Beck (1999+ )

Beck (1999+ )

TVDB meta-data is runtime 90 minutes each in 42 episodes, rated 7.4 by 4232 cinematizens. 

Genre: Police procedural. 

Verdict: Low key.

Peter Haber as Martin Beck

Good cop, bad cop, and many others.  Martin Beck is slow and careful while his off-sider is mercurial and trigger happy.  Sounds clichéd because it is, but it works in small doses in this long-running series from Sweden. How many Swedes are left after the body count in each episode? The first I watched had six deaths, and a lot of guns.  More violent and gruesome than I like, but low key in that the characters to do not yell at each other, as is so common in Yankee krimis, mistaking noise and guns for drama.  

There is usually a lot of out and about in Stockholm for eye candy, and a lot of use of drones.  My two brief visits to Stockholm consisted mainly of hotel rooms, conference tables, meetings, and reports, leaving me with little idea of its geography of the many islands and bridges.  

The plots involve biker gangs, Russian mafia, immigrant vendettas, corporate corruption, and the usual vices of screenwriters: drugs, money, and prostitution.  That dearth of narrative originality is offset by the production that makes much use of expensive location shooting (from public parks, pleasure boats, old churches, bars clubs, glitzy corporations, and more) and nearly everyone in Sweden appears on camera as an extra.  However, the repertoire company of leading actors from Sveriges TV is so small I recognised a good many of them from other roles.  Still, the acting is superb, especially from the inner circle of coppers. A flicker in eye, a purse of the lip, a twitch of the shoulder tells much in these intense productions. No Yankee yelling is needed, nor any of the sanctimonious speeches common in Brit TV. Instead Beck sighs, and moves on.   

Beck and Mikael Persbrandt as Gunvald Larsson

There is some light relief from Beck’s intrusive, genial, and persistent neighbour, Grannen who gives Beck the benefit of his advice on alcohol, women, sports, dining, travel, and more when they meet in the elevator, hallway, lobby, or adjacent balconies of the apartment building. As part of a mandatory staff development exercise, Beck was once required to write down the names of three people who mean a lot to him. The first two were easy: his daughter, and grandson, but it took him all day to realise the third was Grannen – the look on Beck’s face when he wrote that down is a treasured memory. Grannen is a Beck-opposite: extravagant, thoughtless, carefree, flamboyant, intrusive, daring….    

Ingvar Hirdwall as Grannen

Beck is played so low key at times he seems to be catatonic, whereas the hyperactive Gunvald is always ready, willing, and able to kick in a door, even if it leads to the toilet in police HQ. The man knows how to make an entrance. Beck, on the other hand, seems to suffer from low blood pressure and move ever so slowly. Indeed he has brandished a weapon only once in the ten episodes I have seen to date.  He didn’t shoot…because Gunvald did it first — no surprise there.  

Beck’s talents lie in managing the team of detectives and in interrogation where he is a hard man to fool. Don’t play poker with this man. He reads the tells very quickly. (If you don’t know what a ‘tell’ is, then don’t play poker with anyone.) 

The stories are interesting but the resolution is often magic, making it more trip than arrival.  However, they are strong on the motivations of characters and what a mystery that makes us to each other.  

Some of the earlier episodes come from one of the ten-novel sequence of Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö (1965-1975) whence Beck originated (though many other characters from the novels are omitted, notably Lennart Kollberg).  But many of the episodes are not derived from that source, just as well, because I found the last five or six Sjöwall-Wahlöö novels suffocatingly preachy with ideology supplanting humanity as the soapbox came out and human interest waned.  But speaking of soap, I have to say that the episodes after Gunvald was written out have tended toward soap operas with the backstories taking over in continuing and endless, pointless melodramas: Will Emma leave Oscar? Will quiet Jenny get a new hair style? Will work-alcoholic Ayda take a day off? Will loquacious Claes ever shut up?  Stay tuned for these and other equally trivial problems.    

Equally, in the latter episodes the boy toys get bigger and more prominent. Every five minutes Beck calls out the SWAT team to knock down doors, blow up rooms, and swarm over a place, usually too late to find anything.  But the SWAT members put on a choreographed show.  

