessed with nailing Big Bad Knud, he can’t spare a second to listen to her so she has to confide in Alf instead.
Kristina, home alone with a file in a house towards which Nicky is advancing, under instructions from Christensen to get it back…
So tune in next week for the inevitable, and whatever else is planned to end series 2. And don’t worry about Alf, shot twice in the stomach at contact range by a master-assassin: whilst trying to find out the name of that blasted French Bank, I happened to catch site of the blurb for episode 10. Alf hasn’t bought it. The Main Character Exemption applies again. I bet Mess could survive being hit by an Atom Bomb…
In the the week that Follow the Money II reaches its midpoint, no less a TV authority than Mark Lawson has pronounced that ‘Scandi Noir is Dead’ (find your own link, I’m not supporting that), which leads us to the obvious question: where does the Guardian get allthese wankers from? Lawson, an intellectual, was part of the infamous televised sneering session about Terry Pratchett, during which Tom Paulin claimed Pratchett couldn’t write because he didn’t even put chapters in.
The reason for Lawson’s recent pronouncement of execution is a rather contrived Swedish/French crossover crime series, which sounds unlikely to threaten the likes of The Killing or The Bridge, but to assert that the whole genre is dead – less than a year after Trapped – demonstrates the by now inevitable confusion between opinion and concrete fact.
A real intellectual would not have ignored the fact that television has always broadcast a mixture of good, bad and indifferent series, and that no culture is free from the urge to cash in on successful and innovative concepts with cheap, derivative and inferior copies.
We are watching Follow the Money, after all, aren’t we?
That said, it was disappointing to find that, in it’s new, more serious and better-plotted style, the middle two episodes were, well, dull. The storylines began to mesh more closely, our three principals moved forward in the face of obstacles, Mess didn’t do anything massively dickish, and it was pretty much boring. Short of summarising developments, I have little to say.
I’m not totally without adverse comment, mind you. On the Fraud Squad side, a new figure came into play, one Helge Larson, former staunch collaborator with Big Bad Knud, until he went down for Fraud in 2007. Larson can put the finger on how the wily Knud operates, that is, if he can refrain from blackmailing the self-satisfied old bugger for his silence. All this gets him is Knud delivering direct instructions to Nicky the Apprentice to kidnap Larson’s bright, perky, sixteen year old granddaughter, Olga, in return for the relevant paperwork. No police.
There are a couple of egregious cliches coming up on this strand, and the pre-episode 6 warning of ‘Disturbing scenes’ pretty much gave away that little Olga was not long for this world. Firstly, she’s wearing one of those Fitness watches which, when she switches it on, enables Mess and Alf to track her via its GPS to the factory where Nicky is keeping her. Except that when they arrive, she’s gone… but the watch has been left behind.
Next, Nicky takes her to a house in the woods. Olga manages to escape, brains him with a fire extinguisher, but not hard enough (once you’ve got them down, smash their head in with the blunt instrument: that’s a cliche I’d like to see get established). So she runs, and he runs after her, until she slides down a mini-cliff to the beach, and gets a chunk of rotted wood right through the abdomen. From which, of course, she dies.
Second egregious cliche time: Mess tracks Olga’s footsteps back and finds the deserted house. Nicky’s inside, doing a professional job of cleaning the place under P’s instructions. Mess is prowling around. Any moment, he’ll see Nicky’s car, with the open boot showing the full clean-up kit… except that at that very moment, Mess’s phone goes, with the sad news of Olga’s passing, so he returns without completing his investigation. Sigh.
Having brought Nicky’s strand in so close, let’s stick with him. He’s still the model Apprentice, though he risks alienating Bimse further when Annika, P’s daughter, turns up at the garage, drops hints as heavy as lead balloons that he shagged her after the club last week, and wants more of it, in the office chair. Bimse, who’s a friend of Lina as well, is well pissed-off, but when Olga dies, and Nicky, suddenly scared shitless of where he’s arrived in his part-time career path, decides he has to run, the Bozo is immediately supportive, and tops up Nicky’s getaway 10,000 kr. with 5,000 of his own.
To no avail: P turns up, mob-handed, and Nicky gets the shit kicked out of him.
But we’re ignoring Claudia, who gets shafted in more ways than one this week. Enter Nova, with a 50% increase on their last, already inflated if for Absolen Bank, the literal ‘Offer-you-can’t-refuse’. Claudia helps Amanda put together a last minute pitch to a better buyer, the progressive Italian bank, Banco Fiore, who’ll match the deal. Amanda’s pretty wiped out by now, so Simon has her sign Power of Attorney over to him, so he can conclude the deal.
