Dear Reader, I Watched Them All

In this post I'll be taking a brief break from my reviews of AFI Top 100 movies to discuss some other films I saw this year. Specifically, I finally got around to watching the various screen adaptations that exist of Charlotte Bronte's famous novel Jane Eyre. Many moons ago when I was still an undergrad, I took a course on Victorian literature and read Jane Eyre (alas, with the big reveal having been already spoiled for me by a too chatty classmate; I will be kind enough to tell you all that this post will indeed contain spoilers for the plot, so proceed at your own risk). After that I meant to watch some of the movie adaptations; I even recall seeing a trailer for one of them when it was new! But me being me, this kept getting pushed off to some later date when I would 'have free time' (cue laughter here).

Fast forward to the beginning of this year when I was trying to catch up on some podcasts and listened to Can I Just Say's episodes on Jane Eyre, both the novel and some of its adaptations. Of course, I couldn't simply listen to these episodes with no context though! While I didn't re-read Jane Eyre (too little time to read all the books I want to read as it is), I did make a point to finally watch the film adaptations -- the three discussed on the podcast before listening to it and then just to round everything out, I finally finished this little 'project' of mine but watching one more, which is where I'll start my reviews, as it's freshest in my mind.

Jane Eyre (1944)

This little 'project' of mine ended with the earliest of all these adaptations, which perhaps wasn't entirely fair to save for last, but that is what happened. This wasn't my favorite of all the adaptations; indeed, I found the pacing a bit slow at times. But it was certainly a solid addition to the list of Jane Eyre films and must have been so even more when it first came out to viewers who hadn't seen many previous screen adaptations of the novel, particularly as a "talkie."

The film opens with a young Jane Eyre being interviewed by Mr. Brocklehurst concerning her so-called bad behavior. Peggy Ann Gardner was the most spirited of all the young Janes I saw and was delightful as a result. Agnes Moorhead, best known for her role as Samantha's mother on Bewitched, was absolutely fantastic as Jane's Aunt Reed. She manage to convey in a few facial expressions just how awful this character was, which was necessary for this adaptation as we don't see any of her earlier abominable treatment of Jane. Young Jane's hope of a wonderful new life at school is quickly tamped out when she arrives at the dour Lowood School. But here she makes a friend in Helen, another school child who is played by a shockingly uncredited young Elizabeth Taylor!

Jane quickly ages into a young woman and the role is taken over by Joan Fontaine; I cannot recall having seen Fontaine in any other movie before, but I was immediately struck by how much she looked and sounded like her sister, the actor Olivia de Havilland, probably best known for her role as Melanie in Gone with the Wind. The role of adult Jane is incredibly difficult because she is quiet and deferential while having a very vivid interiority; the reader of Jane Eyre knows this, but the viewer isn't always as lucky. Fontaine certainly does show at times that something else is going on in the character's mind, but other times her face is just too placid to read anything more into it. This movie does have a gimmick in which lines of the book are shown and Fontaine reads them in a voice-over, but this felt like it took the viewer further out of the narrative as opposed to deeper into it, which I think was what the screenwriters were going for with this device. (Side note: A fun fact with this movie is that one of the screenwriters was none other than Aldous Huxley, author of Brave New World.)

Jane moves on from the Lowood School to become a governess at a private estate. Her charge is the young Adele, played by Margaret O'Brien; it is my understanding that O'Brien was a popular child actor in Hollywood at the time but if this movie is any evidence, I cannot understand why. Her French accent was atrocious and the rest of her performance didn't make up the difference. The lord of the estate is Mr. Rochester, played by Orson Welles, whose interpretation of Rochester seems to be more grumpy and stern than brooding and mysterious, but it works well enough. Sadly, I don't think Fontaine and Welles had particularly good chemistry, which is such an essential part to this story. I think that is partially to blame for some of the movie seeming to drag a bit.

