4 out of 5

Created by: Scott Frank and Chandni Lakhani

covers season 1

When you can see the signposts for the mystery but still feel fully rewarded by its reveal, and the journey to get there: that is good storytelling.

Dept. Q, while nominally following the flow of a standard UK mystery series – some small-town secrets; a curmudgeonly cop / detective lead who is paired up with an odd couple partner; big ol’ To The Top! revelations and just as many red herrings; commentary on policing, and class – mixes up the formula a bit with the slowborn of Nordic noir, perhaps owing to the source material for the series being written by the Danish Jussi Adler-Olsen, and show creators / co-writers Scott Frank and Chandni Lakhani dedication to maintaining that vibe. This blending, plus excellent casting (and patience!) allows the show to sidestep some common tropes, in subtle ways that are not immediately grabbing in the way either BBC or Nordis tend to be, with some upfront brutality or twist, but prove to be incredibly satisfying in the longrun. Things are still subject to some filler, of course – with episode counts having shrunk and shrunk over the streaming years, we’re slowly inflating again, Dept. Q joining some others in an oddball nine episode run – but Frank, Lakhani, and a small handful of other runners at least make sure to remember that filler when the conclusion comes, providing the sense that it could be put to good use in further seasons, with several more Adler-Olsen books to adapt…

Dept. Q – without real clarity on why that needed abbreviation, except maybe shorter titles are more appealing? – is the never-spoken name given to a newly appointed cold case squad in the Scottish police force, which is actually maybe a dumping ground for difficult detective Morck (Matthew Goode), who’s gained no extra charm after returning from a near-fatal shooting incident that’s left him with PTS, and a partner (Jamie Sives) permanently impaired in the same shooting, and who’s now subject to the Chief’s (Kate Dickie) need for some good P.R. and hence: Dept. Q. …Only we’ll stick ‘im in the basement, in the old shower quarters, behind a door with the label – except the ‘Q’ in “quarters” – mostly worn off, and team him with a skittish desk-bound detective, Rose (Leah Byrne), and a seemingly green IT guy who says he’s a detective, Akram (Alexej Manvelov).

Morck, trying to manage his job-mandated therapy, troubles at home with a roommate and his son, and meanwhile trying to solve the mystery of his masked shooter, has no time for the joke he views Dept. Q as, until Akram picks a case off the pile and has faith they can track down its four-years-missing topic: prosecutor Merritt Lingard (Chloe Pirrie). While the discomfiting gathered Q group poke and prod at the case, we get flashbacks and etcetera to catch us up on the high-profile trial that may be related to Lingard’s disappearance – which, to Morck, also means her presumed death.

Things proceed generally apace, with Morck’s hard-edges softening, the team’s dynamic strengthening, and the once hopeless cold case becoming quite hot. I felt like there were some too-clear signposts for the solve to remain all that mysterious, especially if you watch stuff like this often, but that’s where the show’s balancing is key: we spend quite a bit of time up front establishing a lot of the players, but not in the overwrought “everyone has a tragic backstory” way that tends to create a lot of mid-season churn for shows. Nor is anyone played up to be a particular mystery in and of themselves, even if we only get their backgrounds in little driblets of information, much like… real life. Dept. Q very much avoids the exposition dumps and forced connections that all dramatic TV loves, and while that makes its first few episodes of a rather humdrum tone, it sets an intriguing standard that – backed up by humble performances from Goode and Pirrie, willing to let their characters look none too empathetic – captures one’s attentions indirectly. You press play on the next episode out of genuine curiosity as to how this world is shaping up, as opposed to a cheap cliffhanger. And by the time we do start to get those cliffhangers, the upfront work has paid off in spades: reactions and interactions have meaning, and weight. So even though parts of the mystery may fall into place as expected (with some surprises, still!), it all still works because you’re invested in the totality of things.

This sincerely carries throughout all nine episodes: we do not break for an easy moral and a miraculous line of reasoning. The show – the book, the adapters – stick to the rules they outlined for themselves at the outset.

Every time I’ve seen evidence of shows giving its intended audience some due respect for our viewerly intelligence, I’ve wanted to see it executed more. Dept. Q feels like one of the fullest realizations of that, as it’s willing to present things without a lot of hyperbole or baiting, with the promise that it will be worth it in the end.