TV Review: London's finest are back in order.

Law & Order: UK. Series 5 Episode 1, "The Wrong Man". Teleplay by Debbie O'Malley, from "Prescription for Death" by David Black & Ed Zuckerman. Directed by Marisol Adler. Starring Bradley Walsh, Jamie Bamber, Harriet Walter, Dominic Rowan, Freema Agyeman, Peter Davison. Aired on ITV1, 10th July 2011, 9pm.

It's not really fair to call "Law & Order: UK" a 'spinoff' from the American "Law & Order", considering that all the scripts are reworked from those written for the original show. It has more the feel of a 'remake'. Yet writer Debbie O'Malley manages to turn "Prescription for Death", the very first episode broadcasted on NBC all those years ago on 13th September 1990, into a story that's highly relevant to 2010s Britain, taking in hospital jargon, NHS bureaucracy and good old mistaken identity.

Marisol Adler, having worked on the original show as a director on the later seasons, has the franchise's trademark shaky camerawork down pat - and it shows. This series five opener begins with a chaotic tracking shot of hospital beds crashing through the double doors at Accident & Emergency, in a fashion as reminiscent of Dick Wolf's brainchild as of that other NBC long-runner, "ER". We soon focus in on a lone case, Suzanne Morton, who is quickly dispatched and declared dead in the typical "Law & Order" way, even though her dad protests she was only admitted with a sore throat. The concerns of a nurse over the alarming rate of suspicious deaths at this particular ward prompt her to consult DI Natalie Chandler (Harriet Walter), who in turn calls on DS Ronnie Brooks (Bradley Walsh) and DS Matt Devlin (Jamie Bamber) to investigate. Medical malpractice, a doctor drunk on the job and incompetent interns are soon uncovered.

I criticised the first series of "Law & Order: UK" for its terribly treacly pacing, and I'm pleased to say this edition is much slicker, better capturing the sense of grittiness that seemed lost from the Manhattan show in the first few British translations. Bamber and Walsh's repartee is a treat as ever, in the tradition of great detective pairings like Briscoe and Logan, while Walter is a comfortable centre of gravity, nicely holding the proceedings together; Freema Agyeman is capable but not given an awful lot to do - her character could be a little more forthright and opinionated as we've seen on previous occasions but not such that it drags the show down into heavy moralising. London locations are used well, without having to resort to the seemingly irrelevant practice on "Law & Order: LA" of naming entire episodes after locales or neighbourhoods: a chase scene through the concourse of St. Pancras International rail station is a standout moment.

As with any "Law & Order" show, we should expect a 'revolving door' of cast changes - on the mothership, police and prosecutors changed hands with alarming efficiency - and so it is with the British incarnation, which sees its first batch of replacements this season. I'm not really sure what to make of Peter Davison as Henry Sharpe at this point. He seems avuncular enough as befits a CPS director presiding over his underlings' prosecutions - even a little witty - but of course the same could be said of his predecessor, Bill Paterson, or Steven Hill on the original. But I do prefer Dominic Rowan over Ben Daniels. While Daniels frequently recalled the on-edge, maverick and emotionally-involved Jack McCoy (and seemed as though he was trying too hard to imitate Sam Waterston with his melodrama), Rowan more closely resembles the practical Ben Stone (Michael Moriarty) in his prosecutorial methods, interrogating Dr. Edward Auster (James Fox) on the stand with calculating precision and coolness. I'd like him to have more of Stone's authoritative presence in the courtroom and combine that with some of the rogueish intensity Linus Roache had as Michael Cutter.

This is indeed a significant improvement on previous outings of "Law & Order: UK", and I'm looking forward to see how the show develops with the new regulars to contend with. Now, if only the producers could really realise its potential by offering us completely new stories instead of relying on old American scripts, no matter how well re-interpreted they are.

Rating: ****/5

Theatre Review: A play worth killing for.

Deathtrap. By Ira Levin. At the Noel Coward Theatre, London. Directed by Matthew Warchus. With Simon Russell Beale, Jonathan Groff, Claire Skinner. As seen on 15th January 2011.

Ira Levin is probably best known for his thrillers "The Boys from Brazil" and "The Stepford Wives", but as Matthew Warchus' revival proves, his stage play "Deathtrap" deserves greater recognition as a darkly comic classic of the genre.