Other films have been made from the novels, including an earlier Sveriges production Beck (1993) in nine episodes with a different cast, and also the feature films The Laughing Policeman (1973), The Man on the Roof (1976), The Man Who Went up in Smoke (1980), and Roseanna (1967). This last film was based was the first novel of the series and is a personal favourite out of the ten books. The film version of The Laughing Policeman is set in San Francisco with Walter Matthau as the Beck substitute and loses everything in the transition, while The Man Who Went up in Smoke is an English production with a woefully miscast Derek Jacobi as Beck.  

Aloys (2016)

Aloys (2016)

IMDb meta-data is runtime of 1hour and 31 minutes, rated 6.4 by 1,853 cinematizens.

Genre: PI.

Verdict: Enticing.

Set in contemporary Switzerland with nary a cowbell in sight, the depressed, dreary, downcast, and dull Aloys goes about his business of spying on people.  Jealous wives hire him to videotape their husbands’ suspicious activities.  Worried parents put him onto adolescents who may be using drugs. Insurance companies wanted evidence of deceits about disabilities. Deans want dirt to lighten the payroll. (Well, they do.) The work sounds more interesting than it is.    

Aloys is robotic, though Robby had more personality than does he. His only friend, his father, just died, and he is now even more lonely, but, no, he does not vicariously live on his subjects. Indeed, he is strictly professional in his all his dealings. He is all but silent as he mopes around the tower residences where many of his subjects live, and where he himself lives when he is not riding buses through the Alpine mists.

He does catalogue and review his vast collection of surveillance tapes, and that seems to be his only pastime when not out filming more. He doesn’t enjoy it or do it for pleasure, but he does it obsessively, because there is nothing else to do. This is not a man looking for human contact, quite the reverse. In an elevator car at his residential tower Aloys pretends not to  be there, or shrinks in on himself, when someone else enters.  

This ordered, monotone world is interrupted with a suicide attempt by one of his neighbours, and then begins a game of telephone tag with a woman who is neither client nor subject.  

It doesn’t sound like much but it works.   

The actors are so ordinary, the set is so drab, the weather is so miserable that almost anything would be a relief.  Yet in a way it is uplifting and positive by the end.  I came across it by chance on SBS On-Demand when I was looking for, but not finding, Real Humans Season 2.  Films from Switzerland are scarce and I had just read a solid krimi set there so I was primed, and I liked the enigmatic summary, so I took a look. 

I found the four commercial breaks annoying, and they put me off further viewing on SBS On-Demand for a while. 

Rafael Bernal, The Mongolian Conspiracy (1969).

GoodReads meta-data is 192 pages rated 4.03 by 2,182 litizens.

Genre: krimi.

Verdict: Nada.  

Forget that title, down Mexico way our protagonist is an equal opportunity murderer without discrimination as to race, nation, gender, creed, orientation, height, age, colour, creed, or interest.  It is very noir because every character says f**k in every sentence.  Mongolia is as irrelevant as just about everything else in these pages. 

Protagonist is told to be discreet and that his quarry is not Chinese. He then goes to Chinatown and asks the Chinese he finds there direct questions about Chinese. This is his idea of discretion. He did not graduate at the top of the class in Thug School. It gets worse, far worse. I flipped the pages — seemed like more than 192 — in the hope of a taste of Mexico City, but there is very little after some street names. 

Rafael Bernal

A long and didactic introduction by an enthusiast put me off lunch. Those who claim to know say this is the author’s masterpiece.  Amen to that. 

Special Topics in Calamity Physics (2006) by Marisha Pessl

Special Topics in Calamity Physics (2006) by Marisha Pessl

Good Reads meta-data is 514 pages rated 3.70 by 5,310 litizens.

Genre: Chick Lit.

Verdict: Fizzle.  

Cutting from the chase, verbal pyrotechnics do not a story make. While every one of the 514 pages of this book crackle with wit and energy it reminded me of the wheels of car stuck in snow, spinning, spinning, spinning without movement; all the while digging itself in deeper. It must have been exhausting to write; it certainly is exhausting to read.  By the Kindle meter I made it to 40% before resigning in, well, resignation. Ergo to qualify my second sentence above, the 205 pages I read crackle (and then fizzle).  

If I had to find another metaphor for reading as far as that, I would say it is like reading only the footnotes to a book on a subject I neither knew nor cared anything about. And on they go for more than 500 pages in their ranks. Neither rhyme nor reason do they make to the reader but each one is perfectly formed.  

