I've now watched -- at the behest of two friends who are fervent fans -- the first six episodes. Perhaps I'll watch (or fast-forward through) the next two, in the hope that the eighth installment may resolve the main ongoing murder mystery.
But so far, I'm disappointed and rather puzzled. Virtually all the characters in SPIRAL strike me as insipid, unconvincing, and unappealing (except for, oddly enough, a beefy coke-addicted slobbish cop who's supposed to be one of the more flawed characters but is actually rather likable). In particular, the smirking pretty-boy prosecutor played by Gregory Fitoussi emerges as a complete sap (he's certainly unlike any lawyer I've ever encountered), and the wide-eyed, sweaty-looking, jump-into-bed policewoman played by Caroline Proust just plain lacks gravitas. She acts like an overgrown coed rather than a tough law-enforcement officer.
Moreover, the contrivances and coincidences of the plot seem increasingly preposterous. The Fitoussi character is implausibly connected with the very crime he's investigating in not one but two unlikely ways, either one of which would presumably disqualify him from proceeding; and even when he learns again and again of a compromised friend's duplicity and possible guilt in the plot's central murder case, he continues to be pals with him as if nothing had been revealed. Further, the defense lawyer played by Audrey Fleurot seems to be working so many different cases, on so many different sides (including, improbably, handling the prosecutor's own divorce!), that one would think she's the only attorney in Paris.
I'm additionally bothered by how brief and perfunctory many of the legal scenes are. Typically, a character will stroll into the prosecutor's office, mumble a few sentences about some problem or other, and the prosecutor will look up from the pad on which he's been jotting down notes and will say, in effect, "Okay, I'll take the case." Or, by the same token, someone will stop the Fleurot character in a street or hallway, tell her "I'd like to hire you to do such-and-such," she'll think it over for a few seconds, then she'll nod and agree. I refuse to believe that any legal system, even that of the notoriously superficial French, can be this casual; conversations in real life just aren't so cut-and-dried, especially when people are supposedly talking to police officers, lawyers, or judges.
The pot-boiling plot, with further complications and unlikely connections introduced with each new episode, is made to appear a bit more gritty and realistic because of the twitchy camera work. You may like that sort of thing; personally, it gives me a headache. If someone is merely seated quietly at a desk, I don't want a hand-held camera jerking around to give the scene the illusion of suspense. But I concede that the technique may work for some; hell, it certainly seems to have worked for most of the writers on this page who've been singing the praises of this series.
But so far, I'm disappointed and rather puzzled. Virtually all the characters in SPIRAL strike me as insipid, unconvincing, and unappealing (except for, oddly enough, a beefy coke-addicted slobbish cop who's supposed to be one of the more flawed characters but is actually rather likable). In particular, the smirking pretty-boy prosecutor played by Gregory Fitoussi emerges as a complete sap (he's certainly unlike any lawyer I've ever encountered), and the wide-eyed, sweaty-looking, jump-into-bed policewoman played by Caroline Proust just plain lacks gravitas. She acts like an overgrown coed rather than a tough law-enforcement officer.
Moreover, the contrivances and coincidences of the plot seem increasingly preposterous. The Fitoussi character is implausibly connected with the very crime he's investigating in not one but two unlikely ways, either one of which would presumably disqualify him from proceeding; and even when he learns again and again of a compromised friend's duplicity and possible guilt in the plot's central murder case, he continues to be pals with him as if nothing had been revealed. Further, the defense lawyer played by Audrey Fleurot seems to be working so many different cases, on so many different sides (including, improbably, handling the prosecutor's own divorce!), that one would think she's the only attorney in Paris.
I'm additionally bothered by how brief and perfunctory many of the legal scenes are. Typically, a character will stroll into the prosecutor's office, mumble a few sentences about some problem or other, and the prosecutor will look up from the pad on which he's been jotting down notes and will say, in effect, "Okay, I'll take the case." Or, by the same token, someone will stop the Fleurot character in a street or hallway, tell her "I'd like to hire you to do such-and-such," she'll think it over for a few seconds, then she'll nod and agree. I refuse to believe that any legal system, even that of the notoriously superficial French, can be this casual; conversations in real life just aren't so cut-and-dried, especially when people are supposedly talking to police officers, lawyers, or judges.
The pot-boiling plot, with further complications and unlikely connections introduced with each new episode, is made to appear a bit more gritty and realistic because of the twitchy camera work. You may like that sort of thing; personally, it gives me a headache. If someone is merely seated quietly at a desk, I don't want a hand-held camera jerking around to give the scene the illusion of suspense. But I concede that the technique may work for some; hell, it certainly seems to have worked for most of the writers on this page who've been singing the praises of this series.