Such is the ubiquity of crime dramas nowadays that, were I to come across a blood-spattered corpse while walking the dog, I would be more inclined to look around for the attendant film crew than call the police. So how to breathe new life into serial killer series? If you’re Rellik (11 September, 9pm, BBC1), you look to Christopher Nolan’s Memento or Gaspar Noé’s Irréversible for inspiration, and tell the story backwards. If only Midsomer Murders had thought of this.
Rellik (it’s “killer” backwards – geddit?) tells the tale of a murder investigation in reverse chronology. Thus, after seeing the apparent perpetrator cornered, the action spools back in time, pressing play at crucial points to dump great big slabs of exposition into the story while wilfully upending our understanding of what we think we already know. At the centre of this topsy-turvy tale is Met detective Gabriel Markham (Richard Dormer, AKA him with the eyepatch off Game of Thrones), whose face has been badly disfigured after being doused in acid by the killer in question. All of which means – and excuse me while I adopt the thundering tone of a Hollywood action movie trailer – this time it’s personal.
Written by Harry and Jack Williams, who penned child abduction thriller The Missing, and directed by Sam Miller (Luther), Rellik joins the likes of this year’s Born to Kill and In the Dark in aiming to show that it’s not just Scandinavia that can churn out edgy crime dramas. Certainly, Rellik fancies itself as darkly stylish, evident in its sludgy colour palette – the monosyllabic coppers, the granite skies – and a portentous electronic soundtrack that, in moments of high drama, gives way to annoying faux-tribal drumming.
It stands to reason that Gabriel is a brooder, a quality that one imagines was discussed when he interviewed for the job (“I see that you’ve secured a lot of convictions and keep on top of your paperwork, Mr Markham. All very impressive but, if you want to fit in around here, you’ll need to know how to frown intensely …”)
In fairness, given the unfortunate incident with the acid, you can understand why Gabriel might have a few anger issues. His boss is minded to take him off the case and his doctor would like him to slow down, but he won’t go because, you see, Gabriel is A Proper Man. In case that isn’t clear, he shags his improbably glamorous police partner, Elaine (Jodi Balfour), in a pub car park, then turfs her out of his motor and goes home to his hatchet-faced wife who, he intimates, hasn’t exactly been the model partner herself. Gabriel may have been through the wringer, but he’s also a bit of a dickhead.
Still, there’s work to be done. There are seven dead victims, heads and fingertips melted in acid; a suspect off his meds and running around covered in blood; a psychiatrist fixated on cleanliness, like an evil Niles Crane; and assorted hard-of- thinking cops who say things like “the sooner we find this bastard the better”. Telling the story backwards might have sounded clever at the script stage but, in the event, it does little more than turn a whodunnit into a “did-he- really-do-it?”. Frankly, playing it forwards at double-speed might have worked better. The sooner Markham can put the case to bed and enjoy some much-needed me time, the better.
