PUBLISHED
June 08, 2025
KARACHI:
After a long wait, we have a cop thriller that will sweep you up in its twists and turns and keep you guessing about the suspect and criminal motive until the end. British crime TV is at its best in this new Netflix show starring Mathew Goode. You will be reminded that it has indeed been a long time since Line of Duty popped the reeling reveal of the identity of H, the elusive suspect of the series. Some are likening Dept Q to Broadchurch, a classic crime TV where two British detectives investigated the dramatic case of a missing boy in a coastal town. Basically, the new show created by Scott Frank (The Queen’s Gambit) and Chandni Lakhani will not disappoint. Based on a Danish novel by Jussi Adler-Olsen, the creator has set the show in Scotland instead of the original location but the feel of the series keeps true to Scandi noir.
The eponymous department is a cold-case division, newly thrown together in the dank basement of the Edinburgh police station. Detective Carl Morck has returned from Q hiatus after being shot at a crime scene he was investigating along with his partner James Hardy. Carl cares for no one and nothing now, it seems, but is nearly devoted to checking up on his friend James who is paralysed as result of the shooting.
A motley crew is thrown together for Carl to reluctantly work with, it includes a Syrian ex-cop immigrant Akram, Detective Constable Rose Dickson who has worked with Carl before, and lastly James who dives into the case files in his hospital bed. Akram digs up a file on a missing woman who was a successful prosecutor before she vanished from a boat four years ago. Her case is assumed a suicide but Akram notices it is riddled with inconsistencies. Soon you are strapped in for a ride as the ingredients that make up the case of Merrit Lingard fall open and the detectives start following its scent.
Dept Q throws many surprises along the way and is punctuated with several scenes that check the boxes of skilful acting, thoughtful camera work and deft directing.
Mathew Goode has shed the debonair looks of his notable roles to play Carl Morck. In Dept Q, his hair is not slicked back and he is not gliding in coat tails to woo a princess (Margaret in The Crown) or an aristocrat (Mary Crawley in Downton Abbey). As Carl Morck, he is gaunt, scruffy and searching for redemption. This is just what Goode and detective thriller addicts needed. Yes, he caught your eye being a suave and exciting eligible bachelor but as a bitter and alienated detective haunted by guilt and PTSD, he is magnetic.
Carl and partner James Hardy investigate a crime scene and its fallout is something Carl cannot reckon with. A terribly unpleasant person to begin with, cocky and disdainful, Carl is also grappling with guilt and failure. Like all stock detective characters, he resists going for his mandatory psychiatric sessions to work through his PTSD.
But viewers, and later Carl himself, will want to see more interaction with Dr Rachel Irving (Kelly Macdonald). Their verbal sparring is on point and she doesn’t miss a chance to call him out as he deflects and scoffs at her and what she represents.
The other woman in Carl’s work life is perhaps even more direct and brutal in her verbal expression. Chief supervisor Moira (Kate Dickie) creates Dept Q to kill two birds with one stone. She needs more funds to run the station and she wants Carl to keep working but out of her hair. The scenes of her exchanges with Carl are a treat each and every time. In fact, the seasoned acting, which is scarce to behold – on Netflix shows at least – enable the viewer to keep refocusing on the show just as she means to whip Carl into refocusing on his case.
There are a host of characters and suspects to consider in the case of Merrit’s disappearance. As the investigating team traces the steps of Merrit, they uncover insidious people around her that could be the unusual suspects behind her kidnapping or even murder. Merrit’s background, from her youth to the peak of her career, is painted as a story within a story. The execution is a triumph for the directors of the show. The numerous flashbacks do not erase your interest and the two story arcs are tightly interwoven. The kidnappers had devised a shocking plan for Merrit and a diabolical torture chamber.
The series boasts a strong Scottish cast with the likes of Dickie and Mark Bonner who plays Merrit’s dodgy boss as senior legal officer of the Scottish government. However, Alexej Manvelov who plays the role of Akram Salim holds as much onscreen presence with his gravitas. One looks forward to his scenes with Carl, who begrudgingly respects him as Akram’s credibility speaks for itself.
While Rose sort of brings heart to the team, being young and keen, she notices the good in her colleagues. She also is dealing with PTSD and simultaneously finding her ground as a detective. It’s possible, if the series continues, that we will be familiarised with her backstory.
The only “sweet” relationship is hers and James Hardy’s as she looks up to him as a mentor. Discreetly, James helps and encourages her. Played by Jamie Sives (you might recall him from GoT), although James is off the premises of the police station and bed bound, he is not at all forgotten in the nine part series. Although he works on the periphery for the team, in the closing scene, he has recovered enough to reach the office and join the department physically. The look on Carl’s face as he slowly turns to see his friend arriving is as satisfying as the show is from the get go. It indicates that much is yet left to be explored by these brilliant detectives. The team may well be banished in the old shower quarters of the police building, but their real work is to discover the world out there.
The gritty realism of Dept Q is matched by its aesthetic choices that elevate the show beyond the usual crime fare. The camera lingers deliberately on objects, on eyes, on small gestures that might otherwise be missed. Each visual clue feels loaded with meaning, even when the plot doesn’t rush to explain it. These details reward patient viewing, especially as the narrative slowly unfurls its deeper preoccupations: justice, guilt, and the unknowability of others.
The psychological depth of the show is perhaps most evident in the way it handles trauma. Everyone in Dept Q is carrying something. Carl’s PTSD is front and centre, but Rose’s anxiety and Akram’s cultural displacement are also subtly woven in. None of this is over-explained. Instead, the show allows these tensions to manifest in offhand remarks, in silence, in the ways the team members do or do not show up for each other.
Even Merrit herself, in the flashbacks, is revealed to have been haunted by earlier events. A past case she prosecuted, involving a serial offender who was released on appeal, emerges as a possible motive for revenge. As her timeline catches up to the moment of her disappearance, the tension is unbearable. The final two episodes, a crescendo of confrontation and resolution, are masterfully executed without leaning on melodrama. The reveal is chilling not just for who did it—but for how many knew and did nothing.
