WHAT’S IT ABOUT?

Psychiatrist Susannah (Anne-Marie Duff) still hasn’t returned to work since the trauma of the death of her daughter, Christina. Her detective ex-husband Danny (James Nesbitt) is currently being detained in a mental facility after he killed the coroner who ruled that Christina’s death was suicide, when he was convinced she was murdered.

When a stranger, Jon (Dominic Cooper), turns up at Susannah’s door, saying he’s booked an appointment to help him give up smoking, she agrees to see him. While under hypnosis, he reveals that he’s killed young women – and is planning to kill again – that night.

When he comes to, he realises he’s said something he shouldn’t have and disappears before Susannah can get the police round. But when they don’t even seem the least bit interested in trying to save tonight’s mystery victim, she takes it upon herself to do their job; find Jon, work out who he’s trying to kill and stop him.

As she finds obstacle after obstacle thrown in her way, Susannah starts to wonder who is protecting Jon – and why – and whether there’s anyone she can trust in her quest.

WHAT’S IT LIKE?

As a basic premise, this has promise. In its high-concept structure, it has potential. But in its provenance, it lacks all hope – and it more than lives down to its provenance. How any commissioners decided to follow-up Suspect with a second season is a miracle – and how so many well-regarded stars of TV agreed to honour it with their presence is beyond comprehension.

Perhaps the only redeeming factor about Season 1 was that we could identify with James Nesbit’s police detective in his determination to find out the truth about his own daughter’s death – and indeed a police detective is, at least, the type of person who might have the right skill-set to achieve his aims. But this time, we don’t have either of those, as the motivation is more tenuous and the protagonist is about as well-prepared for the task ahead as a chocolate teapot; a psychiatrist is determined to uncover a conspiracy involving the police, lawyers, the medical profession and her own colleagues to protect a killer – who claimed under hypnosis – without any proof – that he would kill an undefined person at an undefined time and place. She’s not a law enforcer, she doesn’t know anyone involved. And she doesn’t have any particular skills other than the ability to ask someone how they feel about that. It’s much harder to care – or to believe that she would care – or to believe that any of these might happen in the first place.

Like its predecessor, its narrative structure is not without interest, as each episode is largely devoted to a one-to-one meeting – or confrontation – with a particular person she hopes might get her closer to the truth. Her verbal dance partners include a police officer (Vinette Robinson) who might know something – but has no inclination to help her because of a previous encounter between them; her ex-lover’s wife (Tamsin Grieg), who conveniently happens to be a senior lawyer; a doctor (Eddie Marsan) who might know something about a terrible accident that’s befallen her ex husband; and the young prostitute (Celine Buckens) she believes might be the next victim – although she doesn’t seem to be too interested in being helped.

But while the police can’t – or won’t – save the mystery woman, this psychiatrist, with no experience of the criminal justice system, uses only her powers of incisive questioning to open up her unwilling sparring partners to reveal the clues that help her continue her odyssey.

The problem is that almost without exception, every line of dialogue feels stunted, contrived or simply nonsensical (when someone tries to drug her, she announces “I don’t need those tablets – I’m a doctor” or when she feels that she’s being lured into an unsafe location with an unsavoury character, she announces “I’m sure your office is very nice – and I’m sure you are too – but I don’t have time.” And if this isn’t enough, the links from one episode to the next – how her discovery takes her from one lead to the next – are often illogical, non-sequiturs or incredibly convenient. And with a script this poor, there’s nothing any of these fine TV actors can do to lift it – the words they have to utter are like chains around their necks, as they’re flailing in the rapids.

Once bitten, twice shy this isn’t, as they boldly decided to have another go anyway. But to switch to another, comparable metaphor, the first bite from this cherry was disappointing enough and you know what they say about taking a second – it certainly shouldn’t have been possible, but with writing and performances as suspect at these, I suspect that Suspect is something they’ll regret having signed up to; the only person to come out of these with any sense of pride is James Nesbit – who doesn’t make a single appearance beyond the first episode’s pre-titles “previously” opening sequence.

And in one final act of monumental hubris, rather than tying up the loose ends and running away with their pay cheque, they leave open questions, as if they think they deserve a third bite of this cherry. I suspect logic might fail everyone again, though. Season 3, here we come…