This review contains spoilers. Three fifths of the way through, it’s clear there’s no modern insight to be had here. SS-GB isn’t a complex investigation of political themes; it’s an old-fashioned spy romp down to the last hidden film reel, bombshell blonde and cyanide-laced cigarette. It’s unable to tell us anything about today’s world, or the 1970s world in which Deighton originally wrote it, because it exists in a bubble, less drama than antiques shop. Its makers have faithfully reconstructed the espionage noirs of old, without the addition of any revised attitudes or fresh takes. They’ve even left in dialogue so generically familiar it continually verges on parody. When Douglas was fondly reminiscing to Mrs Sheenan about ‘Snake Hips’ Johnson playing the Blues, I had to check I wasn’t watching a sketch from The Fast Show. The same goes for any of Archer’s pillow talk with Barbara, which clangs like a washing machine dropped down a flight of stairs. “You seem to be more interested in false bottoms than real ones,” she oozed. And you seem to be unembarrassed to say this stuff. There’s a reason for the stiffness and cliché—this isn’t just a 1940s-set pulp drama, it’s an homage to 1940s pulp drama, a museum exhibition created in its honour. Fans of the same can relax and enjoy the next two episodes, safe in the knowledge they’ll play out with no surprises. Douglas Archer isn’t the sort of period character able to transcend decades and become a hero for all ages; he’s rigidly of his time. The slick clothes, the cool demeanour, the serial seductions and dress-up doll women (one mumsy, one feisty and one glamorous)… even that underground tunnel umbrella stick fight scene. Archer’s a pulp noir cliché and as such, feels incapable of surprise. I’d have steered clear of that sandwich to boot. Read Louisa’s review of the previous episode here.