One of my favourite shows is back
In which it takes a long-awaited return to remind me just how much I love Christopher Foyle.
This is going to be short and sweet, but I have to write a little bit about Foyle's War.
I've been a fan of this show from the start. It's never delivered a bad episode, but it's also so sparing with its portions that I'm always wanting more. Having said that, I was doubtful about continuing the series past 1945. The final episode of the sixth series was, I thought, a wonderful finale, and after all, this is Foyle's War. It was so tied to World War II - to the Blitz, and the Nazis, and the American air bases, and all that stuff - that Foyle's Post-War was all but unimaginable.
But here we are, in series eight. I'll confess, a bit of that nostalgic regret still lingers. It's thanks to executive meddling that we've jumped ahead so far, so it's not something I can blame anyone involved in running the show for. But somehow, despite the fact that this is pretty much a spy show now, it still feels right. It's Michael Kitchen that does it. He's probably my favourite TV detective ever - ahead of Suchet's Poirot, of all the Marples, certainly of any of the modernist lot; possibly even Cumberbatch's Holmes. There's something about that very British reserve, the severity blended with genuine kindness and warmth, that just makes him perfect. It's a balance that writers have struggled with for a while - how do you make your detective as ruthless as they need to be in order to be effective, without losing the audience's respect? Foyle has the answer; he confronts the criminal, explains to them that he understands truly why they've done what they've done and he's very sorry, and at the same time he has absolutely no patience for it.
Blessedly, Sam Wainwright (nee Stewart) is back too. I miss Milner a little, but Sam was always the stronger character, and she and Foyle are the show's essential ingredients. Her bubbly naivete has been tempered by a certain well-hidden weariness, and I'm fascinated with where her character might be going. Her husband (recast) is rather lovely too.
We seem to have a little mini-ensemble following us too, including Ellie Haddington's Miss Pierce, who can stick around as far as I'm concerned. Everyone's looking a little older and greyer, and the world has moved on, but Foyle's War is one of my favourite shows and it's also one that I know will never, ever disappoint.
If you haven't seen this show, watch it. If possible, watch it on a cold, wintry night, curled up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate in front of the heater. Something about this show, from the haunting theme music to the grey pallette, is tremendously comforting to me. Perhaps its my latent Anglophilia; this show is the embodiment of that most British of sentiments: Keep calm, and carry on.
Carry on, Foyle. Another eight seasons are fine by me.