The estate itself, Thornfield, is presented here as a perfect setting for the more Gothic elements of this tale; the black-and-white filming and the gloomy shadows are appropriate. However, the exterior shots are all so clearly sound stages, and that takes away a bit from the effect they have. Other characters come and go at Thornfield, but the only actor who stands out is Hillary Brooke, who perfectly captures the haughtiness of Blanche Ingram.

Being as this movie is on the shorter side (only about an hour and a half), it straight up cuts out everything regarding St. John and his sisters, which is just fine with me. All in all, this is a fine-enough adaptation of the book, but it's not the one I would recommend as best.

Jane Eyre (2011)

So this is the one I recall seeing a trailer for before it came out in theaters, and then it languished on the 'I-should-watch-that-one-of-these-days' list for eight more years before I finally did. In keeping with my procrastination tendencies, it's been long enough since I watched it that my review will be perforce shorter and to the point.

This movie started in the middle (really towards the end) with a distraught Jane wandering the moors in hysterics. It then goes backwards through Jane's life from childhood up until this moment, before carrying onwards to St. John and his sisters taking her in off the moors. This device of starting somewhere in the middle can often draw viewers into a movie, but I think it's an odd choice for one based on such a well-known story. Furthermore, I really did not like that Jane was being portrayed as so hysterically emotional as that seems counter to her character; it was probably to draw more of a contrast to how dully placid she was in nearly all the rest of the film. Indeed, on the whole, I did not like Mia Wasikowska's portrayal of Jane as it seem to lack any depth for the character; she is at either extreme of being unreadable or far too passionate for how Jane acts in the novel. Again, Jane is a difficult character to be viewed on screen because so much of her personality is kept hidden to outsiders, but this portrayal seemed so off from how I pictured Jane Eyre to be.

On the flip side, Michael Fassbender was a very compelling Edward Rochester. His interpretation of the character came off as creepy -- not in a horror sense, but in the vibe you get from certain men to stay clear. That is how I feel about the character in the book so I was glad to see it on screen as well! The chemistry between the two leads was missing here as well, which is again unfortunate.

The supporting cast, including an underused Dame Judi Dench as Mrs. Fairfax, do just fine in their roles. The scenery is well done, both exterior and interior. Costumes are equally lovely. Clocking in at just about two hours, the film cuts little of the major points from the book. That all being said, that je ne sais quoi was missing from this film; I wouldn't necessarily recommend it either.

Jane Eyre (1996)

This version was directed by Franco Zeffirelli and also lived on my 'should-get-around-to-watching' list for a very long time. Incidentally, after finally watching this one, I felt there were some cinematographic similarities with the only other Zeffirelli film I've seen, namely Romeo and Juliet (1968), despite the many year gap between the two movies.

Once again, we open with Jane Eyre at her Aunt Reed's house; the young Jane is played by Anna Paquin, who seems a bit overly emotional for the role, but I'll allow it because Jane at this point is more open about her feelings. As Jane grows in to a young woman, Paquin is replaced by Charlotte Gainsbourg. She isn't my favorite Jane Eyre actor and she occasionally slips into her French accent, but I still preferred her to Mia Wasikowska.

Rochester, meanwhile, is played by William Hurt, who gives the character a little more softness and humanity than he has in the book (perhaps a little more than he deserves?). In my opinion, Hurt and Gainsbourg had the best romantic chemistry of any of the Eyre-Rochester pairings. So that's a big bonus point for this particular adaptation. The supporting actors were by-and-large well cast, particularly Joan Plowright as Mrs. Fairfax and Elle Macpherson as Blanche Ingram.

With roughly two hours of film, this movie is comparable to the 2011 version, but it somehow manages to reduce the screen time devoted to the St. John subplot. That works for me! There's lovely outdoors scenery and the interiors are not bad either, although -- credit where credit is due -- I do think the 2011 version has the loveliest interiors and costumes. In the end, this is a decent enough adaptation that I would recommend if you've read the novel and are looking for a screen version (or if you're just looking for a screen version period).

