Cold Feet: a satisfying hour in the company of old friends
It’s always incredibly risky to revive a much-loved show. Few manage to recreate the magic, let alone match the success. Porridge, Red Dwarf and Still Open All Hours have all been dusted off and brought back to our screens, and are still chugging away, but with a fraction of the viewers and former acclaim. Cold Feet (ITV, Friday) is the exception.
When showrunner Mike Bullen reunited the original cast of now-fortyand fiftysomethings, it was ITV’S biggest drama launch of the year. What could have been yet another reboot disappointment turned out to be a warm, funny and welcome catch-up with old friends – and one that proved to be forward-thinking with its well-handled storyline about Pete’s (John Thomson) depression.
And so we caught-up with the Manchester gang once again, but this time only a few months on from when we saw them last. The marvellous Leanne Best now seems to be a permanent member of the cast as Adam’s new girlfriend. And this time it was former-womaniser Adam (since reformed by his now deceased wife Rachel), who was keen to move forward with their relationship.
Hapless David (Robert Bathurst), meanwhile, also seemed to have changed his trajectory of bad luck and poor decision-making as, over the course of the episode, his fortunes were improved by an unlikely source: the rich customer with whom chauffeur Pete struck up a conversation.
In truth, this opener wasn’t the finest that Cold Feet has produced, with the jokes mostly being made at the expense of the much-mocked “millennials” that were open-minded enough to employ middle-aged Adam (James Nesbitt) in their trendy start-up business or book publisher Karen’s (Hermione Norris) hip, young author whose success goes to her head apparently overnight (and God forbid that she should ask for some sparkling water while faced with a large queue of fans wanting autographs).
The problems, too, felt rather contrived: Tina’s reservations about moving in with Adam were explained as little more than her worry that it might “wreck things”. And Jenny’s jealousy over Tina and Karen’s growing friendship seemed fairly natural, but who invites a friend to the pub only to rudely scarper when they sit down with a full glass (as they did)?
Fortunately, so soothingly familiar are these characters that an hour spent in their company is satisfying enough. And the plot seeds that were sown here suggest that this will be another fun, largely sensitive exploration of middle age. Catherine Gee
We’ve only just been introduced, but already the small-screen incarnation of JK Rowling’s slouching detective Cormoran Strike (Tom Burke) feels like an old friend. Having untangled the enjoyably implausible mystery of Cuckoo’s Calling, the sulky sleuth sloped back for a second adventure in
The Silkworm (BBC One, Sunday). Yet, where the earlier three-parter was Inspector Morse with a pinch of Agatha Christie, the latest was in the more contemporary and grisly tradition of True Detective. Controversial author Owen Quine had vanished – after posting manuscripts of his latest novel to acquaintances whose dirty laundry the book was set to expose.
Enter pithy PI Cormoran. He was earning a decent living rumbling cheating spouses but yearned for a challenge worthy of a formidable intellect concealed beneath layers of grumpy indifference.
He got that and more as he tracked down the missing Owen Quine – or what was left of him – to a dilapidated house. A partially dismembered corpse testified to the gruesome skills of the BBC special effects department.
It will also have given Harry Potter fans a peek into the darker side of Rowling’s imagination. Who knew that, alongside broomsticks and talking hats, she was a sucker for flayed torsos, acid scalding and ritual disembowelling?
As with Cuckoo’s Calling, the story descended into a game of big-budget Cluedo. The murder was a copycat of a killing at the conclusion of Quine’s unpublished manuscript. The guilty party was therefore one of the rogue’s gallery savaged by the novel. Was it the Icy Agent? The Bitter Literary Foe? The Doormat Wife?
Strike is that rare TV detective not to come with a pre-packaged gimmick – no quirky car, scenestealing mullet or “mind palace” – and, despite the guts and gore, catching up with him for his latest excursion was as comfortable as slipping on your favourite tatty slippers. Ed Power
Cold Feet
Strike – The Silkworm