By sacking Claudia with immediate effect, blowing off the Italians and going direct to Big Bad Knud, waving the listening device, and negotiating a ale on condition Simon only is Manager.
A semi-drunk Claudia invites Jens Kristen around to mope with, and ends up shagging the arse off him, though she will learn, at the darkest hour, that not only does he have a partner already, said partner is about eight months pregnant. Is that enough to be called an egregious cliche? I think it is. Let’s make that number three, then.
But Claudia is not giving up her battle against Big Bad Knud in only episode 6, so she cleans up the manic Amanda (a bit too quickly and efficiently for direct plausibility, but then how long had plausibility been a key factor of this programme?) and sets her off to blackmail dear brother Simon. It just so happens Amanda has some pretty potent stuff up her pretty sleeve, so Nova Bank buys Absalen, with two Managers, one of whom has promptly re-hired Claudia.
But what, you are all demanding to know, about Maverick Mess? He’s pretty damned rational and reasonable this week, which is oddly offputting. True, he subjects his son Albert to a Police interrogation over Albert’s mate’s missing iPad, which is there at the Justesen household (GPS comes in so useful). But the moment he finds the missing electronica under his car seat, he immediately goes and apologises to the lad.
But Mess cannot leave off being Mess totally. In his grief over Olga’s death, Larson supplies the key information which will let the Fraud Squad, under the pretty, blonde Heenrietta as acting Chief, get Knud for offences sufficiently serious as to not be statute-barred, but that’s not good enough for Mess. So they can put Knud in prison for two years, destroy his standing, have him disbarred from company ownership, etc. Two years is not enough for Mess, who personally demands life, rot in there, man’s a shit.
That’s the Mess we are used to. Instead of catching a guilty man now, let’s do nothing, monitor his takeover of Absolen Bank, catch him out doing something more serious. We do have four episodes left, remember. Let’s do something really stupid, just because one idiot detective says so.
After last week’s snark-infested introduction to the second series of Bedrag (Deception), I found the next pair of episodes to be extremely confusing. On the one hand, the show is displaying clear signs of taking off into very serious, and very deep-lying waters, in all three of its inter-twined strands. On the other, my distaste for each of its’ trio of heroes is growing, and in one case is turning into disgust.
The dichotomy presented itself in the opening moments of episode 3, which immediately had me both admiring and groaning, and which became emblematic of what was to follow.
We ended last week with Nicky, growing increasingly curious about the business of the enigmatic but laid-up-with-heart-trouble P, tracing the fruits of the wiretap back to the Big Bad, Knud Christensen, but being caught out trespassing by the man himself. Christensen is all avuncular and secure, wanting Nicky’s name and threatening him with the Police. But Nicky, who in series 1 would have panicked nearly as badly as would Bimse the Bozo, counter-threatens by revealing that he is wire-tapping for Christensen, who lets him go (though not without a warning, to both Nicky then, and P very shortly afterwards, about how unwise such things are).
Nicky, having successfully faced down the Man, returns to his car. Where he promptly reverts to most abject cliche by pounding on his steering wheel to relieve his frustrations. Seriously, does anyone outside crap television ever pound on their steering wheel in frustration? And they always do it three times: not four, not two, but bam! bam! bam! Cripes.
But the problem is that, as the various stories start to unroll properly, we start to see that Follow the Money 2 is getting very serious indeed. On the one hand, we have the Fraud Squad, investigating what appears to be a disgusting scheme by one of Denmark’s major financial institution, Nova Bank, to force small but promising businesses into bankruptcy so that their assets and customers can be taken over by already-established businesses at an undervalue.
Then we have Nova Bank trying to takeover the up-and-coming and entirely innovative Absolen Bank in a very hostile manner, applying public pressure and naked appeal to Shareholders’ greed on the one level, and dirty tricks on the other.
Christensen is behind both of these schemes and, on the third hand, we have P carrying out the dirty aspects of the jobs by remotely operating the increasingly efficient Nicky to wire-tap, deal drugs, blackmail and, entirely off his own bat, viciously assault and probably seriously injure someone who stands up to him.