Jane Eyre (2006)

It's perhaps not 100 percent fair to compare this to the others as this is a miniseries version; whereas the others condensed the book to no more than two hours worth of film time, this one devoted four hours to getting the novel from page to screen, thus allowing it to include more scenes from the book or to explore others more deeply. For instance, this was the only one of the adaptations that managed to put in the "gypsy" scene, even if it was altered from the book.

Notably, this was the only one of these four adaptations to be directed by a woman and to have a screenplay written by a woman. And, I hadn't realized when I watched it that this adaptation actually pre-dates the 2011 film; after seeing this one, I wonder why they even bothered with making that one.

As you might guess from that last statement, this was my favorite of all the adaptations. It started out a little rough with a rather strange "red room" scene, and I was prepared to dislike it. Then when I saw Ruth Wilson -- who I knew previously only for playing a homicidal sociopath on Luther -- was playing Jane Eyre, I almost chuckled to myself, convinced this was the absolute wrong choice for the role. But Wilson soon blew me away. She was the absolute best at presenting Jane's many emotions underneath a calm exterior; I swear she even blushed in one scene, which something I have never seen any other actor do in any other movie or TV show (period drama or otherwise).

Toby Stephens, who I had never seen in anything else previously, was an excellent Rochester. Like Hurt, he toned the character's darker side down a bit so that he's not quite as terrible, but he still keeps a slightly sinister edge. (Is sinister too strong a word for Mr. Rochester? Perhaps, but it's one that keeps popping into my head when I think of him.) The romantic chemistry between Rochester and Eyre is more muted here, but their rapport is so much better; they seem like true equals and you can finally get a sense of why the two are attracted to each other.

Christina Cole is a fine actor in many a period film, so it was fun to see her here as Blanche Ingram. The rest of the supporting cast did satisfactory jobs as well. Also, interior and exterior scenery is done well on the whole, although I still find that "red room" scene a bit over the top.

If you're willing to devote the time, this is the adaptation that I think is best worth watching. Wilson cannot be beat as Eyre, and the miniseries as a whole is a good interpretation of the novel.

--

Note: When I say "I watched them all" in my title to this post, that was more for the fun of having something to follow up "Dear Reader;" this comprehensive list shows that there are many, many, many other Jane Eyre adaptations that I haven't seen. However, I think five times around with this story (the book plus the four screen adaptations) is perhaps just as much Mr. Rochester as I can handle.

CSI: Pemberley

Please be aware of some spoilers with this review.

After being disappointed with the book Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James and finding it a bit tedious to get through at points, you'd think I wouldn't want to seek out the miniseries based on it, right? Wrong. Why would I do such a thing? There's a simple two-word answer: Matthew Goode. Over time and many viewings, I've come to respect this actor so much, whether he's the morally ambiguous Ozymandis (my views on his portrayal have changed since re-watching Watchmen a few times) or the sweet and charming Mr. Brooke Burgess of He Knew He Was Right. Heck, I even tried a bad romantic comedy for his sake (well, his sake and Amy Adams's sake). So I was going to check out the BBC version of Death Comes to Pemberley no matter which role he played in it, although I was glad to find that he played the dashing and devilish Wickham -- perfect casting in my opinion.

Death Comes to Pemberley the miniseries closely follows the book Death Comes to Pemberley in that all the elements of that story are presented here. However, those elements are often in a divergent order from the book, with a different character revealing certain points or with more spectacle given to a specific moment. All in all, each change from the book to the miniseries is clearly meant to heightened the suspense and drama of the storytelling -- something I wish James had done all along so that the book would have been more successful as the murder mystery it purports to be. In fact, viewing this miniseries just exemplified for me the importance of a good editor -- the intrigue and drama were there all along in Death Comes to Pemberley if only someone had the good sense to cut down on the redundancies and work on the pacing a bit more.

