AU WHERE COLUMBO AND POIROT ARE WORKING JOINT CASES AND THEY SUSPECT EACH OTHER AT FIRST BUT AFTER A FEW HOURS THEY’RE LIKE “NAH WE CAN WORK THIS” BUT THEY PRETEND TO STILL SUSPECT EACH OTHER AND PEOPLE CHOOSE SIDES BUT IN THE END THEY SOLVE THE CASES TOGETHER AND PART AS GOOD FRIENDS
I NEED IT
I NEED IT SO BAD
I dunno if this is going to make anyone feel any better, but I accidentally typed “Peter Jeeves” instead of Jakes when trying to tag a post, and now I’m imagining a Jeeves and Wooster/Morse crossover?
One where everyone is happy and nobody is shot and
JeevesJakes and Thursday and Morse all get together to solve the crime of the missing cow-creamer. And ACC Deare isn’t part of a putrid, corrupt, monstrous collective, just a coterie of scary aunts or something.
fanfic it out man
Your affection for a television programme can sometimes boil down to the smallest things. I’ve fallen for Endeavour over the last four weeks, a classy bit of Sunday-night escapism that, on paper, had some prejudices to overcome. It’s a spin-off for one thing, which always feels a little indolent as a commission. It’s also two hours long, which needn’t be a defect in a drama, but does put quite a high premium on it having some compensatory virtues. And it’s a period piece, which raises the danger that a Bakelite telephone or a vintage Vauxhall Cresta will used as a substitute for the kind of qualities you can’t simply hire from a prop house. But Endeavour has risen above all these disadvantages, largely because in Russell Lewis’s hands it knows when to stop.
Take Proverbs 26:11 as an illustrative text. The biblical text came up when Morse was called back north by his sister to visit his ailing father, an undemonstrative log of a man who chided him for making a fuss. “Proverbs 26:11,” she explained, was what Morse’s father had muttered when he learned that his son had returned to Oxford as a policeman. And the attractive thing about that scene was that she didn’t explain it further to Endeavour and the drama didn’t explain it further to us. There was a kind of clue, to bridge the gap for those who didn’t know. Morse implicitly paraphrased it as “returning to the scene of the crime”. But to get that it was the verse about a fool returning to his folly “as a dog returneth to his vomit”, you either had to know, or go and look it up.
The restraint made that moment far more believable than it might otherwise have been, the kind of modest opacity that real life is full, of but television dramas often like to tidy out of the way, for fear that an audience will take umbrage at being presented with anything less than utter transparency. And it feels there’s an analogy in that withholding for the careful underplaying of Shaun Evans as the young Morse. The visit home to his father rounded out the character a little more; that taciturnity is inherited, you suddenly see, and Morse’s relationship with Roger Allam’s bluffly paternal DI takes on a new aspect. But everything is done with virtually nothing on show. In a very touching moment at the end of last night’s episode, Evans conveyed Morse’s confused emotions at the death of his father with nothing more than a stricken fussing with his hands, gestures half completed and then cancelled. That was worth 20 minutes of gun-play."
Some Peter Jakes-related rambling (with some added theories about Strange.)
Because it’s rare indeed that a piece of television can move me deeply enough that I’m upset to think about it days later.
So after thinking about it, another part of the reason I’m so sad about Jakes (apart from, y’know, everything) is that he doesn’t get the closure he deserves, not yet. He doesn’t get to see Deare go down. He does love Thursday, in his own weird filial way (the body language in the Trove pub scene just *screams* something, “the old man" reference), but nightmares beyond his control ensure that he can’t enter Blenheim Vale.
As far as Thursday’s considered, he gets shot and may die still thinking that Jakes is one of the traitors, that his weirdness around the evidence is a sign of dodginess, not because he was a victim.
But consider - way back after Home, the season finale for the first series of Endeavour, Russell Lewis received many well-deserved plaudits, but one of the ones that stuck out and was mentioned again and again in interviews was Lewis’ ability to hold back, to refrain from doing what another writer, the audience, or even the traditional narrative, might expect him to do. In that case, it was refraining from the traditional emotional speech between dying father and son, and just leaving the crucial moment with a shot of Shaun Evans fussing with his hands, confused and silent. It wasn’t as dramatic as you might expect, but it was all the more moving because of it.
