The final episode of this bleak drama dawns with the realisation that, for all the best efforts of the fine cast, the Coulthard Street house is playing the lead. Its shabby, unknowable isolation seems to mirror and indeed, accentuate that of its dysfunctional inhabitants – director Coky Giedroyc might well be the true star of the show.
As the endgame approaches, the lack of nuance notable in certain protagonists feels increasingly beside the point – this isn’t realism, it’s character as a series of metaphors; for mistrust, for loneliness, for selfishness, for vindictiveness. Appropriately, the final half hour is a helter-skelter of red herrings, false endings and further plunges towards grim understanding – perhaps the real point is not that one tenant is guilty but that any of them could have been. It’s never subtle but it’s great, grubby fun and keeps you guessing right until the end.
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