Please don’t take that comment as a blanket statement covering the entire history of the show. I love the first few series; even the specials with Sheridan Smith aren’t too bad. But this most recent series is abysmal. a real load of shit. It’s like the makers of the show – its writers, its directors – have forgotten how to “do it”.
This week there was some guff about a magic lamp which came to nothing, a part where Jonathan Creek’s unconvincing wife and her new cleaner had to dispose of the body of a male prostitute (and not a single person called the police! Not even Jonathan) and a non-mystery about what on earth badly superimposed twins played by Joan Whitfield might be up to: are they murderers? Crooks? No, they were standup comedians, or something. All so the writers could use a shit joke about Laurel and Hardy.
There was also a kidnap plot where a politician’s wife was extravagantly kidnapped and held in bondage gear in a bunker in the middle of the common. To make her whereabouts known she took off her tights, put her solid gold diamond encrusted watch in a balloon, blew it up with her breath (which was apparently 80% helium), ties that to the tights, knotted the waist to send a message about some recycling plant and then put the balloon out of the window and into the wind where it landed in a tree in the grounds of the very house where Mrs Creek and her psycho maid dumped the escort’s body.
That watch fell miraculously into the maid’s hood, was carried home with her, tangled in her hair, and ended up deposited neatly beneath her pillow. Without doubt the most convoluted and unbelievable way to get Jonathan on the case. And even when he did get on the case, almost half way through the episode, he wasn’t that bothered with it.
Yet again this series a train of coincidences land Jonathan in the midst of a barely-credible plot made of an entirely implausible mystery which has no outcome, no point and no tension. I cannot express how disappointed I am that the good show I used to enjoy (and still enjoy when I watch the earlier episodes on Netflix) is now a load of nonsense.
This series suffers from the same issue as JK Rowling’s book The Casual Vacancy; namely, stereotypical representations of twee little country villages inhabited by quirky country bumpkins who may or may not be predatory killers and/or perverts just isn’t interesting! When Jonathan Creek was drawn into a drama featuring a locked room with a body in it, or some other weird case, that was interesting if formulaic. In fact it was the formula that made the show so unique. You knew just what you were getting and it worked well enough to keep millions watching.
Now, however, you get 15 minutes of Jonathan on screen if you’re lucky, most of which is his sitting behind a desk in a flashy TV office doing a job I don’t remember him ever getting. You then get a load of Sarah Alexander’s big eyes and firecracker temper, some bumbling locals which apparently provide comic relief and enough uncomfortable racial or sexual humour to turn you off altogether. And if it’s not some hilarious gag about poor people, fat people, black people or those silly women they have nowadays it’s a borderline pornographic fantasy scene, like tonight’s shiny-mini-dress blonde with a ballgag and dog collar being dragged about a dungeon by knifepoint for no reason whatsoever.
I’m not even wasting any more of my time criticizing it. Jonathan Creek should move back to his windmill, get Maddie on the phone and leave this tawdry bollocks behind him for good.