Rillington Place. Snail-paced dirge that’s almost as slow as a photograph

Time to read
2 minutes
Read so far

Rillington Place. Snail-paced dirge that’s almost as slow as a photograph

December 07, 2016 - 18:09
Posted in:
0 reader reviews
Average: 3.5 (4 votes)
Rate this programme

At first I gave the Beeb’s dark drama Rillington Place the benefit of the doubt. Great cast, foreboding war-torn London atmosphere and a compellingly horrific real life story to grip the audience.

Rillington Place

At first I gave the Beeb’s dark drama Rillington Place the benefit of the doubt. Great cast, foreboding war-torn London atmosphere and a compellingly horrific real life story to grip the audience.

What’s not to like? After struggling through two painfully slow episodes, I am sorry to say the answer is: a lot. Let’s face it, this lethargic reworking of serial killer John Christie’s gruesome reign of terror is – to put it mildly – boring.

Narrative pace? What narrative pace? Any slower and it would be a photograph. Underplaying the softly spoken monster, the excellent Tim Roth takes less-is-more to a whole new level. It’s not that it’s a bad performance, it’s just that it’s hard to notice.

Allegedly injured in a World War 1 gas attack, Christie claimed he was unable to talk loudly ever again. With his bald head and sinister Yorkshire whisper, this homicidal fiend slaughtered at least eight women in his run-down flat at 10 Rillington Place.

Among his victims at the slum dwelling in Notting Hill - back then one of London’s most deprived areas – was his poor wife Ethel. So far in the telly version, she’s still alive. Cowering Ethel is played by Samantha Morton as a terrified spouse reluctantly covering for her vile husband. Another fine portrayal that is so understated it virtually slips through the cracks.

When the cops finally cottoned on that something was amiss, three more corpses were found in an alcove in the kitchen. So Christie wasn’t exactly a master criminal. But he was clever enough to frame his hapless lodger Timothy Evans (Nico Miralle) for the murder of his wife Beryl and baby daughter Geraldine. Evans was hanged for two grievous crimes he did not commit. Only afterwards did the bungling police realise they’d made a fatal mistake.

This disturbing catalogue of depravity and deception should be the stuff of seriously strong drama. Instead, Rillington Place chooses to chronicle the sickening saga in a series of arty allusions. Elliptically avoiding confronting the events head-on, it manages to be as tedious as it is drab. A major disappointment.

I know that I should salute the producers for having the courage to depict the bomb-blasted London of the 1940s and 50s as a browbeaten city of colourless misery. But the result is one of the most depressing programmes I’ve ever seen. Pass the cyanide, I can’t go on.

Never mind the blood and death at Christie’s house of horror, the dismal décor’s enough to drive you to suicide. I guess Farrow & Ball wasn’t a big thing in those days.

All of this would probably be fine as long as the action moved along with decent speed. Sadly, it’s a snail-paced dirge with terrible wallpaper.

In fairness, Roth’s Christie exudes quiet menace. But it doesn’t really work as the story of an evil killer… because we don’t see him killing anyone.

The aforementioned Evans speaks in two accents. His native Welsh and a jack the lad Cockney that he adopts whenever he’s not with his relatives. Might have been nice if they’d bothered to inform us why.

Anyway, one more instalment to go. Let’s hope it picks up the pace and injects a some of the drama it deserves. But after two hours of sheer tedium I’m not optimistic. Spoiler alert for those who don’t know their history, Christie doesn’t get away with it. And they all didn't live happily ever after.