The story was nicely paced and realistically acted, with some unexpected twists thrown in. The exteriors were still finely English but not as sugary as in the opening episode, which was reassuring. Then for some reason, five minutes before the end, it all descended into a manic hodgepodge of clichés. As if the creators decided to sprint through 30 famous horror films in 300 seconds. Throwing at us blatant chunks of Psycho, Rosemary's Baby and every 70s slasher flick in existence. If Midsomer was meant to be a nuanced character study of English repression, as I assumed it to be, then the ending to this particular tale manifests some odd choices.
Review of Written in Blood
