The Killing III, BBC Four | TV reviews, news & interviews
The Killing III, BBC Four
Third series of Denmark's greatest TV export sets itself up to be more compelling than its predecessor
Zipping her trousers while coming out of a toilet cubicle, Sarah Lund continues the phone conversation that was on-going while she was in there. Making for a sink to wash her hands, she ignores the puppyish man trying to attract her attention. Nothing is going to distract Chief Inspector Lund, whether it’s the call of nature or the new police kid on the block.
The third and final series of The Killing doesn’t begin exactly like the second, with Sofie Gråbøl’s Lund marking time checking what comes off ships arriving in Denmark. Instead, we find her in another sort of holding pattern. On her 25th anniversary in the police, she’s looking forward to working for Operative, Planning and Analysis, a comfy chair-bound posting in a department considered a joke by the rest of the force.
Preoccupied with her favoured path, Lund doesn’t engage with the body parts littering a scrapyard on Copenhagen’s dock side. A wheelbarrow there, which she fancies buying, is more interesting. Earnest new boy Asbjørn Juncker (Sigurd Holmen Le Dous) senses this is more than the random murder of a homeless person. She’s not fussed. The involvement of Special Branch operative Mathias Borch (Nikolaj Lie Kaas) (pictured right, photo by Tine Harden) – brought in as the docks were a stop-off for the campaigning Prime Minister – doesn’t divert her either. Soon, a photo of a tattooed, dismembered arm draws her in, even though she’s at home having a difficult phone conversation with her son. Lund won’t be heading for stats and charts.
The UK premiere of The Killing III is a major distraction. One that might even turn Lund’s head. Even if the nitty-gritty of the 30 episodes of the first two series aren’t familiar, she has become instantly recognisable. Although not quite on the same level, The Killing and its fellow DR (Denmark's national broadcaster) production Borgen have also achieved the unlikely by making Denmark’s complex coalition politics familiar. Lund and her boss, Morten Suurballe's Lurch-like Lennart Brix, are the only characters retained from previous series. Otherwise, there's a raft of new faces to get to grips with.
Despite that, The Killing's universality makes it instantly compelling. The stories are grim, with unflinching depictions of victims, squalor and people knocked off balance, but it’s the finely drawn characters and their personal lives which resonate so much. Lund’s reaction to being told by her mother that her son does not want to see her is heart-stopping. Lonely, she rings up Borch in the dead of the night. He’s brisk, but they were at college together and have a past which will no doubt be revealed as the series unfolds.
Subscribe to theartsdesk.com
Thank you for continuing to read our work on theartsdesk.com. For unlimited access to every article in its entirety, including our archive of more than 10,000 pieces, we're asking for £2.95 per month or £25 per year. We feel it's a very good deal, and hope you do too.
To take an annual subscription now simply click here.
And if you're looking for that extra gift for a friend or family member, why not treat them to a theartsdesk.com gift subscription?
The story of the band's long way to the top was engaging, but too short
Sally Wainwright and Sarah Lancashire return to police work in Yorkshire laden with BAFTAs
Louis CK defies expectations with his brand new 'not a comedy' show
Scorsese and Jagger shine a light on the Seventies music business
Long-awaited sci-fi return gets off to a lacklustre start
A clutch of great performances well filmed, but brevity sells Tolstoy short
Which is faster, cleverer and stronger? And do our pets really love us?
Lynn Alleway's documentary gets up close and personal, but reveals little
Don't look now, but TV is dead: scary primer on the frontline of new media
Welcome return of the upmarket legal saga, plus a glimmer of vintage Gambon
Real-life trial at retirement living in Jaipur curiously disavows past precedents
The slow, lingering death of the Great British Crime Drama