Stepford drama that’s less whodunit than done to who
The school gates can be a sinister place, with competitive alpha mums swapping scurrilous gossip and scaring the awkward beta dads. This was the starting point for Big (Sky Atlantic), the latest thoroughbred drama to come galloping out of the HBO stable: an adaptation of Liane Moriarty’s bestseller about a mysterious death in a postcard-perfect Californian seaside community. Think Broadchurch meets Desperate Housewives.
This opening episode was cunningly structured, so we discovered that murder had taken place at a school fundraising night but weren’t told the victim. Not so much a whodunit as a dunit-to-who. We then flashed back to the first day of term to see how it all began with one little darling accusing a classmate of trying to choke her.
The series has a head-turningly heavyweight cast, led by Oscarwinners Nicole Kidman and Reese Witherspoon. The rest of the ensemble wasn’t too shabby either, including Alexander Skarsgård, Laura Dern and Shailene Woodley. Indeed, the latter stole the first episode from under her more famous co-stars’ cute button noses, charismatically playing Jane Chapman, a young single mother with a secret past and a gun under her pillow.
However, this Stepford-esque suburban noir felt a tad derivative. The “ripples spreading out from act of violence against a child” plot was reminiscent of The Slap and the absurdly affluent setting recalled glossy super-soaps from Dynasty to The OC.
The biting, blackly comic script by Ally McBeal writer David E Kelley was unconvincing at times – in my experience, teenagers grunt and drawl rather than speak in perfectly formed soundbites – while JeanMarc Vallée’s direction was selfconsciously cinematic.
The gratuitous lifestyle porn began to grate too, although that might have been partly envy. Everyone brunched by infinity pools or stared broodingly out of floor-to-ceiling windows with ocean views. Their kitchens alone were bigger than my house.
This intriguing scene-setter will probably bring me back next week but I didn’t want to watch the next episode straight away, like one tends to with top-drawer US dramas. Besides, I’m reluctant to brave the school gates much more often than I already do.
David Tennant’s dour cop in Broadchurch (ITV) had gone too far this time. DI Alec Hardy has form for irascible ranting. Remember his memorable outburst of “Bloody Twitter!” back in series one or the countless times he’s chuntered on about how much he dislikes the idyllic town and its “sea air, annoying sand and stupid people”?
Suddenly, though, the stubbly sleuth started on our egg-based snacks. “Eat your stupid Scotch egg and leave me alone!” he barked at sidekick DS Ellie Miller (Olivia Colman). Steady on, Hardy. Complain about our social networks and coastal communities all you like, but if you want to insult our picnic classics, you’ll have to get past me first.
This third episode of the crime drama found bickering duo Hardy and Miller doggedly sniffing around their prime suspects for the brutal rape of Trish Winterman (Julie Hesmondhalgh, who continues to wow with her devastating portrayal of trauma). As one incidental character said: “An act like this sullies everything. It sullies us all.” Hardy later added: “This case makes me ashamed to be a man.”
Could it have been lying taxi driver Lucas (Sebastian Armesto), who has a stash of property stolen from his passengers and, almost as ominously, has dropped his unfashionable first name, Clive? Or Trish’s permanently furious boss Ed Burnett (Lenny Henry), last seen stomping off towards the crime scene “looking like he wanted to kill somebody”? Or her estranged husband Ian (Charlie Higson), who blacked out after a tequila binge and woke up on the grass by the waterfall, just like Trish?
This third series is proving a welcome reminder of what hooked 10 million of us during Broadchurch’s debut run. Writer Chris Chibnall is moving his narrative chess pieces around masterfully – drip-feeding us clues and revelations, misdirecting our attention, subtly shifting suspicion from one character to another.
It’s chewy, meaty drama and Chibnall is leaving a tantalising trail of breadcrumbs.