Saturday, June 18, 2016


I am not one to encourage people to watch television, and especially not to binge-watch.  Life is too precious to spend anything but exhausted downtime in front of the television.  TV for me is a wind-down when my mind has been totally engaged for ten hours straight and it needs a break.  However, in some cases, what I am watching is still intellectually engaging and at the same time emotionally powerful.

Such was the case with a British show my husband got me watching on Netflix.  From the very beginning I was hooked, and that is saying something.  I have finished the first two seasons and I recommend it highly.  I will admit David Tennant's Scottish accent gets pretty dicey sometimes, but other than that, it almost seems like the show was made for Americans.

I did figure out the killer, well, the first one in the story, ahead of time, but that didn't keep me from continuing the watching.  It is interesting that an Anglican priest is one of the main, sympathetic characters and the title is Broadchurch.  I have read there is an American version called Gracepoint and it is identical, including David Tennant.  No need to watch that, though.

I had my favorite moments, notably when Detective Miller reconciles with her teenage son by taking a stand rather than pleading with him.  The boy's reaction is priceless.  The actress who plays the mother of the victim is wonderful, too.  The theme is relationships and what it takes to have them and what happens when they go wrong. 

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