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While it comes as no surprise that Luther has garnered notoriety and attention for its title character's weekly investigations of lurid, often grisly, crimes, that is merely the sensationalistic surface that leads to and enriches the true substance underneath--that of writer/series creator Neil Cross's more overarching thematic concerns and, most of all, the psychology of his characters. And so it goes with the second part of the second series' first of two installments; with last week's episode serving more of a "re-set the stage" hour, a simple but incredibly telling lingering shot of DCI John Luther's (Idris Elba) face right before the opening titles pretty much announce that it's back to plunging into more perilous internal waters. While the pursuit of masked murderer Cameron Pell (Lee Ingleby) is as urgent as ever it is so beyond merely keeping the mean streets of London that much safer; as one would expect, the key to capturing Cameron lies in Luther's expert investigative acumen, but even with Luther's partner DS Justin Ripley (Warren Brown) in immediate danger, it also, rather ironically, means him casting aside any sense of human attachment.
For someone so often driven by intense passion and emotion as Luther, this is something a lot easier said than done, but it's a major credit to Elba, Cross, and director Sam Miller how this develops so subtly yet rather surely as the hour progresses, not to mention how Cross interweaves this idea of masks and identity into every plot concern as well as bring the more important ideas clearly to the fore. The serial killer plot does offer up its share of suspense and screams as it works to its Case of the (Two) Week(s) resolution, and the quiet dread with which Miller builds to its climax (aided in no small part to Paul Englishby's haunting score) is far more potent than the rather hackneyed walk through shadowy corridors that capped off last week. But this procedural thread fluidly recedes into the background somewhat and a subplot from the previous week, that of young prostitute Jenny Jones (Aimee Ffion-Edwards), gains prominence. Luther's rescue of Jenny leads to a dramatic encounter with her ruthless boss Baba (Pam Ferris), an even scarier figure than Cameron, but it also comes to inform the greater idea introduced last week by psycho-in-residence Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson): that of breaking away and starting fresh--but also, more importantly, being free to pursue what you want as who you are. When asked by Ripley why he wears a mask, Cameron simply replies, "Wearing a mask makes it easy"--a statement whose veracity is reinforced later, when team leader DCU Martin Schenk grills a perp (in a truly spectacular scene for Schenk's portrayer, Dermot Crowley) and too truthfully declares "It's amazing how our faces betray us."
And, going back to that pre-title shot of Luther, it is clear that while the veneer shows him as ideally on-the-ball as as he's ever been as a cop, it's just that--a mask that, indeed, makes it "easier." While his colleagues commend him--an amusingly far cry from series 1, where for however well he did, there was always that air of unease and distrust--leave it to his twisted kin Alice to effortlessly recognize what is truly going on within Luther. Wilson's screen time this week is once again limited, but once again does she ever make it count; in an hour with Cameron and his mask, Baba and her hammer (figuratively and literally), and one hell of an intimidating monologue by Schenk, it says it all that Luther's encounter with Alice is, as usual, the most tense and unsettling scene of them all, what with the ongoing threat not of physical violence, but of the psychological and emotional sort. That, indeed, does manifest in Alice's ever-creepy yet ever-alluring way with words, but most disturbingly in Luther's cold, uncharacteristically detached (non-)reaction, appearing to have succeeded in completely sacrificing and assimilating his identity into the monolithic mask of duty. But Alice knows best, for not long after they part, Luther commits a generous gesture of kindness--and, while the hour ends with various relationships and circumstances again juggled and redrawn, as Cross has shown us all episodes prior, however much Luther means well for others, it almost assuredly won't mean the same for himself.
