Guilt, episode 4, review - at long last, a drama that stays good to the last episode
How often have you enjoyed the first episode of a drama, only for it to go off the boil? Ooh, you think, this is good. I’ll be back next week. Then it turns out that the writer has put all their best ideas into the first hour, and by the finale the plot has gone completely mad and you find yourself hating everyone in it. Let’s call it Bodyguard Syndrome. The Capture, the return of Killing Eve, the last series of Line of Duty – all promised great things but wound up on a duff note. Don’t get me started on the end of The Affair on Sky Atlantic.
So thank the Lord for Guilt (BBC Two)which bucked the trend by being terrific from start to finish. Launched without much fanfare, having already been shown on BBC Scotland, this four-part thriller was a stealth hit. It delivered where so many others have failed: the acting was superb, the writing whip smart. The twists kept coming. It was deliciously, darkly funny, the Coen brothers by way of Leith. And the soundtrack (from Marianne Faithfull to The Fall) was great.
Mark Bonnar and Jamie Sives – real-life friends since their schooldays – starred as brothers Max and Jake. Max was the ruthless lawyer with the expensive kitchen, flash car and unhappy wife. Jamie was the lovable dreamer, living above a chippy and running a record shop with so few customers that he had time to hand-write his own sleeve notes for the vinyl.
The plot was one of those that hinged on a random event that sets the protagonists on a path towards disaster, with panic rising by the minute. Driving back from a wedding late at night, the brothers accidentally knocked down and killed an elderly man. Uninsured and more than a little stoned, Jake was persuaded by Max to cover up the crime. They carried the old boy – Walter – back to his house and made it appear that he died of natural causes, aided by a hospital letter in the sitting room that revealed he had terminal cancer. (Max tried to convince his brother that it was really a kindness to hasten his demise: “If he was here now he’d probably thank us.” Jake: “I think he’d at least touch on the fact that we killed him.”)
Of course, things didn’t go to plan. Jake had to attend Walter’s wake, where an American woman introduced herself as the dead man’s niece – and before long, Jake had fallen for her. A curtain-twitching neighbour, Sheila, witnessed the accident, and began blackmailing Max. It transpired that Max was also in hock to an organised crime gang. Writer Neil Forsyth achieved that trickiest of things: producing a story that was entertainingly outlandish yet stayed within the bounds of reality, so you never found yourself yelling: “But that would never happen!” at the screen.
As the hapless but good-hearted Jake, Sives easily won our sympathy. That we also rooted for Max despite him having no redeeming features was testament to Bonnar’s skill. Ellie Haddington and her wonderful face had a gift of a role in the blackhearted Sheila, the one character who felt no guilt at all.
And – joy of joys – up popped Bill Paterson as mob boss Roy. Millennials may know him as Fleabag’s dad but for the ancient among us he will always be Auf Wiedersehen, Pet’s Ally Fraser, who you could just imagine delivering Roy’s lines: “For many years, myself and the people that work for me have committed significant amounts of extreme violence. Of course, that’s all in the past. I’m a businessman now. A businessman who in the past has committed significant amounts of extreme violence.”
Could this all come together in the final episode? Yes, but not necessarily in the way you expected. The feelgood ending would have had Max and Jake succeeding against the odds, getting one over on the gangland criminals and the evil old biddy. But Forsyth pulled the rug from under us, and Max, one last time. The brothers had a heart-to-heart – Max revealing that he did, after all, have a heart in an emotional exchange that covered all the hurt and rivalry and love between the brothers – and then Jake turned him over.
The final scene kept the camera trained on Max’s face as he was driven away in the back of a police car and slowly broke into a smile. What did that smile mean? Relief that the guilt had lifted? Pride in his brother? No doubt people will have their own theories. I hope it wasn’t setting us up for a second series. It’s perfect as it is; it would be a crime if Guilt became the next drama to turn bad.
