The River Lea, north-east London, and a dredger is doing its thing. Dredging. Oh dear, I think I know where it’s going, this being the return of Chris Lang’s crime drama Unforgotten (ITV). Yes, here’s a suitcase, pulled from the mud after God knows how many years. The workers prise it open …
Jesus! Did you pack this yourself, sir? Although there is no one around to ask. Finding out what is packed in it, who packed it, when and why, is down to DCI Cassie Stuart (Nicola Walker) and DI Sunny Khan (Sanjeev Bhaskar), who are both excellent.
It is a body, of course, though barely recognisable as one. He (it turns out) is in the foetal position; possibly because, other than chopping it up, it is the only way to get a body into a suitcase. If you are looking for positives to take from a suitcase ending, there is a certain symmetry to it – you finish as you began. Anyway, there is not much in the way of flesh; instead, the skeleton is covered in a thin white waxy film. It is a process known as saponification, helped by the chemical makeup of the River Lea and the fat content of the person; basically, he has been turned into soap.
Now for the other stuff. In the Cotswolds, a worried mum, also a police officer as it happens, and nearing retirement, has a drink with her son, who pretends not to be lonely. In Brighton, a gay couple are in the process of adopting a little girl. In London, two sisters, both of whom live in the shadow of the Shard, although one more opulently than the other, are not behaving in a very sisterly way. And, in Salisbury, an inspiring teacher applies for a headship.
As he did in the first series of Unforgotten, Lang will take these apparently disparate strands, attach them (blue gloves on, please) at one end to our soapy suitcase corpse, and weave them into a picture that makes sense. Last time it was done with incredible dexterity and imagination, and it shows all the signs of being done that way again. Already, at the end of this first episode, a corner of the picture, the one with the Cotswolds mother and son, is beginning to emerge.
I like so much about Unforgotten. That it is not trying to be too smartarse (Sherlock?) clever. Or Scandi-bleak. Cassie and Sunny aren’t tortured geniuses with dark secrets. They have their relationship/family troubles (who hasn’t?), but they work well together. They are credible, real and, refreshingly, they are really into what they do; it rubs off, I am enjoying the procedural police work, too, finding out about old pagers and watches.
But it is also very human, and it never lets you forget that the slimy chap is not just a case in a case; he was also someone’s husband, father, son and friend. I am excited to find out how it all weaves together, to see the completed picture. I also care.
In Spies (Channel 4), 16 volunteers are put through tests to find out if they have what it takes to be in the intelligence services. A lot of inner confidence, no need for lots of public praise or recognition, an interest in other people and the ability to get into other people’s minds and to blend in, of course, according to the former spies – Control – who are overseeing procedures. Actually, there are 15 volunteers, because one of the 16 is a mole from Control, inevitably. (You would think they would have suspected that: I’m not hopeful about this lot.)
Spies is made by the same people who made the addictive SAS: Who Dares Wins, and follows a similar formula. But it is less successful televisually because watching hard men being broken in special forces training is more fun than seeing people try to come up with convincing cover stories or trying to follow a man around Brixton. The tests are based on real intelligence officer training exercises, which does give the whole thing authenticity, but it seems that real-life spying is not The Night Manager.
Nice location for their base, though: a disused, Soviet-looking, concrete industrial facility, the identity of which is not disclosed, although my intelligence reveals that is Fawley power station near Southampton. From where it is probably possible to make out – even spy on – the real No 1 military training establishment along the coast at Stokes Bay …
Hey, I’d be better at this than any of these clowns. Come on, I’m ready, tap me on the shoulder, someone. Or however it’s done these days – probably a direct message on Twitter.