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If last year's first series of Luther has taught us anything, it's that however straightforward and simple anything (or, perhaps more importantly, anyone) appears in writer/series creator Neil Cross's dark detective saga, it rarely ever is. Even bearing that in mind, the remarkable swiftness and relative tidiness and ease with which Cross and director Sam Miller have hit the reset button in the opening moments of series 2--especially coming after the harrowing, despairing, boldly unresolved wallop of a note the show left off on--is rather startling. Murderous psycho Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson) has taken full responsibility for the climactic events of last series and is finally behind bars, freeing DCI John Luther (Idris Elba) to resume his lawman duties. He quickly rescues loyal partner DS Justin Ripley (Warren Brown) from between-series demotion, and soon the pair are back on the mean streets of London as part of a new investigative unit headed by DCU Martin Schenk (Dermot Crowley), once one of Luther's biggest detractors; an even more surprising peace appears to have been reached between Luther and Mark North (Paul McGann), one-time fiance of Luther's beloved ex Zoe. (And on a more surface note, the first glimpses of Luther himself show him in a state of undress, taking his time putting on that familar rumpled detective suit--perhaps the BBC's shamelessly pandering way to generate some of that Elba-fueled Takers buzz for this series?)
But what immediately follows once Luther is fully dressed--after taking a seat in his disheveled apartment, he puts a pistol to his head in a spin of Russian roulette--just as quickly rattles the viewer back to the gritty reality; even stripped bare and given the chance to start anew, the pain remains, and his old patterns quickly re-emerge. The players' positions have been rearranged and certain circumstances may have changed, Cross appears to be saying, but certain fundamental realities remain inescapable, and it is impossible to truly proceed as if business were as usual. As Luther and Ripley plunge themselves back into work and the investigation of a typically lurid series of crimes committed by a masked psycho, the familiar Case of the Week (or, rather, "Case of the Two Weeks," for this abbreviated four-hour second series consists of a pair of two-part installments) beats are dutifully hit, the scars of past events still reverberate. Mark and Luther are on decent terms, but vestiges of old tensions linger beneath the decorum. While the perhaps most honorable and by-the-book character of the whole show, the cost Ripley had to pay for his Luther loyalty instills fear and trepidation by one of the pair's new teammates. And while he went out of his way to earn him another chance, Schenk reminds Luther that he is still on as short a leash as ever--and that entails strict orders to avoid all contact with Alice.
But, of course, even locked up, her scary/sexy siren call proves to be too strong for Luther to resist, and as Elba and Wilson's scenes together were in the first series, their tĂȘte-a-tĂȘte here is the definite highlight of this episode, bristling with tension, crackling with chemistry. Incarceration has done nothing to "cure" Alice of her warped view of the world, nor dull her astute powers of perception. Cross wisely leaves it to Alice and her otherworldly yet grounded manner of speaking to state what I fully expect to be the focal, underlying concern of these four hours: Luther's choice between his destructively obsessive devotion to his ongoing mission for justice and that of a fresh break and the pursuit of a new life--which could very well lead to the salvation he needs.
In the meantime, though, Luther is still on the case, and the episode closes with a suspenseful final stretch somewhat cheapened at the very end by a gimmick generally reserved as a crutch for lesser thrillers--but I recognize that as a bit of a "tune in next week!" cliffhanging concession to the two-part installment structure of this go-round. If the tease for next week is any indication, this particular case may head to a close but the real meat of the ongoing character and thematic drama truly starts up, with the barely-suppressed internal and interpersonal demons breaking to the surface--and that, not any psychopath of the week, is what Luther is really all about.
Buy the Luther series 1 DVD here.
Sign up for notifications on Neil Cross's Luther: The Calling prequel novel here.
In the gripping, twisting six-episode run of Luther, writer/series creator Neil Cross has done a remarkable job of having his cake and eating it too, in a creative (in every sense) manner of speaking: satisfying both the formula requirements of the police/investigative procedural but at the same time venturing into the unexpected, particularly by way of the unusually rich characterizations. After setting up an incredibly trying, cliffhanging predicament for DCI John Luther (Idris Elba)--on top of the many other already-running concerns--leading into the finale episode, it would only reasonably follow for this hour to be even more plot-driven than normal, and early indications point to, if not exactly a clean resolution, then something approaching a more traditional sense of closure. But much like his protagonist, Cross chooses to not only not go the expected route but sidestep any sort of easy out; owing to his literary roots, his focus here isn't so much on a tidy completion of the overall story arc than the culmination of the characters and the greater thematic concerns.
