Jan Moir’s verdict on the Broadchurch finale
(so what on earth WILL we do on Monday nights now!)
AfTER eight weeks, a dozen suspects, a hundred theories and a thousand gem lettuces sold by Sir Lenny Henry in the farm shop, the beast of Broadchurch has finally been unmasked.
Last night around ten million tuned in to discover that it was brash rope salesman Leo Humphries (Chris Mason) who attacked Trish Winterman (Julie Hesmondhalgh) with a child’s cricket bat, then coerced taxi driver’s son Michael Lucas (Deon LeeWilliams) into raping her at the birthday party way back in episode one. Leo was also arrested in connection with three further offences of rape, most of which he had filmed. Why?
‘I wanted to remember it, I wanted to see myself,’ said Leo, who said he felt ‘proud’ of himself.
The bleak denouement came after a handful of suspects had been arrested in a flurry of action in an action packed final episode.
As he was quizzed by the police, with a psychopathic grin on his face, it was clear that sick Leo had been hiding in plain sight all along, smug in the shadows of the major suspects.
As he proudly admitted to his crimes, it was case closed for the last ever Broadchurch mystery in this third and final series.
DI Hardy (David Tennant) and DS Miller (Olivia Colman) can now congratulate themselves as they ride off into the sunset, still bickering as they go, safe in the knowledge that the streets in this oddly ultra-violent seaside town have been swept clean of wrongdoing for ever.
Thanks to these two charismatic leads, Broadchurch has become one of the most successful police dramas of recent times. The eightpart series attracted huge audiences each week, despite its panoply of flaws and a tendency to annoy as well as entertain.
Consider the evidence, my fellow Broadchurch fans. The sinister background music was always too loud! So, on occasion, was howling DI Hardy, who was going full Braveheart from episode three onwards. And don’t you think there was too heavy a reliance on the blue twine as a Major Clue and plot device? That bloody twine! It bound the victim, but it also trussed up beetroots, sat prettily on a shelf in the rope shop and hid in a bush for nearly two months. It should have had a show of its own – and it very nearly did.
Writer Chris Chibnall – who now goes off to work on the new Doctor Who series – was back on form after the disaster that was Broadchurch series two with its turgid courtroom scenes and lack of a satisfactory conclusion.
Here, he was determined to include elements of social conscience and political correctness into his last crimestoppers script.
There was a positive view of the experience of reporting a sexual assault, in particular the careful and supportive treatment of Trish during her examination in the rape centre. There was DS Miller wielding those giant cotton buds and bagging evidence with her special expression of throbbing concern, while DI Hardy voiced his dismay about police funding cuts.
‘Sexual offences never get the same resources as murder,’ he complained.
Elsewhere Sir Lenny Henry proved that celebrity casting has its drawbacks. As lovelorn farm shop manager Ed Burnett, he never quite shook off his starry status, clearly believing that it was he who was the cherry on the Broadchurch cake – when everyone knows that position is reserved for the goddess that is Olivia Colman. My only complaint about her is that it is she – and not Tennant – who should be the superior officer.
Even so, it seemed to take an age for McBatman and Miss Robin to solve a relatively straightforward crime in a small community. Clues piled up like driftwood, but were largely ignored as Hardy went on a Tinder date (what was all that about?) and attended to his troubled daughter, while Miller smashed her son’s smartphone with a hammer.
Meanwhile, how could a police fingertip search of the party venue grounds have failed to turn up a dirty great football sock drenched in DNA? It took a passing doggie to dig it up. Well, that was all part of the fun. The Brits are a nation who adore crossword puzzles, jigsaws, quizzes – and a good, old-fashioned whodunnit. Clues, red herrings, dead ends – the cops might miss them, but they bring out the amateur detective in everyone at home.
Many viewers thought that the dodgy vicar was the culprit; could the Rev Coates (Arthur Darvill) have done it in the vestry with the candlestick? Or was it the posh landlord Arthur Tamworth (Richard Hope)in the field with the lead piping?
In the end it was Leo Humphries, the handsome young man with everything to live for, but who had become sick and corroded by a porn habit that found him watching two hours of hard core pornography every day – and who tried to corrupt others into enjoying it with him. Poor Michael was only 16 and unwilling – now his life is in tatters, too.
DEvOTEES who had favoured other suspects – I was convinced it was ex-husband Ian Winterman (Charlie Higson) may have felt slightly cheated, but DS Miller’s rage and fury at the ghastliness of some men were majestic to behold.
Many things have made Broadchurch a success, including the magical location.
All three series have been filmed in various places, but the defining image of ‘Broadchurch’ is of the harbour settlement of West Bay in Dorset. ‘This stupid place with its stupid cliffs,’ is how DI Hardy describes it and indeed, the landscape was impossible to overlook. The giant ochre frill of the Jurassic Coast loomed over all three series with silent menace, casting a shadow – figuratively and literally – over the golden sands.
Here, bodies and barbeques could be found on the beach, while more than one suicide was contemplated on the lonely cliff tops. Each day, fresh suspicion, fear and Bafta award nominations would roll in with the morning waves.
Niggles apart Broadchurch was marvellous fun – but the tide has turned forever. What are we going to do on Monday nights now?