Axiomatic of ITV's pursuit for the ideal replacement for Inspector Morse, a raft of detective serials have been produced of late which have, for the most part, crashed and burned. With the possible exception of the exemplary Foyle's War and the largely overlooked Rosemary and Thyme, the search for a regular on-going series of murder mysteries has been a troublesome thorn in the corporation's side.



Thus, into the fray was launched what, on paper at least, appeared to be the ideal dramatic vehicle for Robert Lindsay in Jericho, a 1950s-set drama series harking back to the days of No Hiding Place and Dixon Of Dock Green. Centred on Scotland Yard hero Michael Jericho (Lindsay), the series was essentially a straightforward "crime is committed and police plod along, find the clues and crack the case" drama production gently sprinkled with a few character pieces to sustain audiences (Jericho's passion for jazz music being one of the more obvious Morse-isms employed on the series).



Paired alongside David Troughton as Sergeant Clive Harvey (the more settled, family man of the duo), Lindsay portrayed Jericho (somewhat strangely) more as a well-worn gumshoe rather than a detective, becoming so swept up in the production unit's obsession with establishing the 1950s mood and tone that he became a shadow of a New York private detective, complete with clouds of cigarette smoke, ratty apartment and seedy prostitute girlfriend.

Part of the problem of the short-lived series (spanning four seventy-five-minute episodes) lay in the fact that the leading actor was employed to portray a shallow, empty character in which Lindsay was never able to inject the substantial gravitas or personality of, say, John Thaw as Inspector Morse, George Baker as Inspector Wexford or David Jason as Inspector Frost, into the role. Audiences were unable to get to grips with the character (who was plagued with flashbacks surrounding the death of his father at the hands of a London gangland villain who later crossed Jericho's path in the course of his duties - a wonderful turn from the memorable Peter Bowles, playing against type here) and thus the programme failed to cultivate the sort of viewing figures which would have ensured a second run.

The stories themselves were fairly run of the mill, with the cases being somewhat overshadowed by the obvious casting choices made (for instance, Francesca Annis' casting in A Pair Of Ragged Claws was nothing if a dead giveaway), and whilst Stewart Harcourt delivered some diverting content (including a homosexual storyline in the second episode and a 1950s serial killer in the final part), the programme itself proved to be popcorn television for the popcorn culture of contemporary ITV television - readily consumable viewing with no after-taste and scarcely memorable thereafter. This is not to say that Robert Lindsay, David Troughton and Ciaran McMenamin (as the somewhat wet-behind-the-years rookie Detective Constable John Caldicott) weren't entirely workmanlike in their performances: the series was entertaining viewing courtesy of their likeable turns, but with precious little character to get to grips with, it is a case of watching actors reading lines as opposed to viewing characters one has become keenly acquainted with.

Producer Cameron McAllister worked alongside directors Nick Renton, Diarmuid Lawrence and Tom Shankland on this brief Sunday night fixture. Somewhat surprisingly ITV are releasing the series on Region 2 DVD on
April 10th, 2006.

Text © Matthew Lee, 2006.