Of course, these greater concerns are, as Cross has deftly done in previous episodes, organic extensions of the plot. Coming full circle with the opening of the series, Luther is on the obsessive hunt for the perpetrator of a horrible crime, but now with the added baggage of both his previous mental break and his particular closeness to this case, he himself is being pursued by the authorities as prime suspect--thus revealing and confirming Luther's colleagues' true feelings about him. However eager she was to have Luther's skill and determination back on her team, it's clear that his boss, DCU Rose Teller (Saskia Reeves), never fully (re-)trusted him; one step further is DCI Martin Schenk (Dermot Crowley), who after having kept a watchful eye on Luther's conduct, seems almost giddy at the prospect of having something concrete on which to bust him. On the flip side, the true depths of Luther's partner DS Justin Ripley's (Warren Brown) loyalty and trust come to the fore, and clearly reveals him as being one of the only two people with any clear understanding of his character.
The other person, of course, is Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson), with whom Luther, with quite literally nowhere else to turn, reluctantly allies himself--thus not only further cementing the yin/yang, two sides of the same coin parallel Cross has drawn from episode 1, but also boiling the series back down to the fundamental conflict in their respective worldviews: the belief in the existence of love (him) or the world's utter indifference (her). It's no spoiler to say that the answer ultimately rules in Luther's favor--after all, his often over-passionate, but never less than pure, love for estranged wife Zoe (Indira Varma) is one of his primary motivations--but in keeping with Cross's own world view as evidenced in this series, the answer carries with it a myriad of realistically complex, sometimes seemingly contradictory, and always painfully true dimensions. There is love as in Ripley's idealistic lawman loyalty to Luther, but then there's the more twisted but not at all dissimilar devotion Alice has for him. Then there's how the awareness of love's existence can be used as a weapon of manipulation; or, more sincerely but often even more damaging, how love can be so strong as to drive one to act on violent, passionate impulse.
And then there is Luther himself, who exemplifies how the truest, most honest belief in love could be the only thing that can elevate a human above savage animals--and by the hour's end, it is he, for all the more questionable and destructive (to others and most especially himself) acts he has committed, who recognizes that compassion and mercy is a valid, maybe even the best, choice in the face of the most trying and horrific circumstances. But in making that boldest and humane of choices, it leaves one vulnerable to misleading perceptions and very reasonable doubt--making the closing song choice of Nina Simone's "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" all too apt, not just in terms of DCI John Luther's situation but that of Cross and the series as a whole. The messy outcome of the tense final moments may leave audiences echoing Luther's final line and thus starving for a second series, but should a follow-up not materialize--though I sincerely hope there will be one--Cross and director Stefan Schwartz, despite any viewer frustration at the absence of a television-conventional close, could not have summed up the deeper, more prominent ideas at work in a more effective, satisfying, and fittingly chilling and haunting manner.
Neil Cross, you sneaky bastard. It seems the (relatively) lower key and detachment of episode 4 of Luther was the series writer/creator's clever way of leaving the audience even more shellshocked by the truly stunning developments in the series' penultimate installment. Initially Cross and new director Stefan Schwartz appear to be picking up on the more conventional note of the last episode, setting up a kidnapping-for-ransom story in rather expectedly grisly fashion (namely, a severed tongue--which, naturally, is just a warm-up for things to come). But unlike the aberration of episode 4, this Case of the Week follows what had been the modus operandi of Cross in the first three: the procedural plot as an entry point to further illuminate and dissect the characters and their relationships. But Cross even manages to surprise at this angle; by the midpoint the episode is no longer so much about the kidnapping as it is taking a hard look not at DCI John Luther (Idris Elba) but longtime colleague DCI Ian Reed (Steven Mackintosh). At first the greater emphasis strikes a bit odd given Reed's heretofore fairly background status, but in keeping with how intricately layered Cross has structured this series, the further exploration of Reed leads to explanations and motivations for some of his decisions in previous installments, not to mention sheds light on perhaps why he and Luther share such a strong bond in the first place.
