Requiem - BBC 1

Not a good start! As engaging as a dial tone on the telephone line to the speaking clock. And twice as obtuse. Every possible obvious clichéd device from every missing murdered child killer thriller there has ever been. So of course being called 'Requiem' it is a ghost story essentially so is probably Jesuit Catholic piffle like The Exorcist'. If I hear one more 'haunting violin' ethereal soundtrack I will throw up. It was all so obvious and appeared to be written & designed by the inexperienced, sixth formers would have done better. 

The 'star' appears in what seems to be a badly made wig. This in itself is problematic. For someone who we are asked to believe is a world class classical musician, this wig has the worst cut fringe I have ever seen. The sort protopunk art student gals had in the seventies. Now if it is her real hair she could have clearly afforded to have it cut professionally as opposed to a pudding bowl to do the fringe and leave the rest. It ought to have it's own billing in the cast list it is so bad and distracting. 

This also illustrate another problem. We are more distracted by the haircut than any aspect of the plot. Like this sound track. You shouldn't really be aware more of the drivelling violins that than the plot setting! 

Ooh I knew let's have the characters get away for a bit (into the mountainous countryside of course) after the stars mother has cut her throat with a kitchen knife just as she is due to go on stage (highly believable she even said sorry) An entirely wasted Joanna Scanlon (thus far) but most of the cast seem to be

Never trust anything that says things like 'there is more than just ghosts in those woods' 

Edgar Allen Poe it ain't and has no-one read any Stephen King anymore? Heck it's even written by the guy who did 'The Slap' which I thought was brilliant but this with it's painting by numbers gothic and it's "predictable protocols" storms the standards of cliché ! Modern horror by recipe . . . . . . . dreadful droning rubbish, meh!

Matilda struggles to find the door . . . . .