With the miniseries, repetition is not really an issue, even with the two different hearings/trials for Wickham. The mystery unfolds over time instead of coming in with a bang at the end; here we see the mystery woman in the woods almost immediately at the start of the story and we learn early on about Louisa's illegitimate child, for just two examples. Of course, we don't learn the significance of either of these events until much later on, with the latter giving rise to a subtle suspicion on Elizabeth's part that perhaps Darcy has not been faithful to her rather than being thought of as an issue connected to the murder right away.

Speaking of Elizabeth and Darcy, the miniseries does a much better job of portraying these characters than the book, keeping much more in line with Jane Austen's original characters. Yes, we do lose some insights into Darcy's inner thoughts, but Matthew Rhys's Darcy is the quiet, reserved Darcy of Pride and Prejudice and, while Elizabeth is perhaps not quite as spunky as the original, she's a huge improvement over the practically lifeless character of the Death Comes to Pemeberly novel. The casting of Anna Maxwell Martin as Elizabeth was genius as she is perfect as portraying a well-mannered woman who also willing and eager to speak her mind. She is also given a lot more to do than in the novel -- some critics have pointed out how the actor seems to still be playing her role from Bletchley Circle, gathering up clues and using them to solve smaller mysteries until she discovers the final reveal. I am perfectly fine with this change; indeed, I'm happy to see Elizabeth being active again instead of just a bystander. Her wit and humor is largely on the back burner, but you can get a sense that she has the capacity for it when not facing down a crisis, which is not at all the impression you get from P.D. James's Elizabeth.

The relationship between the Darcys is also far more interesting here. In the book, their love is a unshakable foundation, or so we are repeatedly told, but we hardly ever see them together. Here, there is rather a different story. There is a great deal of tension between the two, especially as they argue over various points, such as whether it is right for Georgiana to marry for affection or for position (more on this below). Darcy's insistence that his sister marry with an eye toward her family duties makes Elizabeth worry if he is doubting his own decision to marry for love instead. She also laments that her marriage to him has brought him to this horrid situation of being brother-in-law to a possible murderer and, as aforementioned, seems to question whether he has been carrying on an affair with Louisa. But all's well that ends well and, in a very un-Austen-like turn, there's even a steamy sex scene between the two. Necessary? Maybe not, but it sure beats the practically nil interactions between the couple that the reader of Death Comes to Pemberley gets.

Another bit of heightened drama in the miniseries is that the love triangle between Georgiana Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Henry Alveston is actually more of a complicated affair, rather than a two-page possibility of an issue that is quickly dismissed. You can see the pathos as Georgiana attempts to decide between honor and romance, between following the wishes of her beloved brother and staying true to her own heart. In a particularly heartbreaking scene, she sobs openly in front of stiff servants as she struggles with trying to do what is right. Also kudos to the acting chops of Mr. James Norton, who so thoroughly inhabited the despicable, slimy rapist and kidnapper of Happy Valley that I barely recognized him here as he played the sweet and amiable Alveston.

The miniseries version of Death Comes to Pemberley also plays up the possibility of Wickham's death much more so than in the book. With a capital crime, this should have been more of a looming shadow in the book, but it really wasn't. Here, however, the gallows are frequently close at hand, forever reminding the viewer of the deadly consequences that are so near if Wickham is not acquitted. The story of the young boy hanged when Darcy and Wickham were just children is also used to more dramatic effect here, with the two being scarred by this visual at a tender age and both remembering or referencing it at times throughout the trial.

