by Robin Oliver

The first in this short series about the recycled Frank Burnside got off to a bright enough start. Not classic character-driven television police work, but pleasing enough with some quite good locations.

Now a detective chief inspector in charge of one of those conveniently assembled high-profile police squads in which, probably much to the relief of the casting director, there are hardly any officers and no visible support staff, Burnside is left floundering and, as his resentful young officers keep noting, showing his age.

The second two-part story, "Exposed", is a disaster, poorly directed and extremely badly acted, notably by Christopher Ellison himself, who plays Burnside as if he is thoroughly fed up with the character - which seems to be the case, for he has vowed to make no more.

"Exposed" is one of those routine stories that is cranked out to peg gaps in series proposals that, from a mile away, look like good ideas, but always seem to get bogged down when the writers are lumbered with the task of moving a character to a totally new situation.

It worked more or less reasonably when Burnside was rather heavy-handedly dragged back to Sun Hill to work with some of his old mates cranking out The Bill. However, Burnside, Burnside and yet more Burnside over six 75-minute spells is hard to write, and this new adventure has collapsed at the second start.

A serial killer is strangling women. A pattern is established, but the local police, while baffled and in need of help, are completely resentful when Burnside's high-powered unit moves in on their patch.

Burnside has intuition. He thinks he has spotted the suspect right away.

His detective constable, Sam (Zoe Eeless [sic]), is certain it must be another man and pursues her own inquiries, which are no less reasonable than her boss's theory, though she does so at personal risk. That creates artificial tension right away, particularly because Burnside had not only given his blessing to individual initiative, but, in his welcoming moments, appeared to be insisting on it.

But it is the acting, the stilted standing around in set piece groups and - apart from Beachy Head, a spectacular stretch of white cliffs on England's south coast - a minimum of location work, which drags the episode down.

The producers must have run out of petty cash. This is dull and formula driven and you may find yourself nodding off.

[oh dear. better remember to stick a tape in then - ar]

© 2001 John Fairfax Publications Pty Ltd

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