That inspires me to a third metaphor.  The teacher in a college creative writing class takes all thirty student essays and staples them together into a book. The parts, let us assume, are excellent, but the total goes nowhere. 

It is impressive that someone could pour this much intelligence into blank pages and yet depressing that it leaves so little impression.  Better for many of the pages to have remained blank. I found skipping pages made no difference to my interest or knowledge of the narration.  That said, it is the sort of book that literary award panels seem to like:  it is contemptuous of readers, flashy without substance, striving relentlessly to be different, and ….   You get the idea by now or you won’t get it at all, in which case go directly to GoodReads and do not pass Go.    

Marisha Pessl

In similar territory Donna Tartt’s The Secret History (2004) was memorable, and frightening, but this similar book is neither.  

Death of a Ghost (1934) by Margery Allingham.

Death of a Ghost (1934) by Margery Allingham.

GoodReads meta-data is 224 pages, rated 3.92 by 2,292 litizens.

Genre: Krimi.

Verdict: Smooth.  

A painter arranges for an elaborate posthumous deception/joke with his own work(s) without reckoning on the avarice of some later intermediaries. When the deaths begin, Albert Campion is there, but for once his motor-mouth is throttled; a mercy that is.  

There is a marvellous characterisation of the villain with an ingenious plot to match the painter’s set-up. Though I did wonder why the young artist’s works were disappearing and I don’t know that was ever explained. 

The best episode is the luxury dinner at which Campion is to be murdered!  He knows it, the villain knows it, readers know it, but needs must.   

Real Humans (Äkta människor) (2012) Season One.

Real Humans (Äkta människor) (2012) Season One. 

IMDb meta-data is twenty episodes of 60m, each rated 7.9 by 6,067

Genre: Sy Fy

Verdict:  Cogent.

In a contemporary Sweden android Hubots are the norm for simple repetitive jobs, companions for the elderly, and counter staff to deal with the idiocracy.  The Hubots are very, and I mean very, life-like but their programming is limited, however, there are hackers who for a price can breach those limits. Got it?  Even the Asimov Laws can be hacked down!  

(Think of this marketing pitch: Get your own Hubot look-alike and program it to attend budget meetings with the dean, insufferable training courses on nuclear waste disposal and playground safety for professors, and Department boards dominated by the least productive individuals. Where do I get mine?!)

Some people ignore the Hubots, others object to them, and still others find them threatening, while most happily benefit from the services they provide without a second thought. In this world we meet several individuals and families who cope with and react in different ways to the Hubots they encounter. A warehouse store-man fears losing his job to a doll, an estranged wife finds a Hubot a better companion than her alcoholic and volatile husband, a career woman finds a Hubot has unlimited energy and patience in dealing with her children, a teenage boy wonders if the Hubot maid is fully functional, an elderly man finds the Hubot carer assigned to him is a nag about diet and medication and with which he cannot bargain, a pensioner grows so emotionally dependent on his old model Hubot that when it breaks down he grieves without end, a pastor sees them as another example of God’s children but her flock does not….  While others despise these PacMen and Women.   

We also meet, and we meet them first, a band of ferrel Hubots with their leader Leo, who judging by his Hollywood shadow, is a human.  We also encounter two police officers who specialise in recovering erratic Hubots, tracking down ferrel ones, and arresting illegal hackers who re-program legal Hubots to satisfy paying customers in a thriving blackmarket. There is not much of a problem and the police work is slow and methodical.   

Juice break at the warehouse.

The Real Humans are a loose group of anti-Hubots who stick decals on windows, shout slogans, wear red hats (oops just made that up!), and some arm themselves with rocket launchers and automatic rifles against the day when….?  Well, who knows, but it is always comforting to have a bazooka under the bed in case agents of the deep state come to haul one back to the looney bin.    

And all is not what it at first seemed to be.   

It is uncompromising in presentation, so pay attention. Unlike painfully didactic Yankee television designed for the attention-deficit audience of Pox News, there are no internal summaries when one character explains to another what is happening, nor any labels of time and place, or title cards to focus, or recaps with each new episode.  Nor is there any of the sanctimonious preaching so predictable on Brit TV.  Little is explained as the narrative unfolds, but it seems that in due course all questions will be answered for those with the eyes to see.  

I have seen the ten episodes of season one but cannot lay hands on the next ten from season two with English subtitles.  Little help, please.  