Let’s stick with Nicky for the moment. Remember that he started off in series 1 as an experienced car thief, looking to clean up his act for his wife and her baby bump by becoming a garage owner, but getting mixed up with the rather more active P. By this series, he was a regular ’employee’ of the Swede fixer, as primarily a messenger boy, but P’s health problems (double-bypass heart operation) have led to him being promoted to an active role as his stand-in.
What we’re watching here is Nicky going through an apprenticeship to become another P. He’s taking to it like a duck to water, which is disturbing to watch. For the sake of his wife and his trusting kids, you want him to come to his senses, back out, go back to just petty crime (because this guy is never going to actually go straight, you can tell).
But already it looks like its going to be too late. Nicky forced Bimse into a dangerous scheme to recover P’s Black Audi, that Bimse has sold to an East European gang for shipment abroad, and all so that he can tell Bimse to take it to the Police, cough for Nicky’s assault on Mess last week, and do Nicky’s time for it. Sure, he’ll get 20,000 kr a month for it, but if the Bozo won’t voluntarily do a head-first into the shark-infested pool, Nicky will kick him in there, without a a qualm, and without any 20,000 kr a month.
If that’s not enough of a bastard’s trick, Nicky’s next job is to provide drugs to the son of a major investor in Absolen Bank, and blackmail the Dad into voting Nova’s way to ensure the photos don’t get into the Press. On the way, Nicky ends up snorting coke himself and, whilst coked out of his brain, staying out all night and impliedly shagging P’s daughter.
Let’s just go back a moment for a brief scene where Nicky tells his missus that he hates his dead father, who assaulted him and cheated on his mother. Unusually, the scripters have her ask and him explain why he’s never told her this before, which he passes off, indirectly, as a determination to leave it in the past, but which is really so that we will readily understand his loss of control when, the takeover bid having failed, he pursues the Dad, who didn’t vote for Nova Bank, and kicks the potentially living shit out of him for not defending his son.
One youngish man, on a dark path, leading only downwards. I bet P doesn’t take too kindly to Nicky shagging his daughter…
I’ve already had to reveal that the Nova Bank takeover has been thwarted, at least for now. This is the story for Claudia the Amoral. Claudia is determined to stop Christensen having this victory, and says so, impassionedly, to convince another top-ranking businessman to enter the fray as a White Knight. The big problem, and this is directly voiced by our old friend, Jens Kristian, is whether Claudia means this, or whether it’s a ploy.
Claudia says she means it, but we have our doubts still. Claudia is still set on getting her life back as quickly as possible, which suggests that she’s not thoroughly internalised the message that massive fraud and dirty financial tricks are not ideal behaviour. She’s already trying to skirt some of the conditions of her parole, and expecting her Parole Officer to bend the rules in her direction, just because that’s what she wants.
Of course, she’s ideal to head off Nova Bank’s takeover, because she knows what sort of dirty tricks, above board, that they’ll use. Pardon my ignorance of such things, both here and in Denmark, but do companies aiming for a takeover really get to go on TV finance programmes and basically say that the people refusing to sell smaller, successful, innovative, creative enterprises are a bunch of shits for not letting us buy them out considerably over the odds so that we can destroy absolutely everything remotely innovative about them and just make shitloads of money (I paraphrase)?
Claudia’s biggest problems are the Absolen twins. Simon is basically a wet and a weed and of no practical help whatsoever (until the very end of episode 4, to which we’ll come shortly). Unfortunately, the very much more effective Amanda (hello, Sonia Richter) doesn’t like Claudia that much, doesn’t agree that she’s completely and utterly right, and is, let’s not forget, a recovering coke addict (and I don’t mean Diet, or Cherry).
And Amanda is struggling. There’s a powerful scene, opening episode 4, where she’s at Narcotics Anonymous, where she’s bitter and sarcastic, wanting – needing – a fix, and unwilling to accept what she sees as platitudes from the others in the group. It’s suggested, very cleverly, that Amanda is a very intelligent woman, much more so than the people her life causes her to associate with, and that her use of drugs and drinks is to suppress the frustration of cdealing with those she sees as stupid.
That’s bent in a slightly different direction later when, to Claudia, she affirms that she’s starting one of those periods where she keeps getting strange thoughts. She says this whilst constantly sipping from a wine-glass she keeps refilling. The inference is a mental issue, as is a reference to enjoying being the centre of attention, but it’s not inconsistent with the notion that she’s simply too bloody bright for everyone else. There also some hints at secrets in the background of the relationship of the twins (an incestuous fascination frustrated by Simon’s supposed homosexuality?).