So goes Cross and Schwartz's remarkable job of not only building the tension, but also gradually widening the scope and raising the dramatic stakes as the hour progresses. First Luther feels the stress of merely the Case of the Week and its compounding complications; then it's the ever-volatile relations with his colleagues on the force; then it's the continuing drama with wife Zoe (Indira Varma), which reaches a new crisis point; and by the truly wrenching dual climaxes, all these threads have organically converged into one incredibly difficult (to put it very mildly) situation for Luther and everyone in his orbit. It's a reflection of the harrowing emotional roller coaster of this episode--further intensified by the incredibly powerful performances by Elba, Mackintosh, and Varma--that Luther's weekly encounter with scary psycho Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson) is actually the hour's quietest moment--but it's perhaps the most emblematic of the entire series, as it distills what clearly has always been Cross's central concern. As all these external forces and circumstances close in on Luther, the biggest challenge is not to his smarts or his skill or even his sanity, but to the very core of who he is: his driving faith in--despite all the emptiness and ugliness he regularly encounters--the existence of love in world. As a massive cliffhanger sets the stage for a full-circle finale that again finds him on a single-minded mission fueled by passion and rage, Luther's success--and salvation--wholly rests on the confirmation or denial of his defining belief.
After the top-to-bottom intensity and major character and story arc shifts of last week's installment, it's not at all shocking that the fourth episode of Luther finds the tone and pace dialed down a bit. What is surprising, though, is that this episode is not merely calmer relative to the last, but that director Sam Miller (who also helmed episode 3) uses a gentler hand and a lower key, period--and for an episode that, while not as pivotal as the previous one, does not lack for either important overall plot developments or lurid subject matter. The latter respect comes by way of DCI John Luther's (Idris Elba) Case of the Week, which centers on no less than not only a serial murderer of women, but one with a serious handbag fetish. While this storyline does build to a rather graphically violent climax, it ultimately feels a bit mundane, for writer/series creator Neil Cross does not use the week's criminal concern to either illuminate and enrich Luther (except for revealing him to be a David Bowie fan) or the other characters, nor does it inform the continuing story arcs in any way. It's the first time in the series' run where the self-contained plot of the week plays like a routine procedural episode.
Thankfully Cross continues to not be routine when it comes to the ongoing character matters, which take turns both expected and not. With the exposure of his career-threatening secret appearing all but inevitable, Luther finally seeks to make a decisively clean break from any sort of contact with the ever-eager-to-"help," ever-batshit-crazy Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson), which sets her off even more--and brings about an unexpectedly abrupt resolution (though not exactly closure) to one of the longer-looming issues. After the previous episode's events, Luther and wife Zoe (Indira Varma) begin the hour not exactly estranged, but the rediscovered closeness proves to create new complications that may leave them even further apart. These aren't exactly insignificant developments at all, but Cross and Miller play them (aside from one requisite freak-out apiece for Luther and Alice, that is) in an unusually understated fashion, which is a bit refreshing coming after the frantic previous installment not to mention a rather surprising choice overall. But such an approach paired with a less than thrilling Case of the Week leaves the episode feeling a bit minor and wanting. With only two more weeks to go, here's hoping next week's penultimate chapter finds the tension and energy level jumpstarted in preparation for the big finish.
