Many elements of Irvine Welsh’s Crime are extremely old school. Its fashionably tailored lead, Ray Lennox, is a grizzled detective with substance abuse issues (played with brooding intensity by Dougray Scott). Mysterious characters from his past may be the key to solving the case. We meet corrupt, powerful figures, who have ties to a criminal underbelly, and an understanding therapist who helps him to cope with the grotesque crimes in the shadowy streets of urban sprawl.
The second series, which is also based on Welsh’s novel of the same name, opens with Lennox back on the beat after a breakdown that was a result of last season’s events and his pursuit of “Mr Confectioner”. He is now struggling to stay sober – which is made increasingly difficult given that a new killer is castrating victims before carving sinister messages on their torsos.
This is also connected to an attack on Lennox’s former partner and mentor – who has since retired from the force and is going through gender transition. Their journey with gender non-conformity links to Lennox’s own nephew Fraser, who arrives at a family dinner in a slip dress much to the horror of most of those gathered.
At times, the most anxiety-inducing element of the show is wondering just how it will tackle the gender politics. Particularly given the clunky dialogue of female characters like Fraser’s prickly mother, who says: “I’m a feminist and young idiots acting out are agents of the patriarchy attacking women’s hard-won rights.” Fortunately, Welsh at least attempts nuance, with the series’ hero Lennox offering in return: “Maybe we should try and be a bit more tolerant of each other.”
There are a number of impressively twisted moments, with much of the police force being unabashedly horny and approximately 65% of the population of this fictional Edinburgh seeming to be some form of evil incarnate, but somehow the show still manages to feel a little inert. Pursuit of the killer and the many revenge plots move slowly, the sporadic narration seems to be happening in slow motion and the directorial choices show a strange lack of urgency.
Sure, there’s a sadistic killer on the loose, but we’re nonetheless taken on tangents into job interviews, politics, revenge porn and podcasting – all of which keep slowing things down. Thematically, the series is looking at whether or not revenge is a dish best served cold, but given how long it takes anyone to accomplish their goals, most of the revenge is frozen solid.
So much of the dialogue feels superfluous and didactic. Welsh seems determined to express how rampant corruption and misogyny is within Scotland’s institutions – even if that means going over the top. We watch diabolical politicians hire sex workers they openly hate, then leave them with the request that they spend their fees on improving society – by buying hard drugs to overdose on.
It’s a series that would benefit from abandoning the more po-faced scenes of political humour and lean into its other element – the sort of dark humour that made British crime thriller Luther so much fun. When the final twists are revealed, and dastardly plans are unveiled, they are bizarre, bold and high camp, and the final episode contains a tone and pace that should have been there all along. It’s in those moments where Scott shines brightest, landing solid punchlines in the lighter moments – as well as providing emotional weight as he reacts in horror to each new corpse and each betrayal by a trusted confidant.
But even as its conflicts reach their apex and Lennox faces off against the killer, it seems as if Welsh can’t quite resist having two characters engage in what could only be described as a “social justice–off” where they exchange theories that feel cribbed from the journals of first-year politics students. It could make for a extremely fun drinking game, taking a shot every time someone says “1%”, “democracy” or “the state” – albeit watching more than one episode while playing it would probably result in a visit to A&E.
But most unforgivable are the final two words of dialogue in the series, where Welsh falls back on one of Trainspotting’s most famous catchphrases – suggesting he may have truly run out of ideas.
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Even if it’s unoriginal, it’s not unenjoyable. Scott can do a brilliant but troubled detective just as well as Idris Elba (Luther), Matthew McConaughey (True Detective), Dominic West (The Wire) or Krister Henriksson (Wallander). He’s a fascinating character around whom to build a twisted world – even if some of the heavy-handed dialogue he’s burdened with is Welsh’s real crime.
