Late last year I watched the final season of The Fall.
(Image source: BBC)
Tangent: Fifty Shades Darker, the second of the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy, opened this weekend, starring Jamie Dornan, who catapulted to stardom with his role as Paul Spector in The Fall. Dornan shows us in the first series of The Fall that not only can he deftly handle disturbing material, but that he’s capable of genuine charisma and chemistry even when portraying a serial killer. TL;DR: Jamie Dornan is sex on two legs in The Fall. He… is … not in Fifty Shades. (I haven’t seen Darker, and the only reason I saw Fifty Shades was out of love for a friend. She knows who she is.)
I didn’t know what to make of the third series of The Fall. The first series was excellent and the second was very good, in spite of some missteps. I thought, like Broadchurch, that the third series would be about Spector’s trial. And there are some moments in a few of the episodes that I saw a glimpse of what that would have looked like: a high-powered defense attorney setting his sights on the extremely inappropriate relationship Spector had with his nemesis, Stella Gibson. The Belfast PD uncovering evidence of Spector’s devastating time as a student at a school rampant with abuse, as well as discovering evidence of some of his earliest victims. (Gibson also had inappropriate relationships with her superior, a subordinate, a fellow officer on the force and very nearly the medical examiner because apparently Gibon’s Tinder only worked in her very own office building.) We had Spector’s almost-protege violating her parole to try and see him and also start a cycle of her own violence, a first step to an eventual copycat of his crimes.
But instead, for the first two episodes, we got amnesia. Spector in the hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound, with amnesia. I mean, I was thankful for Delicious Topless Dornan, but I was momentarily transported to a cross between General Hospital and ER. There were whole chunks of dialogue that were merely regurgitation of medical jargon. There was the transport of one of his victims to the very same hospital, and they very briefly crossed paths, which is gobsmacking to me, but maybe the Belfast PD had a groupon for emergency care, I don’t know.
There were several intriguing storylines that could have been picked up but were merely teased and then dropped. Spector’s protective, compassionate nurse fit the physical profile of his victims, but … nothing happened. Spector’s wife Sally pulled a Susan Smith and tried to drown herself and their children in the car. She was dramatically rescued and ended up in the same hospital (does Belfast not have more than one hospital? I hear it’s a pretty big city) and then is never mentioned again.
In a frightening confrontation, Spector, provoked by Gibson, brutally attacks her, underscoring his hatred for women, specifically powerful women. He ends up in a mental institution (#amnesia), where he proceeds to manipulate another resident and eventually kills himself. It’s a wholly unsatisfying ending to a show that was originally billed (and for the first two seasons, lived up to) a cat and mouse game. Instead, I just felt, as a viewer, that I was batted around by the cat.