Sidney Bruhl (Russell Beale) is an ageing playwright with a string of hits to his name, but whose best years have passed him by. After he gives a lecture at a university, he is contacted by one of the students, thriller obsessive Clifford Anderson (Groff), but inviting the aspiring writer to his home to help with his new play - entitled "Deathtrap", no less - could prove to be his undoing. Wife Myra (Skinner) is driven to near hysterics by her suspicion that her husband intends to kill off his talented protege and take the credit for what could be the next stage sensation, and a clairvoyant's (Jane Lambert) ominous appearance only serves to heighten her anxiety that there are evil forces at work. As murder and mayhem descend on the Bruhl residence, a deadly game of cat and mouse ensues between Sidney and Anderson, with the young writer determined to write for himself the perfect denouement to the perfect crime, exactly as he planned...

Levin's script is gleefully Hitchcockian, sending the audience reeling with laughter and gasping with fright in equal proportions, and it is well served by an ensemble cast who clearly look as though they're enjoying themselves, despite their shortcomings. Simon Russell Beale is intensely compelling in his portrait of a man eaten up with jealousy and self-loathing; Jonathan Groff, making his West End debut, excels as Anderson, his character's ruthless ambition lurking behind his natural, twinkly-eyed charisma. While Claire Skinner's American accent leaves something to be desired, she capably pulls off Myra's histrionics, though this gives her little chance to show her real versatility as an actress. Terry Beaver pulls in a fine performance as Sidney's lawyer, Porter Milgrim, but is underutilised; Jane Lambert as clairvoyant Helga ten Dorp suffers from the opposite problem.

"Deathtrap" works on several levels: as a metafictional feast for thriller fans with tongue placed firmly in cheek (nodding to other writers in the canon, such as Frederick Knott, and mischievously messing with genre conventions); as a comment on the cynicism of luckless writers; as a wickedly black comedy. But most of all, it's terrific fun from start to finish; it's a shame the play did not stay for much longer. The West End needs more than its fair share of classy murder stories to kill for these days.

Rating: **** 1/2 out of 5

Age recommendation: 12+, some violence, sex references.

Theatre Review: An early Miller masterpiece makes a welcome return.

All My Sons. By Arthur Miller. At the Apollo Theatre, London. With David Suchet and Zoe Wanamaker. Booking until 2 October 2010.

"All My Sons" may not be traditionally the most well-known of Arthur Miller's plays, but this terrific revival proves why it was the piece that made his name in 1947.

A stormy overture sets an ominous tone for this mid-20th-century morality tale. Joe Keller (David Suchet) is a successful air parts manufacturer, who is living with his wife and one of his sons - we learn that the other, an air serviceman, is still missing in action after the upheaval of the Second World War. His business partner has been imprisoned for allegedly supplying faulty machinery that caused the deaths of several pilots in the war, and when his suspicious family come to Keller for answers, the man is forced to account for his own part in the decision to place material gain over social responsibility.

The first act may be necessary to introduce the neighbourhood's complex relations, as well as to contrast the trivial domestic trifles with the more destructive events to come, but it is a very slow burner. When the plot finally accelerates towards the middle of the second half, it explodes with the inevitability of a Shakespearean tragedy. Director Howard Davies, who oversaw the last major production, expertly piles on the tension again here and coaxes some superb performances. Zoe Wanamaker may be more adept at stricken mothers in serious drama than TV comedy, so convincing is her Kate Keller, who is unwavering in her belief that her vanished son is still alive; Wanamaker generates the right amount of pathos as she becomes entangled in her husband's web of betrayal and deceit. As the surviving son, Chris, Stephen Campbell Moore contributes an equally heavyweight turn in the difficult role of the moral centre of the play, modulating from angered to anguished as he comes to question his father's decency. Naturalistic set and lighting designs add gritty realism to an already volatile atmosphere of blame and guilt, which pervades right up until the devastating climax. The final revelations provide the proof that this early masterpiece from a great American dramatist should be counted among his best work.

Verdict: **** 1/2 out of 5

Film Review: A blockbuster with brains.

Inception. Directed by Christopher Nolan. With Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ken Watanabe, Ellen Page, Tom Hardy, Marion Cotillard, et al. Legendary Pictures, 2010. On general release. Certificate 12A (moderate violence).

