If all you want is to see beautiful rural images of France, this is the show for you. But if you want a script that makes sense, then steer clear. The show has no idea of what it wants to be: sometimes it's a pastiche of noir film, sometimes it's a talky who-done-it, sometimes it's a romance, sometimes it's a spy thriller, but most of all, its parts are far less than any whole. Nothing works well, thanks to the hackneyed script. The dialogue is so trite it sounds as though it comes from a high school student told to read Dashiell Hammett and then give it a go. But it's no go. Worst of all, the ending is unpleasantly ridiculous, probably because given all the confusing plot threads and red herrings and weird turns, there was no way this could end well.
Finally, Clive Owen is a very good actor but clearly he was told here to pretend that every line he delivers must sound exactly like every other line. That's not the way it was played in the best noir movies of the past, when actors were allowed to act. Here it feels like Owen is in some kind of actor's prison, and if he raises an uncalled for eyebrow or flashes an occasional facial expression, he'd be shot by one of the many strange dark fellows who wonder in and out of this perhaps well-intentioned but total mess.
Finally, Clive Owen is a very good actor but clearly he was told here to pretend that every line he delivers must sound exactly like every other line. That's not the way it was played in the best noir movies of the past, when actors were allowed to act. Here it feels like Owen is in some kind of actor's prison, and if he raises an uncalled for eyebrow or flashes an occasional facial expression, he'd be shot by one of the many strange dark fellows who wonder in and out of this perhaps well-intentioned but total mess.