Death in Malta (2000) by Rosanne Dingli

Death in Malta (2000) by Rosanne Dingli

GoodReads meta-data is 304 pages, rated 3.88 by 98 litizens. 

Genre: suspense.

Verdict:  Nifty.

Set-up: Second-time Australian genre author goes to Malta to get away from it all and finish, well, start that second book, ostensibly planning to stay with his Maltese in-laws, but once there he has no wish to find the relatives of his seven-year estranged wife. In the Mediterranean heat and glare, he heads for hills to a remote village where he finds a farm house to rent that is dirt cheap but with most mod cons.  Excellent.  

The locals treat him with a friendly respect, some of whom have relatives in Australia, but he is nonetheless an object of curiosity for them.  The more so when they realise he is living in that house.  (Move over Stephen King….)  There is a reason why no else wants to live in it.

He begins to piece together what did and what might have happened years ago, and uses it as the plot for the second novel, but as he does so….  Well, is it imagination or reality?  A retired local doctor trembles whenever asked about the previous owners of the house. Protagonist hears stories of a lost boy, and sets out to put it altogether on paper, if not in flesh.  

Much to his own surprise he attracts a local squeeze and things seem to be going right.  He pounds the keyboard most nights as the story of the lost boy takes shape.  Squeeze enthusiastically assists in tracking down details while Doctor reluctantly pitches in.  Even the local plumber adds some intel about how the drain pipes in the village work.  

There is a resolution and a happy ending despite all the foreboding as he excavates drains, pipes, memories, cellars, wells, and much of the land of the house looking for clues, and irritates and alienates the neighbours by persisting in nosing around. It gets worse before it gets better.

Writer’s integration into village life is well told, and the locale is a major feature. I chose it for that locale as change from the run of Nordic reading I have been doing.  Plus who does not like Maltesers. He finds villagers speak three kinds of English, depending on age.  The oldest speak a slangy tar speech from the days when they learned from British sailors.  Then the post-war generation speaks a stilted school-book English, correct but devoid of idioms. Finally, the youngsters have a Euro-English derived from MTV and the like. 

Roseann Dingli

The author has several other titles that seem to be similar.  

The Dying Detective (2010) by Leif Persson

The Dying Detective (2010) by Leif Persson

GoodReads meta-data is 548 pages, rated 3.96 by 1,923 litizens.

Genre: krimi.

Verdict: Superb.

While recovering from a heart attack, retired head of the National Crime Command in Sweden, one Lars Johanssen takes an interest in a cold case. It is a tired cliché brought to life by a master story teller.  Lars spends most of the pages lying on the sofa at home as he recruits the home help, his brother’s factotum, his wife (and her brother), and another retired curmudgeon to scratch the itch.  

Whenever his officers used complain at the impossible missions he assigned them, he always said, ‘Make the most of what you have.’  Now his physiotherapist says exactly that to him as he comes to terms with his new limitations, a dead right arm, poor coordination, recurrent headaches, and dizzy episodes.  He didn’t realise how irritating and annoying that remark was until someone else said it to him!

His wife is a bank director and she can ferret out financial information from rabbit holes and her brother is a retired tax accountant who understands it. Curmudgeon has access to the police warehouse where the paper files from the case are stored through a nephew in uniform.  (Good thing, too, that the paper is there because a computer disk crack destroyed the digital files, which to cut costs were not backed-up.) The home help is whip smart, and the factotum is a body builder who learned to survive the hard way.  As Lars says, it is one of the best investigative teams he ever had, apart from the lack of badges and uniforms.  

While the statute of limitations has expired on the cold case, surely the perpetrator did not stop at one.  But who is he?  Yes, it had to be a he.  (Figure it out.)  

It all turns on a fibre that should not have been there.  But the puzzle has many pieces.

Along the way, Lars learns to accept his frailty and comes to like the home help despite the tattoos and studs, and swallows his ingrained hatred of Russians (the body builder).  He still has time and room to grow, if reluctantly.  Pia, his wife, quietly observes his changes.    

I got to know and like Lars in Death of Pilgrim, reviewed elsewhere on this blog, and went looking for other books featuring his investigations. Solid gold, this one.  (Regrettably I did not like the second one I read, Falling Freely, as If in a Dream (2007), finding it disjointed and indulgent.) 

