From the series
opener and the abduction of Emily Zeuthen, old wounds were torn open as Sarah
Lund (Sophie Grabol) found herself on a case packed with the same sinister
undertones and suspect political involvement that underpinned the Nana Birk
Larsen case in series one. Given the overwhelming reception of the first
series, for many viewers this was a welcome return to the show’s roots. However
dark though, in series three our Nordic heroine’s attention remains elsewhere,
with an opportunity of securing a desk job looming and her son settling down with
his partner. In hindsight, one thing that the first two series’ struggled to
achieve was empathy and leaving the viewer feeling torn between Lund’s
commitment to the case and loyalty to her family. Of course, the detrimental
effects inflicted on her personal life in the wake of her work were both
touching and heartfelt, but always with a sense of “okay enough of that, now
lets get back to the good stuff”. This was not the case for series three. With
Lund starting out unbothered by the details of the case and feigning interest
here and there, especially in the first two episodes, there was a feeling of
detachment from it which was masterfully balanced by a strong sympathetic angle
for Lund’s wrecked relationship with her son and a desire for her to set it
right. This unprecedented move by the writers not only embellished these
subtler layers beneath the main plot, but made for harrowing moments in which
we see Lund balancing her two lives on a knife edge.
As the series progressed and details of the past were
exhumed with red herrings coming thick and fast (one of the shows most defining
devices), Lund is forced to make further sacrifices and in turn the audience is
forced to choose where they want Lund’s loyalties to lie. This clever shift
sets this series apart from its predecessors and paves the way for a new layer
in Lund’s private life: her relationship with Mathias Borch (Nikolaj Lie Kaas), a past love who finds
himself assisting Sarah on her hunt. Unlike her aides of the past, Borch is the
mirror and catalyst that Lund has needed to see herself and fix her life. Given
that Borch joins her in a professional capacity, the audience are also given permission
to experience Lund’s two lives overlapping for the first time.
As would be expected, Borch gives cause for suspicion midway
through the series but when it comes to ‘The Killing’, unless you’re Sarah
Lund, you’re going to be a suspect at some point. Borch’s arrival in this
series also compliments the degradation of our seasoned alpha male, Lennart Brix (Morten Suurballe), whose
authoritative presence and voice of reason have kept Lund on the straight and
narrow for two seasons. Series three however, sees Brix under harsh scrutiny
from powers above, forcing our once untouchable police boss into rocky
territory from the second episode. This fall from grace allows Borch to walk
straight into the show as our main man with whom we must place our faith.
Moving into the latter half of the series, it becomes clear
that Borch has some baggage, in the form of a failing relationship and a very
unhappy wife. Though I see the need to keep the audience on the edge with our
two protagonists, the lack of commitment to this sub-story rendered it an
ultimately pointless addition and actually proved to be a nuisance to an
already established and solid through line. These moments where extremely infrequent
though and were luckily quickly forgotten in the wake of some heated scenes
that had us seeing a little more of our ice queen than maybe we wanted (or
perhaps not enough).
As the series drew to a close and the identity of the
kidnapper was revealed, the audience were still left hanging until the bitter
end, yearning for answers regarding an immensely important older case. Now, though
I thoroughly enjoyed this series and revelled in its suspense, the
exceptionally weak connection between the political shenanigans and the Emily
Zeuthen case was a disappointment. As the climax approached, it felt as though
the two plots were going to come to a brilliant meeting point, but sadly this
did not come to fruition leaving me a little miffed as to the importance of the
second plot. Series one and two boasted some imaginative plot weaving and quite
clever misdirection regarding political figures and the line of justice, whereas
in series three, the politicians and their counterparts had no more necessity
than boosting the number of possible suspects . This was a true shame given
that the political plot began with mountains of potential and showcased some of
the better performances we have seen in the whole saga.
On reaching the breathtaking finale however, everything that
was once important in the show is left as redundant as Borch’s wife when Lund takes
the law into her own hands by executing the known perpetrator. In a Hollywood
movie, this climax would be overstated, tacky and I dare say expected. In ‘The
Killing’ however, it is placed ingeniously, turning three seasons of a struggling
detective on its head. In this moment we saw every ounce of injustice and memory
of uncaught criminals explode on screen under the final judgement of our
heroine who, in the end, became a symbol of moral justice. Beautiful
But what next? If I were to be asked how I feel about a
series four, my sensible answer would be “don’t do it”. Despite various
discrepancies, ‘The Killing’ has brought some powerful and refreshing stories
to its genre and I would hate to see it diluted by overkill, which we have seen
destroy too many great American dramas that have begun with a bang but ended
with a whimper. However, I have never been sensible by nature and so it would
be wrong to be sensible here. As such, my response to the possibility of a fourth
series is “Hell Yes.” Sarah Lund on the Run with the help of her Nordic hunk?
Bring it on!
7/10
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