Minor characters were played to great advantage here as well. Jenna Coleman was divine as Lydia -- offsetting her perfectly ridiculous and ostentatious hysterics with a few rare moments of actual depth and sincerity of emotion that allow viewers to pity her even as they dislike her. The equally ridiculous Mrs. Bennet was also a breath of fresh air in terms of comedic effect -- having her descend on Pemberley after the tragedy of Denny's death instead of the kind and gentle Jane was no doubt more burdensome for the characters but far more fun for the viewers. Although she's on the screen but briefly, Lady Catherine is also great for moments of social satire. Louisa and her family can perhaps be a tad melodramatic at times and Mrs. Younge is too much of a viper, but overall I believe the casting was well done and the characters were well played.

Another thing done well with the miniseries was that rather than introducing this myriad of characters and their various histories right away in a compact, arguably rushed prologue, the writers went instead with the flashback route. At different points throughout the TV series, we see the characters' past meetings and interactions in these flashbacks, which allows the rich back stories to gently unfurl and give the viewers time to settle in and digest each new piece of information.

I'm not sure that I'd call this "must-see" TV, but I would definitely, without a doubt, unequivocally recommend watching this miniseries over reading the book of the same name. You'll thank me later.

Detective Jackson Brodie Investigates in Case Histories

Recently, I've gotten into author Kate Atkinson's works and have been making my way through two of her book series. The first of these is her Jackson Brodie series, which contains the following four books to date:

- Case Histories;
- One Good Turn;
- When Will There Be Good News?; and
- Started Early, Took My Dog.

So far I've read the first three and have enjoyed the high-brow mystery novels that Atkinson presents. Somewhere along in this reading process, I heard that a TV miniseries had been created based on the books, but I wasn't much interested. That is, until I wandered over to Atkinson's website and saw that Jason Isaacs plays the lead role in the series. After loving his portrayal of Detective Michael Britten on Awake, I just knew Isaacs would be perfect as Brodie.


Isaacs as Brodie in Case Histories

The TV series is a product of BBC Scotland, is simply named Case Histories after the first book, and has two seasons to date (or "series" as they say in the U.K.). The first season covers the events of the first three books and consists of six episodes of roughly one hour in length each, with two episodes dedicated per book. The second season follows the fourth book and is made up of three episodes. Since I've only read the first three books so far, I've only watched the first season, but I'm pleased with what I've seen.

In the essence of time, Case Histories the TV show truncates the books a great deal. We have far less musing about random things and fewer direct insights into character's thought processes. Backstories are significantly shortened. The time between the cases goes from years to months, and basically everything takes place in Edinburgh rather than having Brodie moving about Europe frequently. And Brodie never leaves his private investigating career for greener pastures (before ultimately being sucked back into mysterious circumstance after mysterious circumstance). While purists may object to these liberties, they make sense to me given the medium change.

Other big changes in the transition from book to television come in the way of the characters. Some characters - like Deborah Arnold - are given bigger roles to play, while others - like Joanna Hunter - are given far less screen time. Meanwhile, some characters - like David Lastingham - don't make it into the show at all. Julia becomes a far more sympathetic character while Marcus is made less likable. Several characters end up with happier - or at least more optimistic - conclusions than they did in the books, particularly Martin Canning and Amelia Land.

As I surmised, Isaacs makes a wonderful Jackson Brodie. In an interview, Kate Atkinson admitted that her readers seemed more enamored with Jackson than she was, and while I enjoyed the books, I can't say it was because I was in love with Jackson. However, Isaacs gives Brodie a charm that isn't there in the books while tamping down his overprotectiveness a bit so that it comes off more endearing and less machismo. Also, without giving away any spoilers, TV's Brodie doesn't do the something in book two that is inexcusable and unforgivable to me, so that's a big plus.

Likewise, Amanda Abbington was amazing as Louise Munroe. Even though Munroe was easily one of my favorite characters in the novels, her rough exterior could come off abrasive without the benefit of her inner dialogue that we get in the text. But Abbington was able to keep Munroe snappy on the job and antagonistic toward Jackson while maintaining a je ne sais quoi that allows viewers to realize she's not entirely serious about her tough talk and there's a marshmallow soul beneath that all.

