Faithless; Dover 24/7: Britain’s Busiest Port; Abandoned

“It’s all exquisitely done — very Swedish, very stylish. The director is Tomas Alfredson, whose 2011 film of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy was like a love letter to John le Carré; similarly this homage to Bergman is done with the care of an adoring acolyte. Bergman had, before his death in 2007, given Alfredson his blessing to remake the story. When a parallel timeline arrives showing the lifelong consequences of the transgression it feels unmistakably Bergman, the theme of old wounds and self-reflection also recalling Wild Strawberries. In this case an elderly David (Jesper Christensen, who some will recognise as Mr White in the Bond films) has discovered the whereabouts of the elderly Marianne (Lena Endre, who played Marianne in the film), now in fragile mental health. Clearly this affair will end horribly. Yet if Faithless is a pessimistic view of human fallibility the first two episodes never feel turgid or pretentious. And in a more basic TV viewing way, it’s refreshing to have a European drama that isn’t about quirky detectives, or quirky anything – rather one that conveys emotional intensity and a believable sense of its characters’ interiors. Two episodes in, I’m finding it quietly gripping.”
James Jackson, The Times

“Channel 4’s quirky, low-budget documentaries such as Dover 24/7: Britain’s Busiest Port, chronicling the day-to-day activities of ordinary working people, are part of a tradition stretching back to the Look At Life series of short films that were shown in cinemas - in the days when no one at all had colour TVs. Dover 24/7, now in its second year, is a charming mix of the mundane and the marvellous. One segment followed two middle-aged police officers, Ian and Neil, as they helped a couple of ferry passengers change their car’s wheel, after it clipped a bollard. Hard though it is to imagine anything more low-key or inconsequential, I find factual TV like this oddly absorbing.”
Christopher Stevens, Daily Mail

“The series feels a little helter-skelter at times; a flurry of emotion and confusion and startling new information and leads and blind alleys, all jostling for space. This chaos is possibly a directorial choice – after all, events don’t unfold in a linear fashion but instead tumble out in a flood of patchy but potent memories. As the oldest child, Ramón was the key to the process. He trawled his subconscious and shapes from his past began to form. A toy store with a crocodile in the window. A park with a fountain. A bad-tempered elderly woman, dressed in black. A large glass of warm milk. This stuff makes the story feel strangely universal: we all have these kinds of associations – vague, bordering on random, yet oddly specific and meaningful to us. However, Ramón also remembers picking up a gun, firing it and seeing sparks dance on the stone steps where the bullet hit. This is somewhat less universal. But, as had already been hinted, there had to be a reason why these children found themselves alone at a railway station.”
Phil Harrison, The Guardian