State of Mind

I watched this with my family and the quality strikes you from the first. It avoids the clichés of other TV dramas on the whole. The acting of Niamh Cusack and Dominic Mafham was truly believable. Hugh Mitchell as the son was just right. The overt plot was rather predictable. A question of whether to believe the story of a killer. Is he ill or is he a murderer? Of course, like all serious drama, this was just a vehicle for the real story of loss, betrayal and redemption. The harrowing scenes of betrayal are bound to strike a chord with any sensitive person. They are almost too unbearable to watch. Buy it. You won't be disappointed.

"I thought I'd be locked away in a padded cell and they'd throw away the key" (Thus is a paraphrased snatch of dialogue from "State of Mind".

One wonders in what tangled forest Paula Milne and her co-writer found the magic mushrooms they must have eaten, to create this feeble "whodunnit" and bring such rubbish to our screens. A padded cell should indeed be left available.

Niamh Cusack did her best, (as did the other actors) but surely her talent deserves a better vehicle than this. The height of absurdity has been reached, and this particular "State of Mind" is best buried and forgotten, and certainly not just "placed in a box and locked away in a drawer".

The outcome, unexpected. Good turn of events. Pretty well done.

Typical made-for-TV Thriller in the mode of "Cracker" but doesn't really deliver. The plot could have been told in a good episode of "The Bill". Niamh Cusack kept trying to be Amanda Burton in "Silent Witness" which was fairly irritating. Ending too predictable.

Whatever happened to British TV drama? From John Major through Tony Blair, the focus of the genre appears to have shifted from social realism to smugly normative women-focused tales about the piddling domestic problems of nice middle class professionals.

(Or perhaps TVNZ doesn't buy the good stuff? Please let that be what it is...)

The writer's long career in soaps probably explains why the dialogue is made up mostly of stale clichés. Niamh Cusack's performance is strong on meaningful looks, each held by the director for at least half a dozen beats longer than they deserve. Baleful looks, however, are a poor substitute for depth of character, if the writer has failed to provide such material for actors to work with.

Of course this is theoretically a thriller, about a murder investigation; but that's not as important as the central character's failing marriage and its attendant problems. Is Cusack's character's husband a complete bastard? Will her son be utterly traumatized by the marriage break up? Making these the central issues isn't a sign of insight -- it indicates a profoundly narcissistic identification by the writer and director with a character who should be getting on with her job.

Lynda La Plante knows how to write this stuff so that it feels as if it matters and involves viewers other than housebound neurotics ; evidently Paula Milne isn't up to the task.