When I was sick last week I had time to watch something great. The show I watched is called River, and was made for BBC One broadcast but is now streaming outside the UK on Netflix.
River runs for six one-hour episodes. I watched the first two because I couldn’t do anything else — being sick. Then I watched the next four because I couldn’t do anything else — being captivated by the show.
Without giving away too much of the plot, River is a police show, but the hook is that the central character is a detective who sees dead people. So it requires more than a normal suspension of disbelief. But in other ways, it might be the most realistic, and easiest to believe, show I’ve ever seen.
River stars Stellan Skarsgård, who is remarkable. So is the entire cast. So are the visuals — this was beautifully, and carefully, designed and shot. And the writing. What a show. I’ve been thinking about it since I finished it.
I’ve also been thinking about the story A River Runs Through It, by Norman Maclean. I recently gave my old copy to my son to read, because he has a friend from Missoula, Montana. But mostly because the title story has stuck with me in the decades since I first read it, and I thought he’d like it. He did.