Case Sensitive: The Other Half Lives, episode 2 - and TV dramas' length

Case Sensitive: The Other Half Lives concluded tonight, and a lot of plot development was packed into an hour. This meant that some bits of the narrative seemed rushed – especially in the way that the two detectives got together, seemingly out of the blue. This made me wonder about the pros and cons of splitting up a crime drama like this, in two hour-long episodes, shown on successive nights, in this case a Thursday and a Friday. What is the best way of presenting a TV crime drama?

In the 1980s, the early and best days of Taggart, stories were split into three episodes, each an hour long, shown in successive weeks. This template worked extremely well for the clever and complex Glenn Chandler stories, and I was hooked time after time. For me, this remains classic TV crime.

Conversely, the rather stately place of early two-hour single story episodes of Inspector Morse had a different kind of appeal. One was drawn in by the mood of the show, as well as the story-line (and, of course, the superb acting, high-calibre screenplays, and fantastic setting.)  This model continues to work brilliantly with Lewis, and overall the Oxford-based series are my favourites in the two-hour format. I’ve also enjoyed Inspector George Gently, and Vera, which are based on the same approach.

The Case Sensitive template has been used, for instance, in the adaptations of the books of two fine writers, Peter Robinson and Mark Billingham. I’m not myself convinced, though, that the two-parter is such a great idea. Really, it’s neither one thing nor the other. The Other Half Lives was watchable, but somehow, I felt, more could have been made of Sophie Hannah’s material.

Case Sensitive: The Other Half Lives

Case Sensitive: How the Other Half Lives is a two-part series based on a book by Sophie Hannah that I haven’t read. Nor did I see the first Case Sensitive series, which hit the screens last year – somehow, I missed it completely. But I rather enjoyed the first part of this story, although I suspect the novel has many more layers of complexity.

Charlie and Simon, Hannah’s series cops, are played by Olivia Williams and Darren Boyd, who don’t correspond with my mental impression of the characters. All the same, Olivia Williams did impress me;  she is a very good actor. Boyd’s role was subordinate, and it’s too soon for me to judge his performance.

The story concerns a very attractive acquaintance of Charlie’s, played by Eva Birthistle, who leaves her husband for an enigmatic piano tuner called Aiden. He confides that he once hurt a woman, but annoyingly refuses to divulge more. Even more infuriatingly, he then complains that his lover should “trust” him, though one is tempted to respond that trust is a two-way thing.

When the woman’s husband is found murdered, Aiden is the obvious suspect, but by the end of this episode, she was in the frame. I expect more twists, and I shall certainly be tuning in to find out what happens. I’m a fan of Hannah’s work and I hope that the two programmes, taken together, do justice to a writer who combines psychological insight with a flair for plot.