Other castings that I found just perfect are:
- Gwyneth Keyworth as Reggie - wonderfully fitting the part of a teenaged girl who looks much longer, while also bringing forth so much of Reggie's pathos, even with the reduced screen time to explore Reggie's past and present woes; and
- Fenella Woolgar as Amelia - such lovely casting, as I enjoyed Woolgar's bit role in BBC's production of He Knew He Was Right and I'm currently being very impressed with Woolgar's reading of the audiobook version of Atkinson's Life After Life.

The remaining characters are mostly well cast, although I can't help but be befuddled by the choice for Theo Wyre. He's a fine enough actor for getting the characterization of a kind but obsessively grieving father across, but the book makes such a fuss of repeatedly noting how obese he is - to the point of his doctor and his daughter worrying over his health, of his having his groceries delivered to his home because he doesn't want others to judge his food choices; of his being winded after walking up a flight of stairs; of his constantly being concerned about others' perception of him because of his weight. Philip Davis as Theo barely has a "spare tire" physique, yet alone a largeness that's going to turn heads in astonishment. I don't know why that small detail bugged me so much, but it did. On the other hand, I was pleasantly surprised to see that casting had managed to add in a few minority characters so that the show would be a little diverse. (It could still use more, but I guess there's only so much you can do with the source material... )

As I mentioned earlier, the events of the novels are greatly truncated and fused, resulting in a faster pacing, fewer tangents, and more of Brodie tying up loose ends all on his own genius (rather than the sometimes happenstance way that the readers find out the conclusion of a mystery in the books). The show seems sometimes to take a more light-hearted approach to the grimness of Brodie's world, with elements like the more flirty banter between Jackson and Louise and the oddly upbeat musical interludes that often scatter throughout scenes (when of course we're not being "treated" to Brodie's favorite country Western songs). Again, this is one of the issues that arises with converting a book to the screen - the book found its humor in little funny random thoughts in characters' minds or in Atkinson's literary references, neither of which really can find their way into a television script.

All in all, this TV series is a solid attempt at translating the text into film. While there's nothing particularly spectacular about it, I also don't think there's much to offend fans of those books in the changes that were made. And for those who don't have the time or inclination to tackle the book series, this is a perfectly adequate substitution for some entertainment with considerably less gore than many other crime dramas and with interesting characters and plotlines. On that note, despite knowing how the mysteries resolved in the book, there was still a bit of suspense in how they would be solved or end in the TV series, given the revisions. Although this show isn't an instant favorite of mine by any stretch, it's appealing enough that I'll probably try to track down Season 2 once I finish reading the fourth book.

A Look at the Darkest Side of Humanity with BBC's The Fall

The Fall is a powerful, intense, challenging, and disturbing show that is most definitely worth the watch. In a world where there seems to be a police procedural and/or crime drama on every night on every station, it may seem redundant to have yet another show about a serial killer and the police search to capture him. And while boiled down this is exactly what The Fall is about, the show is far more artistic and serious than the many more sensationalist cookie cutter criminal-based programs out there already.

To step back a moment, The Fall is a BBC-produced drama taking place in recent years in Belfast, Northern Ireland. When the daughter of a prominent (and wealthy) businessman is brutally murdered, the local police launch a ramped-up investigation to catch her killer. To head up this task force, they bring in Stella Gibson, a detective inspector from London with a stellar (couldn't resist the pun!) track record for understanding and thus bringing in criminals. Gibson almost immediately sees a link between this murder and those of other women in Belfast who share similar characteristics (although, alas, the rest don't have the moneyed fame so their deaths weren't originally given the same high status treatment). Behavioral profiling of the murderer, painstakingly intensive forensic studies, and round-the-clock monitoring of tip lines and potential suspects' movements consume the task force's time as they pursue the serial killings.