Within the first ten minutes of the third episode of Luther, the audience is treated to a man thrusting his tongue at and then licking a woman's face, words scrawled on walls in fresh human blood, and one of the series regulars washing his bloody face after suffering a brutal beating. Such newly in-your-face boldness I initially completely chalked up to a change in director--at the helm this time is Sam Miller, taking over from the first two's Brian Kirk--but it soon becomes apparent that this episode serves as a pivot that signals a dramatically (in every sense) dark and intense turn for the back half of the series. For a start, stories don't come much darker or more intense than DCI John Luther's (Idris Elba) Case of the Week, that of a satanic kidnapper and murderer who keeps his victims in a freezer while he does all sorts of nasty business with their blood.
For all the surface, sensationalistic shocks that come with exploring such grisly territory (including an instance of blood drinking, no less--not for nothing did the usually lax BBC affix a content advisory), writer/series creator Neil Cross cannily packs his biggest punches in how this case impacts the much larger picture of no less than the entire series. In my post on episode 2, I predicted that in this episode "the week's case will be closed in one way or another, but ongoing saga of John Luther will more likely be untidier than ever," and while I was correct, I had no idea quite to the degree, nor just how Cross would organically, seamlessly intertwine the concerns of the week's procedural case with further enriching the characters, relationships, and larger story arcs--to say nothing of just how much Cross corrupts the already-shaky status quo. For all his investigative acumen, Luther finds that the only way to nab this latest psycho on the scene is to enlist the counsel of another, the ever-present, ever-unhinged Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson, creepy-crazy-captivating as ever)--who on her own has already been serving up unsolicited "help" in trying to bring Luther and estranged wife Zoe (Indira Varma) back together. But whatever immediate results this uneasy alliance may yield on both those fronts, the lasting overall fallout promises to be detrimental, if not outright devastating, to Luther. Indeed, by the hour's end, not only is Luther back in even lesser graces with his superiors, his relationship with supportive but straight-arrow partner DS Justin Ripley (Warren Brown, finally getting a bit more to do) has been severely tested, and Alice's sense of spiritual kinship with him is proven to be not so much twisted than it is true. The real suspense for the remaining three episodes lies not in the question of if Luther will suffer his ultimate downfall but if he will care enough to save himself.
The second episode of Luther finds writer/series creator Neil Cross settling into what I fully expect to be the series' standard formula groove for at least the next three installments: DCI John Luther (Idris Elba) applying his incomparable investigative and deductive skills to a Case of the Week while the more overarching concerns--Luther's relationship with his estranged wife Zoe (Indira Varma); the ongoing psychological chess game with the sociopath Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson); the ticking time bomb secret of the currently comatose perp Luther let take a life-threatening fall--further progress in the background. This isn't necessarily a bad thing--such is the nature of a crime procedural television series, after all--especially as practiced by Cross and director Brian Kirk here.
Said Case of the Week is an interesting one, revolving around a serial cop killer whose motivation is, naturally, not as clear as it may appear to be. Even if this thread isn't immune to cop show convention (yes, there is a "you're off the case!" moment), and Luther's heated confrontations with an imprisoned murderer with a connection to the culprit are far less tense and engrossing than his with Alice in the premiere episode (Sean Pertwee is a bit too ersatz-Hannibal Lecter-hammy to be as intimidating as obviously intended as the convict), the storyline culminates in truly memorable fashion. The palpable tension and suspense of Luther's face-off with the killer is almost secondary to Elba's harrowing performance, which turns the mere climax of the Case of the Week into a startling illumination of the character and his philosophy. It's a reflection of the care Cross has taken in constructing the series that all of the plot-driven concerns of this episode, from the cop killer thread to the ongoing threat of Alice, who this week creeps even closer to Zoe for anyone's comfort, ultimately serve as a study of the man at the center, who grows even more complicated and fascinating. As more formula-driven as this episode is than the last, it still manages to surprise, if not in plot progression then in the shifting character dynamics (the Luther/Alice relationship intriguingly evolves into more of the classically complex "frenemy" dichotomy as seen with comic book hero/supervillain archnemeses) and the raw immediacy of the performances. Based on the tease, the next episode looks to again follow the formula, but certainly by the end of the hour, the week's case will be closed in one way or another, but ongoing saga of John Luther will more likely be untidier than ever.
