Why are all billionaires portrayed as both reclusive and barking mad in film and television? I guess it's that if you have that kind of money, it pays to be careful with whom you mix because people most likely to be on the end of some kind of nefarious shenanigans are the ones with the biggest bank balances. This is possibly as true as calling Iceland the end of the world and whilst it is a bit chilly up there, it isn't actually the Arctic. Ironically Iceland has more green than this show is letting on, whereas Greenland (nearer the end of the world) has much more ice.
Pitched as a new generation of sleuth drama featuring Emma Corrin as Darby Hart, award -winning novelist and amateur murder snooper is created largely by the team behind the OA, most notably Brit Marling, and her signature flowing earth-mother, hemp-fuelled vibes which are smothering this to a dusty snore at times. If you had a pound coin for every time Corrin looks directly to camera, seemingly puzzling over which of the crew just farted themselves awake, then you'd have enough money for half a tank of diesel for a moderately powerful family car.
Saying that, this does have it's moments, but they are nothing more than that. Corrin is not endearing as protaganist Hart, anymore than she is convincing. Her back story feels superfluous in the same way that her relationship with Bill feels strained. This may not be her fault of course, as she will almost certainly have been directed towards understatement by Director Marling, who also pops up, incase you've forgotten what she looks like, but for little other quantifiable reason, if we're honest.
Marling's work has always been something to dwell on. She isn't the slowest director to get her point across but she is trying her best and doing this in half the time would have been entirely possible as well as preferred, if we're honest. The cast is well stocked with the aformentioned Corrin and Marling, but also Clive Owen (mad, rich scientist, frosty) and Harris Dickinson as the previously mentioned Banksy wannabe Bill, already somewhat notorious as a bit of a lad. All the birds love an artistic revolutionary scoundrel, eh?
Overlong and proud of it, you can get up and boil the kettle at pretty much any point without feeling the need to pause it, because you really won't have missed anything. Six out of seven episodes down so far, so fingers are firmly crossed for a rip-roaring finale, although I am not holding my breath. Brimming with quality, certainly, but this would have fared much better crammed into three hours instead of seven.