Meanwhile, the viewers are given the position of knowing far more than the police as we soon enter into the world of the killer himself. A grief counselor with a wife and two young children, Paul Spector is mundane enough for most people to not notice him or suspect him of being guilty of anything more egregious than perhaps a speeding ticket. But underneath this calm demeanor lies a troubled psyche that finds fulfillment in others' misery and feels powerful only by destroying lives. Besides his unrepentant need to stalk and murder pretty women, Spector has a host of various other problems to deal with in his life, ranging from fairly typical parenting issues to a teenaged babysitter who is infatuated with him to a client case in which an extremely violent man is abusing his wife.

This last issue brings up an important part about what makes The Fall such a fascinating show. The cat-and-mouse between the police and the killer makes for plot-driven suspense and, as always for me, well-developed characters finish the job of sucking the viewer into the drama. But The Fall goes a step further by looking into a major cultural issue of times - and one that is sadly, often rather divisive - that of gender roles and gender equality/inequality. The issue of violence against women in particular is a large part of The Fall, and the show explores it in a number of ways, while also examining women's implicit and explicit roles in combating both crime and cultural stereotypes about their gender.

The Fall starts with presenting a female main character that is a wonderful example of a feminist hero. Stella Gibson is certainly not perfect and she's not necessarily "kick ass" in a superhero sort of way (although you wouldn't want to get on her wrong side either), but she's tough, smart, and confident. Her personality at first appears a bit cold because she isn't passionate in terms of raising up a fuss or otherwise getting bowled over by her emotions. But it's soon obvious that Gibson does indeed feel strongly at appropriate moments and while she is guided mainly by her intellect and sense of morality, her emotions also play a role in why she does what she does. She feels deep empathy for the victims and their families and is remorseful when she fears she's made a mistake that comprises a woman's safety.

Just like she is not devoid of emotion, she is also not a nun despite not being in a traditional relationship. Gibson has no problem clearly and plainly putting out her intentions when she finds someone of sexual interest - and when she does not. No part of Gibson's personality is tied up in any particular man or even in proving herself in a workplace historically populated by men. The show thankfully does not fall into the trap of turning Gibson into a "bitch" because she is a woman in a supervisory capacity or of making strong assertions about how Gibson has chosen being a career woman rather than a wife or mother, as thought it always needs to be an either/or choice. Clearly, the creators/writers here were not interested in presenting a stereotypical "women's intuition" type of female police detective who will inevitably end up in a long-term romantic relationship with her male partner. Gibson is simply living her life - sometimes making mistakes, sometimes shining (again, can't resist the puns based on her first name!) with insights not picked up by anyone else.

While The Fall certainly isn't alone in presenting a female lead - or even a strong female lead at that, the show doesn't just stop there. Gibson isn't a lone voice in the wilderness; the Belfast police and their attendant associates have a fairly equal amount of male and female employees. Even though she has a previous relationship with Assistant Chief Constable Jim Burns, on reaching Belfast, Gibson quickly aligns herself with two other women in particular - Dani Ferrington, a beat cop who becomes the right-hand woman to Gibson, and Professor Reed Smith, a pathologist who reports various insights to Gibson. In the world outside of the police force, we also get to know an array of female characters of various importance (and ensuing screen time) from Spector's wife to his victims to victims' family members and so on. The Fall presents women of all kinds: from the fiercely tough and professional detective constable Gail McNally to the busy and rather clueless (and thus, in a way, very sympathetic) Sally-Ann Spector to the clearly emotionally needy/disturbed young babysitter for the Spectors. With the exception of the babysitter Katie, who is a little one-note in terms of her motivations, all of the women - and indeed, all of the characters - are believable, well-rounded characters who have their individuals highs and lows.