And after some reflection and a lot of wailing, I think that’s what’s happened here. What the audience and Narrativa expects is that Jakes will have his moment of closure. If you look at the twitter timeline for Jakes during the finale, it was full of “go on, Little Pete!” “come on, Jakes, do it for Pete” and “A41” and so on. In my house, even up till the point that Angela appeared, people were convinced Jakes was the shooter. By all rights, Jakes should have seen the monster from his nightmares go down forever.
We, as an audience, expect that the one who has been wronged should have that moment of closure. What we’re used to from traditional drama practically demands it – character undergoes deep and terrible trauma, character comes back and faces the evil along with the Big Damn Hero, character has his moment and is Suddenly Magically Free to Move On, After a Few Thoughtful One-Liners, Cue Theme Music.
Russell Lewis avoided that. All we’re left with is a single, understated shot of a drunk Jakes in absolute torment (seriously, though, someone give Jack Laskey a BAFTA), smoking his characteristic cigarettes (but with a longer pull on the firey/ashy bit - I’m not a smoker so forgive the very technical terminology - does anyone know if that’s somehow symbolic? Maybe it shows that he’s almost as burned out as that cig?).
And that, again, is more realistic, more moving, and more hard-hitting a choice. Because in real life, nothing is quite that ordered or glib. People do not magically get closure by joining in a Good Guys Face the Oddly Talkative Villain moment. Often, victims of trauma will find it hard to even accept what happened - as millefleur12 pointed out in this amazing on-point meta here, this is literally the first time Jakes has even spoken out loud about his abuse. Or admitted it to himself. He’s been in a sort of denial. In many ways, his coping mechanism was similar to Angela’s, just to a lesser extent. Angela’s brain blocked out the fact that it ever happened, while Jakes’ decided to never ever dwell on it. When this support system fell away, the sudden overwhelming emotion was enough to drive her to suicide. From that viewpoint, as heartbreaking as it is to see him collapse so completely, it’s more believable that he needs time to even be able to get up from that table. This moment is overwhelming for him.
While we, as an audience, would have felt “~better~” (for lack of a more appropriate word) if he had joined Morse in facing down Deare, Russ Lewis has refrained from that trope, and it’s more thought-provoking drama as a result.
- Also. Plot wise. There has to be a reason for all the characters being where they are at that point in time.
- Deare is now dead.
- That means Morse’s main nemesis is going to be Chard and his merry band of shadowy Masons/I don’t even know what they are, powerful middle-aged men in suits.
- Chard does not know Jakes’ secret, and I doubt that Deare told him. There’s no-one left to ID Jakes as a Blenheim boy - faces change over time, and as was mentioned quite a lot, he was one of the youngest children there - as far as Chard is concerned, Jakes is “on his side.”
- Jakes, on the other hand, is very likely to know that Chard and Deare are/were working together, or to find this out at some point, whether from Chard himself, or from someone else. Perhaps he already was aware of Chard being “Deare’s man”, and still kept up the pally demeanour -either out of self-preservation or common sense. I think Lewis has set up the stage so that Jakes can now upset the apple-cart full of bad apples - while disguising himself as one.
Finally - a thought about Strange. I’m beginning to think that he’s already made his choice. He knew full well how Tommy Cork got into Blenheim Vale, he saw it. And yet, when talking to Bright, he deliberately frames it so that it looks like Tommy Cork could have just wandered there, that “he has no recollection of how he got there”. This allows them to get the child out of the Deare collective’s clutches, and back to his mother, where he’d be (relatively) safe(r). Maybe he spoke to Tommy in a hidden scene, before bringing him out to Bright, and told him to keep his powder dry? Or maybe did go to see Bright with the paper, and he’s in on it. It might be that Morse has a collective of people placed to help him, but each not knowing what the other is up to.
JAKES CAN TESTIFY THST MORSE WAS IN THE PUB WITH HIM WHEN THE DOC WAS BEING MURDERED THEREFORE GIVING HIM AN ALIBI!!!!!!
So can the rest of the pub and Strange when he decides which side he’s on.