Robert Carlyle delivers the only 'realistic' piece of dialogue in four weeks worth of The Last Enemy.
Dare I suggest it was delivered with the sort of clarity and belief that implied it was ad-libbed?
For a drama on conspiracy, identity cards, migration, and health, with a cast like Benedict Cumberbatch (who has cornered the market lately in gauche if well-meaning intellects), the luminously gorgeous Anamaria Marinca (recalling the face of young Barbara Flynn circa 'A Very Peculiar Practice' and the early Beiderbecke series), Geraldine James and David Harewood... (we'll overlook the insanity of thinking Max Beesley can act) what happened?
The pace was all over the place, the script/direction used Every Single Cliche from every spy/conspiracy/government movie you have even heard of, and the characterisations just didn't work. I like a twisty narrative but spending that much time going 'huh?' to oneself rather detracted from keeping up with the 'plot'.
An opportunity wasted.
Why did we watch it? The house has been bedlam and we felt charitable. It was (only) just about worth it for that one line from Carlyle, and even then only partly because of the Scottish accent...
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