Requiem Episode 1
In these days of boundless choice when it comes to entertainment, sometimes I find I don’t know what I want to watch next. From the latest cinematic offerings to the range of options with each streaming service: what is it that will really reward my attention? Realism or escapism? Drama or comedy? I’ve had a lacklustre January, entertainment-wise, moving from one thing to another and never really getting sucked in to a story. But then I watched the first episode of Requiem and realised that what I was after was a dose of old-school unashamed horror. A mixture of crime, the supernatural, and family drama, Requiem weaves together these elements extremely effectively. We follow the realisation of rising star cellist Matilda Gray that her mother was involved with the disappearance of a young girl from a town in Wales in the 1990s. Matilda, played by Lydia Wilson, decides to try being a detective, and drags along her literal accompanist Hal (Joel Fry) to the town. A lot of the early build-up hinges on finding Matilda interesting, and I suspect she might be a character that you either love or hate, but she really worked for me; she’s spiky, driven, given to one-night stands yet capable of deep affection for those close to her, private, obsessive, and a very good liar. In short, she’s got a real depth that Lydia Wilson brings out, as much in the way she tackles the silences as the conversation. It’s a great performance so far, helped along by an equally strong turn from Joanna Scanlan as her mother. Between the two of them, they established a sense of a deep mother/daughter bond that contained love, reliance, and exasperation. But enough of this emotional stuff: let’s get back to the horror. It’s all very recognisable but like all the best magic tricks, it really doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen them as long as they’re done really well. A spooky house, shattered mirrors, flickering lights, the glimpse of a figure in black in the corner of the screen: all of these are used with a series of sound effects that tie the mournful sound of the cello to whisperings and sudden cracks and bangs. There’s really nothing subtle about it in Requiem. It’s determined to put you on edge. I have to admit at points I did wonder if it was about to overdo it, but instead I found myself admiring it for deciding to go for it, no holds barred. So there are two winning elements to Requiem so far: the outright commitment to being a horror story in an old-fashioned sense, mingled with the personal journey of self-discovery we’re getting in a very interesting lead character. But what about the the detective story? But it’s great to be interested enough in a series to care about where it’s going to go, and I get the feeling there’s plenty of room in Requiem for me to be surprised without sacrificing that warm fuzzy feeling of nostalgia for the horror of the past that it so obviously draws upon. Bring on more of the old tricks of suspense and the supernatural. Bangs, slams, broken mirrors and creeping dread are a great choice for this long, cold January.