Anyway, Amanda’s out of control and in no fit state to be the Bank’s public face in the EGM that will decide its fate. But when the already lesser Simon is completely floored by having his entire speech, word for word, given by Nova Bank’s representative, Claudia has to get Amanda in at the last second, for a crowd-turning speech that saves the day.
Am I the only viewer who is wondering if this miracle recovery was brought about by Claudia slipping Amanda a fix? Let’s see.
Before leaving this strand, let us pause to recognise that Simon isn’t quite the weak link he has been presented to be thus far. Claudia’s too busy putting out fires (and enjoying a surely premature sneer at Christensen) to care about the plagiarised speech, and the excitable Amanda dismisses it as Simon having been too bloody predictable, but he’s suspicious. Very suspicious. And on the right trail. It takes ripping the room apart, but episode 4 ends with Simon finding the wire-tap, with an entirely justifiable cackle.
I’ve saved the worst for last, and the worst is Maverick Mess. You already know what I think of him, but honestly, throughout these two hours, this idiot topped himself over and over again. I mean, at one point, his boss, Nanna, head of the Fraud Squad, screams in his face that he’s so bloody naive, he only sees things in black and white, which is spot on the money (he also can’t wait two seconds for anything, the big kid), and then the programme has him acting like he’s the winner, and in the right.
Basically, he and Alf, with the increasing assistance of the computer wizard, Henriette (this series’ version of The Bridge‘s John: there’s only ever one person who know how to do more with a computer than surf Facebook), are building a case. It starts with Nova Bank’s Bjarke Strand, the middle-manager on the Crisis Team, who selects which small businessmen are to be forced to the wall. Mess and Alf investigate him for signs of unreasonable wealth, of which there are none, until he’s caught stepping out with an attractive blonde (tsk. And he with the lovely and trusting Lise for a wife, plus eighteen month old twins).
Mess proposes to stalk Strand, get proof of his affair and blackmail him into coughing up, which is probably page 5 of the Fraud Squad Operating Model. Instead, it turns out far more than an affair. It’s a business deal, with prominent businessmen. The blonde is a professional Trustee in Bankruptcy, who sells off the businesses forfeited by Nova Bank (at a precise 7% below valuation every time), to these very businessmen.
Mess, very professionally, and now on page 7 of the Fraud Squad Operating Model, shows her photos of Hans Peter with his head in a pool of his own blood and shouts in her face until she inadvertently gives something away.
Moving on to page 8, he arrests Strand and, when he won’t talk, promptly calls in a favour and has the claustrophobic Strand taken to a spare cell in prison for the 24 hours until he has to be arraigned. Fur hilven! I don’t mean the Police cells, I mean an honest-to-goodness, doing-their-bird, fucking State Prison!
It works, of course, we are in idiot country here and given what issues the series is starting to develop (and I haven’t even finished exploring them all), we get stupidity like this? Strand knows nothing more than that he’s told who to push over the edge, from a higher-up department, but he has something interesting to tell them: he knew they were coming.
That catches our intrepid pair’s attention. Yes, Strand was warned they were on the way to arrest him, and was told to get out of the country for a few days, because it’ll all blow over, the fix is in, the case will not proceed, the Head of the Fraud Squad will kill it.
This isn’t actually news to the viewer. Episode 3 ended with Nanna insisting on getting every detail of the burgeoning case, and then calling on Christensen, though episode 4 suggested that she wasn’t entirely under his thumb, just going to make sure that the investigation didn’t get above a certain level at Nova Bank. Of course Mess, with that subtlety for which he’s famed, heads straight for this restaurant-cum-bar where Nanna is out with some bloke and accuses her at thhe top of his voice of being in Christensen’s pay. Smart cookie.
And yes, Nanna has to obey some orders. Christensen’s got a hold over her. And guess what it is? It’s all Mess’s illegal fuck-ups from series 1, over Energreen. Nanna covered for Mess and Alf over everything. She put her job on the line for him, and her reward was to have Christensen lean on her to interfere with this investigation, and the dumb, stupid, self-centred fuck can’t even lessen his contempt for her not being as pure in pursuit of crooks as he is.
Do you wonder why I loathe the self-righteous bastard?
