Waking The Dead used to be one of my favourite TV crimes shows. Not any more.
The latest series has just got too silly for words. The first story in the new series was some daft tale about nuns, Travellers, hallucingenics and a 2,000 year-old “Druid cult” (sic) that appeared to be Fight Club reinterpreted by the Michael Clarke Dance Company. I didn’t bother to watch the second part.
The second story lost my interest after just half an hour – it was something to do with a missing skull, torture, British colonial history, the Sudan and another daft cult that involved secret oaths and dressing-up.
The third story, part 1 of which was shown last night, involved the Stock Exhange, international banking, the Roberto Calvi murder and the Banco Ambrosiano scandal. Oh, and Opus Dei. (Can you see a pattern here?)
Obviously, I won’t be watching the concluding part tonight. It’s a pity. Both Sue Johnson and Trevor Eve are fine actors with impressive bodies of work; watching this rubbish, I’m finding myself getting embarrassed for them. It’s like watching your old headmistress pole-dancing.
WTD used to be the Brit answer to CSI (which I quite like, despite its bizarre ideas of what technology is capable of – DNA analysis in 10 minutes flat, grainy CCTV images blown up to reveal faces reflected in an eyeball, that sort of thing). The way it’s currently going, the show is threatening to turn into a Stephen King-scripted version of Midsomer Murders.