Leif Persson

A couple of niggles.  I cannot quite see how the original investigation did not turn up the nephew-in-law.  I also wondered early on why the father’s paramour from the hospital was not interrogated either in the original investigation or much sooner by Lars. See, I was paying attention.  

This Time Away (2019)

This Time Away (2019)

IMDb meta-data is 13 minutes, rated 7.3 by 164 cinematizens.

Genre: Sy Fy

Verdict: Satisfying.  

Nigel is a grumpy old man and content to remain that.  My audience identification was immediate. The usual tropes follow but they are so well done that it works.  His closed shell opens a crack, and the patient robot enters…slowly.  Maybe I am a sucker for this motif since I liked Robot & Frank (2012), too, when so many did not. Though Robot in Robot & Frank did conspire in a bank robbery. It must the Isaac Asimov effect.  

Another short winner from DUST with the ever versatile Timothy Spall as the reclusive Nigel. It can be found on You Tube.  

Swiss Vendetta (2017) by Tracee de Hahn

Swiss Vendetta (2017) by Tracee de Hahn

GoodReads meta-data is 368 pages rated 3.62 by 584 litizens.  

Genre: krimi

Verdict: Brrrr. 

Detective Agnes Luthi transfers from financial crimes where she read spreadsheets to homicide in a career move up the pay-grade and at the end of the very day she gets the promotion prepares to drive home near Geneva (Switzerland, not Nebraska) when the winter storm of the century sets in. Just before she gets going a call comes in from Otranto Manor near Lac Leman. A corpse has been found and, as the phone masts go dark, she is the only investigator that the dispatcher can contact. With a big swallow off she goes on her first murder investigation on day one, alone in a white-out blizzard.  She has not even yet met your new boss who is now incommunicado. 

The weather sweeps in at 100 kilometres an hour closing roads, bringing down power lines, drivers abandon cars on the highway, trucks have jackknifed across traffic lanes, Luthi creeps along, missing the exit, and gingerly working her way back. The Manor is down the steep slope on the lake shore and in this weather it is virtually inaccessible, but needs must, and by baby steps and grasping branches and a few falls, Luthi makes her way down, even as the weather increases in intensity.  The wind howls, trees crack and fall, sheets of water lifted by the wind off the lake freeze in the air and strike like shrapnel, flashlight beams are blinding in the swirls of snow, it is only by dumb luck that she comes upon the body where she finds the local plod who arrived before the worst of the storm set in, but his falls en route have deprived him of his torch (lost) and cell phone (crushed). The flares he set out to mark the spot are either blown out or away by the winds. Everything is getting brittle in the Arctic temperature driven by Antarctic winds, including bones.  

Plod is totally preoccupied by his wife whom he was told just before his phone perished had gone into premature labour with their first child. He is frantic to turn the investigation over to the homicide squad, having done his job with the flares, and go to the hospital.  But there is no squad only Luthi who will not release him, and in any event, he cannot now ascend the slope in the dark night of this perfect storm.  

The blizzard is a magnificent character in the early going. There is no need for the characters to go on about being cold, the reader feels it through the prose. But it is soon superseded by the Manor itself, a millennium old castle (aka Old Dark House) with secret passages, hidden stairways, rooms concealed in the fifteen-foot thick walls, a dungeon, and in this storm none of the mod cons like electricity, gas, or telephone work. It is cold, dark, and silent.   

What follows is a police procedural as the members of the resident Addams Family are questioned and efforts are made in the isolated circumstances to examine the crime scene and the corpse. As if. 

I did think Luthi constant self-absorption with her own personal situation was egotistical and less justified than Plod’s worry about his wife.  Her problems are in the past. Why do krimi writers add backstory problems, isn’t a solo murder investigation in the situation hard enough?  Indeed this preoccupation is compounded throughout so as to lead to reader indigestion from over plotting.  I’ll say that again: it is over plotted.  There are so many plot lines that I got confused trying to keep track of them.  

But the locale, the situation, the Old Dark House, the cast of characters are well drawn, and maybe the overlarding can be calmed in the next outing, for I assume this is the start of series.  

The only other Swiss krimis I recall are the 1970s grim psychological tales of Friedrich Dürrenmatt usually involving unindicted war criminals and the fascist wanna be Friedrich Glauser’s 1930s books set in xenophobic Alpine villages.