What Nanna does next is resign, which is a highly principled step at deep personal cost to herself – cost brought on because Mess was such a stupid bastard in series 1, let’s remember – and what is the git’s response? I mean, she’s not just thrown herself on the sacrificial sword to protect him, she’s left them a lead that points directly to Christensen himself at the top of every woodpile. Does Mess how the slightest sign of personal responsibility? No, he’s just pleased to have an obstacle removed, and Alf drips on his neck that it’s Mess’s shining example that’s inspired Nanna to do the decent thing.
Do you wonder why I find this series confusing?
But that, even now, is not all. There is the lovely Kristina, Mess’s wife (though she doesn’t wear a ring), mother to his children, Esther (who has vanished without explanation) and Albert, and putative mother to a third baby. Only Kristina has sclerosis. And doubts.
Serious doubts. About her age, her condition, her future and the fact that she might not have a long one. She has very serious concerns about birthing a baby that may very well lose its mother at an incredibly young age. What mother, or possible mother, could face a late-life pregnancy in such circumstances without very deep thought about the consequences?
But Mess wants the baby. And what Mess wants, Mess has to get. It’s all dead simple to Mess. We didn’t have Esther and Albert under ideal circumstances. Look at this home movies of our children when they were dead young. It’ll all work out. It might not happen. I CAN’T THINK ABOUT IT.
There’s a line Mess has, when Kristine brings up the real chance that she might die sooner rather than later. “I can’t go around thinking that you’re dead already.” It shows that the scriptwriters are not entirely stupid. It’s an incredible line, I feel it, I understand it, I understand how this feels to him, all from that one line. He loves her, he doesn’t want to lose her.
But he’s also insisting on her having this baby, at her age, in her incurable medical condition, out of her body, with all her fears and doubts, and he’s prepared to emotionally blackmail her to get his way, and take a risk with shortening her life, and he won’t even fucking think about her side of it?
Do you seriously wonder why I loathe the self-centred twat?
So. Let’s hope for something a bit better next week. Suddenly, we have a story worth watching, worth thinking about. I just wish we had a set of ‘heroes’ I could better respect to play it out.
Honestly, we’ve had to wait two months for another Saturday night SkandiKrime series on BBC4, and when we get one, it’s this piece of half-assed tripe, starring Maverick Mess, Alf the Inscrutable and Claudia the high-flyer, who dabbled in high-finance fraud, got busted and is now having to make ends meet making coffee because no-one will give her a responsible job, can’t think why.
Oh, oh dear god, no, we have to put up with Nicky again, now working for the mysterious P.
I have my doubts about this before we start, I tell you, I have my doubts.
Nevertheless, let fairness prevail, especially as this season’s cast includes the fair Sonia Richter, the ultra-Christian v-logger provocateur of The Bridge 3, albeit with the most unflattering hairstyle possible.
To begin with, we have a lengthy recap of series 1, followed by an eighteen months later card. It may be eighteen months later but Mads the Maverick Mess is still obsessed with Claudia and Sander Sodergren (who lies dead on some foreign field, with P’s bullet in his left eye). Mads is a Mess with a Mission, which appears to be to relive series 1, but never mind, he will soon find another cause to blunder about in pursuit of, without any concern for procedure, practice or the Law. Before episode 1 is over, we will get the perfect Mess Moment: a disturbed man, ruined by Bank Fraud, has taken a branch hostage with a sawn-off shotgun, the Police have it under control, the hostage negotiator is on his way, but Mess can’t hang around, Mess has less patience than a five-year old separated from his packet of sweets, Mess charges in to talk to the man (the ever-brilliant Soren Malling in a far-too-small guest role), as a consequence of which he gets his head blasted off by a sharpshooter.
Sigh. The second series starts with an overwhelming credibility problem: how in Yog-Sothoth’s name is Mess still in the Fraud Squad when he can’t stand anything about the way it works and has to go off on crazy, personal jags all the time?
Having said all of this, and without detracting one little bit from it, I have to say that there’s the makings of a decent story underneath, showing through the general crud in fits and starts. We have two principal strands connected by the same villain, Sodergren’s boss, Knud Christensen, acting through his super-competent henchman, the quiet-spoken Swede, P.
Let’s start with Mess. Mess is approached by Hans Peter (Malling), a master carpenter whose once-thriving small business was forced into bankruptcy by his Bank, after promises of support. Hans Peter’s order book has ended up in the hands of another master carpenter, who only happens to be the brother of the Financial Adviser who cut him off. The bank is Nova Bank, headed by Christensen.