But The Fall does more than simply present strong and believable female characters (not to say that isn't an accomplishment enough in a world where plenty of other shows and films struggle to have even a fair number of women in prominent roles). It also delves deep into a variety of issues surrounding women and how our culture treats women. It touches on how women are objectified, thus dehumanizing them to predators, specifically stating this through Gibson's words, but also showing it in other ways (i.e., using the visual medium of TV well to make the point). At one point when Spector tapes the torture of a victim, he ends his homemade video by asking why it's being watched. It's an uncomfortable moment of pointing out the viewer's own voyeurism and implicit role in this cultural problem of allowing women's rapes and murders to become lazy plot points to propel forward male heroes.

Nevertheless, the show is not without its detractors who criticize it for being misogynistic because of the female murder victims and for seeing from the killer's point of view. While I see their point about how displaying the corpses of dead women is troubling (it's something I felt with other crime shows), I don't find that to be the case here. Even though we see from the killer's eyes frequently, at no point are his actions condoned or held up as something to model/mimic. Meanwhile, there is so much empathy put out for the victims, the families, and even the community at large, that I don't feel like the dead women are simply props held up for their shocking entertainment value.

(Speaking of sensationalist shock value entertainment, I could not help thinking about the upcoming Fifty Shades of Grey movie, which stars Jamie Dornan as the BDSM-loving protagonist Christian Grey. I'm not sure how anyone could watch Jamie Dornan as Paul Spector subjecting a teenaged girl to bondage and other "grooming" acts, stalking women in his neighborhood, holding a woman hostage, violently murdering women, etc. and still come away thinking that a book series/movie about a dominant wealthy businessman introducing a young, naïve college student to sadomasochism is romantic.)

The Fall also has gained some critics because of its pacing; the show is certainly slow moving and lingers where other shows rush full speed ahead. Unlike the myriad of procedural shows on the air that fill up 20-plus episodes a year with largely one-off mysteries with sometimes poorly explained motivations, The Fall has chosen to focus the first two seasons (a total of 11 episodes) to this one case. Viewers come to intimately know all the characters and see the continuing effects of the crime on the police members tracking the killer, the killer's family, the surviving victims, and the victims' families. While there are still some motivations that could be more fully explored (e.g., the babysitter), it's a good change of pace to be reminded of the humanity (and lack of it in the killer's case) behind crimes rather than just the next thrilling plot move. For me (and many other viewers), the slower pace was not an impairment to appreciating in the show; in fact, it in many ways made it a more suspenseful watch. As a viewer, you care much more about the fate of a character once you've become invested in that person's life.

The breadcrumbs thrown out about whether nature or nurture created the psychopathic killer is another interesting component to the show. As the story develops and we learn more about Spector's troubled past, there are plenty of opportunities to reflect on how and why this man became a narcissistic sociopath turned violent offender, even if the script doesn't always explicitly state his motivations. And while there are certainly many references to Spector and his deeds as monstrous, the show through Gibson often reminds viewers how life exists on a continuum and everyone has elements of good and bad in them. In one scene I found particularly poignant in this regard, Gibson takes Burns to task for trying to weasel his way into her bed after she repeatedly says no. While she does make certain to maintain a distinction between him and the killer, she still manages to remind Burns (and the audience) that the treatment of women as mere sex objects is an easy trap to fall into that quickly becomes a slippery slope.

Like any TV show or other artistic expression, The Fall is of course not perfect. There is a secondary plot about police corruption that almost entirely fades in the background of the serial killing storyline. At times, there are scenes that feel unnecessary or not fully explained. On occasion, the police seem woefully behind the serial killer despite the tremendous amount of money and effort being spent on this case, including some scenes that just seemed ridiculous in how slow the police were responding, which hurt some of the credibility of the show. But overall, I found the first two seasons of the show to be fully engaging and thought-provoking in terms of plot and themes. They were also all extremely well acted, with an array of interesting, complex characters being presented and explored. The end of the season two finale was a bit bizarre in my opinion (and I am not alone), but I'm hoping that the third season slated for release in fall 2015 will help to smooth over those ragged edges and provide a satisfying conclusion to this thoroughly captivating show.