While Hollywood still struggles to give him a proper post-The Wire showcase (his most recent endeavor, The Losers, being an enjoyable romp but hardly the most strenuous of acting exercises), Idris Elba has returned to his native UK to tackle some more ambitious and challenging projects--a bit ironic, considering he first ventured to the States for the greater opportunities available to actors of color. By nearly all accounts from its recent Glasgow and Tribeca festival showings, the British indie in which he stars and also executive produced, Thomas Ikimi's Legacy, has given Elba a vehicle far more demanding--and rewarding--than any of his big screen projects to date.
In the meantime, while that film continues to travel the festival circuit en route to a general theatrical release down the line, another showcase for Elba the capital-A Actor (as opposed to simply "the Star" of recent years) is more widely available on the small screen--albeit currently only in Great Britain, on BBC One: Luther. On the surface, the series seems not unlike any modern crime procedural: police detective (the man of the title, Elba's DCI John Luther) whose brilliant investigative skill is in direct proportion to his personal drama and demons. Writer Neil Cross and director Brian Kirk briskly set up the character and scenario, literally cutting to the chase in a pre-title sequence whose consequences promise to reverberate long and hard for Luther for the duration of the six-episode series. In the more immediate time frame, though, these events send Luther into suspension, from which he emerges (conveniently, right after the title sequence) a bit worn and broken down but still sharp as a tack, as he displays in a heated interrogation room showdown with one Alice Morgan (Ruth Wilson, striking the perfectly fascinating, disturbing "off" note), whose family was slaughtered in a brutal murder.
This doesn't sound terribly unique, and from this juncture all signals point toward settling into a familar procedural (for want of a better term) procedure: tormented hero catches the bad guy and thus re-proves his worth and re-discovers his mojo--though only incrementally, for after all this is a series, and the first episode at that. But as they say, the devil (in all senses) is in the details, and this is where Luther carves out its unique identity and offers significant promise. While it remains to be seen if this is a premiere episode exception, what by initial appearance looks to be another Case of the Week plants intriguing seeds for a larger story arc and further enriches the established threads. The more cliche elements, such as Luther's turbulent relationship with his estranged wife (Indira Varma), register positively despite their overwhelming familiarity due to Cross's sharp, unfussed writing and--most crucially--the committed performances.
And there is no performance here more committed than that of the lead, who brings tremendous focus to a character that is, ironically enough, in an ongoing struggle to maintain his. The BBC's official synopsis has termed Luther a "psychological thriller," and while that does apply, more apt would simply be "psycho-thriller" as just as much as this is about the psychology of John Luther, it is also about his psychoses. Elba's finely shaded, painfully authentic performance drives this point home--and not necessarily in the broader scenes such as the opening or a rather rote angry outburst later in the episode, but in his haunted, haunting face, which Kirk is wise enough to often let speak in silent, eloquent closeup. However, Luther, despite his rumpled appearance, is no sad sack, and one feels the charge right along with him when testing his wits on the criminal hunt--but, of course, it's that very excitement when not held in check that got him into trouble in the first place, and, by episode's end, the presence of a especially formidable adversary could lead him into an even bigger mess before long.
This is just the first episode of a scheduled six, so it remains to be seen how the character of Luther develops and his journey unfolds, not to mention if Cross devolves into standard cop show conventions. The teaser for the next episode does raise some warning flags, for while the larger arc looks to be advanced further, there appears to be a Big Bad of the Week in the form of a shaven-headed Sean Pertwee. Who knows how that all turns out, one thing is certain at this point--I will be watching to see exactly how it does.