Shetland, Series 6, Episode 1: Nietzsche, ya bas
"Even the plukes appear to be method acting..."
I do feel for actors as they emerge, pale, hungover and blinking from behind their masks and locked-down Zoom monologues to face the cameras once more. And especially those involved in Shetland, who found themselves having to whip off their face coverings like Scandic-noir Zorbas to be filmed, before, post-scene, covering themselves with N95 impermeability.
A quick word about the Shetland shoot in Wir Shetland: after many local misgivings about the wisdom of importing cast and crew of 40-odd actually during lockdown, the care taken by the production to avoid local infections deserves praise. They behaved impeccably.
Oh, and thanks for all the cash.
Anyway, actors and acting. As season six emerged from its self-isolation on Wednesday, the effects of Covid were evident in the way it was shot and in the obvious relief of thespian facial muscles at being released from elasticated bondage. Even the plukes appeared to be method acting. Eyebrows twitched, lips trembled. Enormous closeups of quivering nostrils made me glad I don’t have 4K. But then, maybe the theatrical fizzogs (some of which appeared a little pasty) were just getting used to the wind. Careful! If it changes you'll stay looking that way. And speaking of the weather, we locals did wonder how they were going to deal with the snow/sun/rain/plague-of-frogs conditions. Answer: ignore meteorological continuity. Four seasons in one day pal. Snow? Heatwave? Deal with it. Sunscreen and frostbite treatment for Mr Jimenez!
To stress the fact that We Are Emerging From A Pandemic, it all began with grimness and grief, laid on with a gravedigger’s spade: Peerie Jimenez’s mother had died, and his dad was doiting. Bit of Maya Angelou at the graveside. Hope they got copyright clearance.
Enter a lawyer, Alex Galbraith, sorting out a family of refugees with leave to remain, being accosted by demonstrators who want women to take part in the Lerwick Up Helly Aa. Or it might be something to do with Donna Killick, murdering murderess from a previous series, who has lung cancer and is therefore being released, thanks to that same lawyer. Who seems ungrateful at getting a leg of mutton in lieu of payment for getting local bigwig Struan Niven-Tarquin Ffoulkes MacNjuggle off drunk driving at Lerwick Sheriff Court (“This is not LA Law….this is LK Law” as I once heard a defence solicitor thunder therein). More demonstrating, This time in aid of someone called after my Auntie Linda Morton, who’s a drug addict with child custody issues (not my Auntie, who’s currently consulting a different lawyer, brandishing a shoulder of lamb). Galbraith is after all, the only lawyer in Brigawick and he only accepts mutton in payment., as is traditional His wife wants to be an MP, apparently. Possibly hints of the upcoming spin-off series Shetland (and Orkney).
He heads home to Burra or possibly Trondra, pursued by a red car and a drone, which is itself being filmed by a drone. Is this the first meta-drone sequence on British telly? Shetland looks stunning, as usual. Cruise ship bookings are already soaring. Lawyer answers door to mysterious person who duly shoots him. An intentional reference here to the real-life and unsolved murder of bank manager Alistair Wilson in Nairn in 2004, particularly the details relating the weapon and bullet used, and I can only imagine what Wilson’s family made of it. It’s an example of reality-ghosting, a technique seen previously in Shetland and other dramas, where actual events are invoked as a way of infecting a story with contemporary relevance and dramatic power. Can’t help wondering if Police Scotland were consulted on this.
Anyway, the drone captures it all on an SD card. The drone pilot is a diver (he loves the depths, he flies above the clouds!) and is blackmailing someone with the evidence of dark deeds done by said dodgy driver; off he goes to work offshore. This will not end well. His wife is WORRIED. Bad things WILL HAPPEN. Saturation diving is probably the most dangerous job in the North Sea (note: back in the day you used to be able to tell sat divers in Aberdeen bars by their Rolex Seadweller watches, as opposed to the wimps sporting Submariners).
Meanwhile, my very favourite part of this week’s episode is a suspect with Killick connections, a shaven headed nerd called Fraser who looks like Renton out of Trainspotting and has a picture of infamous American Rope murderers Leopold and Loeb on his wall.
“Didn’t they believe in Nietzsche’s concept of ubermenschen? That they were above the moral authority of ordinary people, and killed a 14 year old boy to prove it?” That Peerie Jimenez! He knows his Wikipedia!
And so once again, Old Friedrich, funniest philosopher ever (just look at that moustache!) is traduced for the sake of a kneejerk dramatic trope. This is not the place for a dissertation on how ‘ubermenschen’ is best translated, but suffice to say there is more to his philosophy than those two over-privileged dickheads Leopold and Loeb. Meanwhile, muffled TV sound made me hear Peerie’s comment wrongly at first:
“It’s a pity they left a pair of glasses at the crime scene. Did nobody ubermention that!”
Unfortunately, on a quick replay, he didn’t say that at all. “No’ very ubermenschen that, was it?” Such a missed opportunity! For more on Nietzsche, may I invite you to trawl the internet and look for something like “Nietzsche, father of modern humanism?” Also Sprach Google. Oh, and there are loads of Nietszche jokes. He was, arguably, the philosopher who invented stand up comedy. But enough of this. It’s a bit of a Nietszche subject.
Back to the plotface! Somebody who doesn;t understand sd cards has gone drone burgling and tipped it into the sea. Best place for all drones, I say. Drone footage killed the crane shot! Helicopter pilots sit fuming at home. Steve Zissou out in the North Sea is now in a diving chamber where he’s being fed oxygen and helium in preparation for a couple of weeks’ work and obscure PInky and Perky jokes. The cops want to speak to Steve, but someone aboard the support vessel is out to get him, and decompresses the diving chamber, inflicting the bends on the unfortunate occupant (it’s not clear whether the other hapless divers are avoiding this scenario, which draws heavily on the horrendous Byford Dolphin tragedy of 1983, another piece of reality-ghosting.
What else? Lerwick police station has become the Tardis. Nine out of ten female actors in Scotland under the age of 40 now have the same eyebrows. Sandy Wilson (mysteriously unsuspended) has a Shetland accent. Everyone else appears to have come from Morningside, Kirkcaldy, Fyvie or Govan. Mark Bonnar is criminally underused (check out his epic performance in the truly Nietzschean, Kirk-kicking, completely wonderful Guilt). Shetland has the most advanced forensic medicine laboratory in Europe. Norwegian Fjogstad wooden kit houses are every bit as excellent as this show suggests. This edition of Shetland, it should be said, glows with a crystalline clarity not always kind to the cast (see above re plukes) And the mutton economy continues to flourish, at least here in Northmavine.
Keep going, Tom. Don't stop like that!