Hans Peter is gradually going off his head because no-one will listen to him, those no-ones including Mess, because the personally involved maverick always has to be motivated by the tiniest and most cliched of personal morality: I didn’t listen to an obviously disturbed man who pulled a shotgun on a bank of innocent hostages and git shot, therefore I am solely responsible for his death, not the fraudsters who drove him to this, and I must immediately find a rule-book, so I can rip it up in my pursuit of the truth. Please, can one day we have a policeman motivated by just doing the right thing?
Everybody but the born-again Mess (and his Inscrutable sidekick, who’s clearly been brain-washed over the last eighteen months, since he’s started taking Mess seriously without overwhelming evidence) thinks Hans Peter was an obsessive, but once Mess gets on the trail, people (i.e., P) start covering up (a-ha, it’s Messgate!) and by the end of episode 2 a second victim has come forward, offscreen.
Mess has also had his skull beat in with a pipe-wrench, whilst suffering no more than a cut scalp, which suggests a joke so obvious that you can write it for yourselves.
Incidentally, said pipe-wrench is being wielded by Nicky, who has learned nothing from his experiences of series 1 and is now working as an occasional bag-boy for P, that is, until the Swede has a heart-attack in episode 1 and has to start using Nicky as a leg-man. How can we tell Nicky has learned nothing? He is prepared, until his lovely blonde lady tartly reminds him what a fucking stupid idea it is, to let Bimse the Bozo come along on one of his jobs. So far, the Bozo has been somewhat underused but there are signs that this reprieve is only temporary.
But what of Claudia? This is where the series displays some genuine muscle, and has got me intrigued as to where it intends to go. Claudia has done her porridge and been released, alone and friendless: even her little kiddie wants nothing to do with her and wrenches her heart by calling her Claudia instead of Mummy. Claudia has work to do to get her life back on track. She’s been in chokey, she’s been disbarred, everybody knows she’s a fraud, which means liar, cheat, somewhat unreliable, the works.
And there’s Christensen, calling her in for an interview, deep sympathy, got to look after you, one of the family, everyone took in terribly by Sodergren, why don’t you look up your old college friend, Ulrikke, at this new, radically different, highly successful Absolen Bank that Nova wants to take over?
So Claudia visits Absolen Bank, to pitch an offer to brother and sister owners, Simon and Amanda Absolensen (the lovely Sonia). Christensen wants to buy you out. I don’t want him to succeed. If you hire me as a consultant, I can show you how to fight him off.
Ah, Claudia! It’s Shortcut City, Arizona-time at best, but there’s a considerable amount of curiosity in watching our favourite brunette operating in the manner that got her canned last time out. I mean, is the lovely Claudia on the level, or is she some deep-lying Fifth Columnist, inveigling herself into the Absolensen siblings’ confidence (well, Simon’s at any rate) only to bring them down from within and make them vulnerable to Christensen?
Or is she just so much of a moral vacuum that her underhanded, dirty, cheap methods – lies and entrapments, just to behind with, and just generally fucking over the ethical standards Absolen Bank exemplifies – will end up cracking the Bank wide open?
It’s far from impossible that Claudia is starting off in column B, i.e., noble purpose but moral swamp, and will transfer to column A just once she’s buggered the Bank with her dubious tactics.
And we know these strands to be interconnected, not merely because this is a ten-episode series with limited imagination, but because Nicky has planted a sophisticated listening device in the transparent glass lightshades of the Absolen family home conference room…
One last element to mention, so that we can duplicate as many elements of series 1 as possible: Mess is still married to the sclerosis-suffering Kristina (a welcome reappearance by the shopworn-but-still-lovely Lina Krause) who’s not having an affair with her doctor this time, but who is definitely showing some signs of low esteem because she’s sticking to Mess despite his habit of sitting up all night reading Hans Peter’s file instead of coming to bed with her. The sclerosis isn’t an active issue at present, she’s well enough for him to screw her on his desk, but episode 2 ends with her announcement that she’s pregnant.
That, I think, is enough to set up another month of my sub-Clive Jamesian snarkings. Not all Saturday SkandiKrime can be The Bridge, or The Killing, but it’s still fascinating by virtue of the underlying strengths and elements Danish TV brings to a genre that is near enough played out in the UK, and when it falls short of the very high standards it can reach, I’m always prepared to slap its cliched and unimaginative face for it.