Ever since he shot to fame with his reverse-chronological psychological thriller, 'Memento,' back in 2000, director Christopher Nolan's star has continued to rise. He has garnered both critical and commercial success with 'Insomnia,' a remake of a Norwegian suspense film which relocates the action to the frozen wastes of Alaska, and 'Batman Begins,' a dark reboot of the DC Comics franchise, along with the latter's sequel, 'The Dark Knight.'

Audiences should be waiting excitedly for Nolan's next Batman installment, scheduled for release in 2012. And with very good reason, judging by his latest picture, 'Inception,' which is perhaps the Brit's most ambitious project to date. Leonardo DiCaprio stars as Cobb, a master thief who uses the power of dreams to invade his marks' subconscious and steal information their conscious selves would normally prevent from disclosing. In one last mission, he is hired by a Japanese businessman, Saito (Ken Watanabe), to convince the son of a wealthy oil baron and Saito's corporate rival to break up his father's empire. It's an original premise, but as anyone who has seen the clunky Michael Jackson 'musical' "Thriller - Live" in the West End can tell you, a good idea badly executed sounds like a bad idea.

Fortunately, Nolan manages to assemble a believable cast around DiCaprio. Ellen Page in particular excels as the inexperienced but impassioned rookie in the gang, delivering an impressive turn when she confronts Cobb about the skeletons in his closet, which threaten to derail the entire operation. The dream sequences are visually striking, filled with projections (images of the subconscious), Penrose stairs and dizzying mirrors; at one point characters engage in a 360-degree tussle in an imaginary hotel corridor. But what really makes this film a winner is the plot: absorbing and genuinely suspenseful, it convinces as an update on the heist thriller, but its true power lies in the way Nolan exploits the most primal of human abilities - the capacity to dream - for subversive intentions. The ambiguous end may be a logical leap too far, but nevertheless the director's vision of a morally-fractured, heightened sense of reality within what is ostensibly an imagined world is so fully realised in this film, you may be hard-pressed to find another blockbuster this summer as rich, pacey and imaginative as this one.

Verdict: *****/5

Theatre Review: What a triumphant night!

Jersey Boys: the Story of Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons. At the Toronto Centre for the Arts. Viewed on 14th July 2010. Running until 22nd August 2010.

The Toronto iteration of the global musical phenomenon, "Jersey Boys," became the longest-running show to play at its venue on 30th April, entertained its millionth customer less than a month later, and will have played to packed houses for more than two years by the end of its Canadian season. And little wonder.

Not only does the iconic music of Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons translate extremely well to the stage, the musical's writers were ingenious enough to combine an enlightening Hollywood biopic, as narrated by the Seasons themselves, with spiffed-up theatrical replays of their back catalogue. The potted history of the band may have been simplified somewhat to make room for the Broadway numbers - two groups of characters represent an ever-revolving cast of artists - but the result is still a sophisticated, modern drama. The script modulates perfectly from zestful wit to dark seriousness, humanely addressing some of the more unglamorous aspects of the Seasons' lives, such as Frankie Valli's troubled family relationship and the band members' dropout lifestyles before they hit the big time.

The Four Seasons convince in their roles, having all honed that New Jersey drawl: Quinn VanAntwerp injects passion into a Bob Gaudio determined to champion songwriting as an art and not commercial business, refusing to cave into the interests of producers unwilling to pick up his next composition. (In a stark irony, the piece would become the runaway success and much-covered "Can't Take My Eyes Off You.") The resemblance between Jeff Madden's falsetto and Valli's own is chilling. But the real stars of the show are the songs, which are exhilaratingly performed. Classic hits, such as "Sherry," "Big Girls Don't Cry" and of course, "December 1963 (Oh, What A Night)," are consciously designed to recreate the live Seasons concert experience, complete with horn section at one point, to stunning effect. There are some neat stylistic touches too: when the band makes their TV debut, a screen broadcasts the images shot in real time on the stage in faux black-and-white, seemingly in nostalgia for an era when MTV videos were yet to choke our living-room sets.

Television and music may have moved on since that first appearance, but the sounds of Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons continue to endure beyond the transience of modern pop, symbolising an age when your integrity to songmaking was all that counted. The winning ensemble of "Jersey Boys" prove the group's timeless appeal; you will probably leave the theatre with a Sixties swing in your step.

Rating: *****/5

Age Recommendation: 15+ for moderately frequent strong language.

Film Review: Clint Eastwood's urban drama is a provocative film, but no grand masterpiece.

