Another
BBC drama series has recently ended. ‘What
Remains’, a slow moving yet haunting and atmospheric thriller set in a large
shared house, finished with a climax full of tension, surprises and not a
little blood. Revolving around the
mysterious death of a young, single women who occupied the top floor flat some
years earlier, the idea of what it meant to be alone dominated from the off.
How can it be that no one would report, or even seemingly notice, the absence
of a friendly, pleasant, ordinary young woman for all that time?
As
suspicion fell on the occupants of the other flats their stories emerged
too. A bachelor, nearing retirement from
his teaching career, anxious as to who might care for him in the future, jealous
of the stronger pull of ‘family’ even on those he had come to call ‘friends’. A young couple, expecting their first child,
wondering whether this new bond will bring them closer together or expose the
distance between them. A father and
son, struggling in the aftermath of the break-up of their family, feeling the
pain of guilt and anger and struggling to start again, increasing suspicious of
each other. A lesbian couple, one pathologically
obsessive and insecure, needing yet smothering the other who, in turn, is
vulnerable yet trapped. And then the detective,
Len, , recently retired but unable to shake off the routine and familiarity of
the workplace, drawn to this case, these people, as he continues to mourn his wife,
care for his dying brother and wonder what his future might look like.
I
won’t divulge any potential plot spoilers, aside from noting that, on
reflection, the brief introductions above may have been a tad over-sympathetic
and suggest a group of characters who, although flawed, you might actually want
to live with. If that’s the case I would
warn you not to rush off to the estate agency too quickly. However, it did strike me that all these
characters, whether living on their own or not, were profoundly isolated. For some their loneliness was obvious and
apparent, for others internalised and hidden, yet none the less painful for
that. The series was dark and brutal,
unsettling and disturbing, thankfully it was also pretty far removed from most
of our experience of life, and house-sharing, that’s why we can permit
ourselves the luxury of enjoying such stories as entertainment. At the end though, the very last words of the
concluding episode found a central character bleeding to death in a hallway as
the emergency service banged on the door.
As a comforting friend went to open the door they were pulled back, ‘Don’t
go ... I don’t want to be alone.’ As the
credits rolled I couldn’t help thinking that there was a sentiment that was very close to all our lives, and one that
we struggle with more often than we might admit even in our everyday relatively
drama-less experience.