Gran Torino. Directed by Clint Eastwood, 2008. Out now on DVD.

Clint Eastwood, one of the great Hollywood legends of the late twentieth century, is comfortably maturing into his new role behind the camera, having been involved with a string of successful pictures including "Million Dollar Baby" and his twin WWII films, "Flags of Our Fathers" and "Letters of Iwo Jima." His directorial follow-up to "Changeling," the 1930s mystery drama starring Angelina Jolie, shares some of the noirish tones of that film, but couldn't be more different.

Even at the grand old age of seventy-eight at the time of this film's release, Eastwood proves there's mettle in his acting boots yet. He takes star billing in this contemporary urban tale as Walt, a cantankerous and bigoted Korean War veteran overcoming the loss of his cherished wife, which leads him to retreat further still from the family he's already isolated himself from. After his treasured 1970s Gran Torino car is the unwilling participant in a foiled carjacking, however, he soon comes to befriend the somewhat idiotic teenager responsible, Hmong neighbour Thao, who tried to steal the vehicle in an attempt to ally himself with his cousin and his fellow gangbangers. Thao and his college student sister Sue introduce Walt to his family, and gradually Walt learns of their plight at the hands of the gangbangers, culminating in a vow of revenge.

The supporting cast are well balanced and the film portrays the Hmongs largely sympathetically, but the picture belongs to Eastwood. In his last main acting role, he gives a sterling performance, skilfully revealing a witty and warmer side to the initially unagreeable Walt as he tries to provide the role model for Thao that he never gave to his own sons. However, it is in these portions that the film sags, following the pair of them as the younger begins to integrate himself positively into wider society, and the script loses momentum as a result. When conflict eventually does return, there is no denying the film's power as it races towards an emotionally-charged finale. It may fall a little short of the masterpiece that is "Million Dollar Baby," but "Gran Torino" manages to score an equally provocative note in its final moments.

My verdict: ****/5
Certificate: 15

TV Review: UK entry for Eurovision 2010 didn't sound good to me, unfortunately...

The 55th Eurovision Song Contest. Aired 29th May 2010, BBC One, 8pm.

Despite all the fanfare, the promotion, and not least the songwriting credentials of two-thirds of the legendary Stock, Aitken & Waterman, the United Kingdom's entry for the fifty-fifth Eurovision Song Contest, "That Sounds Good to Me," scored disastrously in the competition's results, receiving only 10 points. This pales in comparison to the winners, Germany, who ran away with this year's victory with 246 points.

Pete Waterman, a former judge on the UK's "Pop Idol," was responsible for such hits during the 1980s as Kylie Minogue's "I Should Be So Lucky" and Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up." And therein lies part of the problem. The singer, Josh Dubovie, clearly has masses of vocal potential and his enthusiasm for the stage is evident, but the song itself seems rather dated next to the sophistication of Ireland's ballad or the sheer brilliance of Turkey's very contemporary contribution, which even won over the author of this blog, despite not having any pretensions himself to enjoying hardcore rock music on a regular basis.

Which brings me to where, I think, the other part of the blame can be apportioned. Those behind the British production brought little creativity to their segment of the proceedings. Maybe this was due to a lack of funding: surely Arlene Phillips, were she on the creative team, could have treated us to a more energetic choreographic display? Or more simply, this points to a dearth of imagination among British production talent nowadays. Either way, the consequences were dire for our musical reputation.

Fundamentally, all of those involved (except Mr. Dubovie, who made the best of a bad deal) seemed to underestimate the standard of this year's competition, to our detriment. Admittedly, this year's winning performance was mediocre, and only a slight improvement on the ear-splitting singing (read shouting) of Alexander Rybak. But there were plenty of memorable, creative masterstrokes too: duelling Plexiglas pianoes; dancing motorcylists; flashy violinists - among others. And that is where the UK failed. It failed, simply, to put on a good show.

Even if the tabloids do end up slating Mr. Dubovie tomorrow for the outcome at Oslo, at least he can rest assured that he did the best he could, and the experience will stand him in good stead for the many performances he is likely to have throughout what I am sure will be his lengthy stage career. Plus, of all people, he managed to land the highly-respected Mr. Waterman as his Eurovision colleague. But sadly, this is probably little consolation for Britain ending up in last place in the Eurovision leaderboard for the third time in seven years.

Many commiserations to Mr. Dubovie from the author. And there is always next year: it can only be upwards from here on!