Other Doctor Lives: Broadchurch: Series 3, Episode 4 (2017)

*Written in 2018*

I can’t quite tell how the investigation is going to go this season. There are red flags here and there that seem so blatant, it’s hard to believe they could just be red herrings, but I can’t see the show telegraphing the actual answers when they still have a ways to go. Then again, not all these red flags are coming from the same source, and obviously, not all of them will be the rapist. Is the moral of the story just that there’s a depressingly large number of terrible, creepy men out there, a fact that’s been hammered home innumerably in real life over the past few months?

The police department discovers a recently released sex offender whose M.O. seems to fit the details of Trish’s rape. Naturally, Hardy gets along with this guy like a house on fire, but he’s not the only creep Hardy and Ellie have their eye on—several guys act incredibly shady, and one in particular has his DNA show up somewhere he really doesn’t want it to. Over with the Latimers, Mark tries to figure out how to balance his need for greater resolution to Danny’s murder with his desire not to alienate his family.

In series 1, when Ellie and Hardy were investigating Danny’s death, there were lots of people interviewed by the police who did plenty of immoral and/or illegal things that were in no way murdering an 11-year-old. With the suspects our intrepid detectives are lining up here, though, I do wonder if the real intention is to show that, even though only one of them raped Trish, any of them very possibly could have done it under different circumstances. There’s so much gross, discomfiting behavior on display, and given that we see it also cropping up in a recurring plot that has nothing to do with the investigation itself (two teenage boys getting suspended for watching porn at school,) the show may be looking to speak less about this specific crime and more about the systemic sexism that leads to the society in which it happened. If that’s where we’re heading, I could get very excited about that.

Beth is involved in both the investigation story and the family story today. In the former, she’s mainly just along for the ride in those scenes, there to support Trish but mostly staying in the background. The exception is a really satisfying scene in which she dresses down one of Trish’s friends for trying to fish information from her; she doesn’t lose her temper, but she shuts the guy down in no uncertain terms and lets him know just how impossible it is for her to break Trish’s confidence. And as for the stuff with Mark, I’m not quite sure how it’s headed. It’s kind of interesting to see them on somewhat different sides of the issue than they were in previous seasons. There, Beth was the one who felt like Mark was moving forward and she was stuck, but now, she honors her memories of Danny by trying to be a positive force in the lives of hurting people, and she doesn’t see any merit in dredging up the pain and anger again.

*Written in 2025*

As far as Hardy is concerned, he’s pretty laser-focused on the investigation. When they return to the rental space where the attack happened, he’s quick to notice details that have changed since the last time he was there. And after Trish relives her trauma in a pretty harrowing way, Ellie admits, “I could barely handle that.” Hardy, however, is immediately preoccupied with the additional recollection Trish discovered through that experience. While everyone else is reeling with emotion, his mind is like a dog with a bone, and he asks, “What was that light [she saw], Miller?”

With the recently released sex offender, we see one of Hardy’s more unpleasant qualities on display: his occasional habit of throwing his weight around as a police officer. When the guy points out that he’s already served his sentence, Hardy is quick to counter, “No, you’re on parole, which means you’re still doing your time.” Later, when a younger officer questions why Hardy wants to have the guy surveilled, he replies, “Ehh, I don’t like him?”

Here in 2025, when the notion of who “deserves” due process is distressingly up in the air, this is troubling. It ultimately doesn’t matter if the guy is a creep, a convicted rapist, or (as he claims) someone who was falsely accused. He still shouldn’t have a police officer threatening him by holding his parole over his head, and, “I don’t like him,” shouldn’t be enough to devote police resources to tracking his movements. From a human rights perspective, it’s unsettling, and what’s more, it’s the shoddiness of the series 1 and 2 investigations cropping up again. Even if Hardy is sometimes flexible on whether “bad people” get due process (they do,) he should at least be wary of the fact that coloring outside the lines can damage a future court case.

Neurodivergent (Headcanon) Alley: Anthony Bridgerton (Bridgerton)

*Anthony-related spoilers*

Back when Bridgerton first came out, I liked the idea of a racially diverse Regency romance series but quickly lost interest when all the talk was about how “spicy” it was. When it comes to fiction, I’m not sex-repulsed, but my aroace butt has very little interest in that sort of thing, and I didn’t really see the appeal of the show when perfectly non-spicy Jane Austen adaptations were right there. But fast-forward to watching Wicked last November. As I sat in the theater, vibrating with excitement at all the amazing things happening onscreen, I could feel my platonic crush on Jonathan Bailey developing in real time. I knew vaguely that he was on Bridgerton, because I’d seen stuff come across my social media periodically and I recognized him from the excellent Twelfth Doctor story “Time Heist.” After I finished reeling from the wonder of “Defying Gravity” and “Popular” and “Dancing Through Life,” I found myself thinking, “Wait, do I need to watch Bridgerton for this dude?”

Fortunately, it turns out Bridgerton is fun and isn’t just wall-to-wall sex—there’s plenty of romance and yearning and sly humor in there too. I’m not a huge fan, but I do enjoy it, and when I say Anthony is my favorite Bridgerton, it’s only in part because of my bias. And while Anthony isn’t the only character on the show (or in the Bridgerton family!) who reads as neurodivergent to me, my bias is the reason I’m writing about him first. Let’s talk Anthony Bridgerton!

Look, when it comes to ND headcanons, you often hear people argue, “They’re not autistic, they’re traumatized!” It’s true that there’s a lot of overlap between PTSD and autistic traits, and it’s true that plenty of fictional characters—Anthony very definitely included—have all sorts of trauma. But if I may, why not both? So many autistic people in the real world have c-PTSD, so it stands to reason that some of the traumatized characters in fiction are also autistic.

The trauma that has shaped Anthony’s adult life happened when he saw his father die in front of him, very unexpectedly. His father died due to anaphylaxis from a bee sting, something they didn’t even know was possible. In an instant, bewildered and grieving, Anthony inherited his father’s title of viscount, and with it all the responsibilities that entails. His grieving mother was heavily pregnant with his seventh sibling, and when she went into labor shortly afterwards, complications arose. Anthony was told that, if the time came, it would be his duty to decide whether to save his mother or the baby. He experienced a whirlwind of heartbreak and terror in a very short time, and as he watched his mother lose herself within her own sorrow, he decided that he would never fall in love—he never wanted anyone else to experience that kind of pain because of him.

Naturally, being a character in a Regency romance who’s vowed never to fall in love is just asking for trouble, and it’s only a matter of time before Anthony meets Kate, the woman who completely spins him around. But before that happens, Anthony sees marriage purely as another one of his many duties. When he announces his intention to take a wife, what he’s really looking for is a suitable viscountess—and in marriage, as in most things, he sets out to do it as correct as possible. Anthony approaches most of his objectives with a “normal to want and possible to achieve” attitude. He’s going to win at managing his sister Daphne’s suitors in season 1, he’s going to win at croquet and charades, and he’s definitely going to win at marriage.

This manifests itself in strict attention to detail and exacting standards that can’t be deviated from under any circumstances. With Daphne, he at first chases away every potential suitor because he finds fault with all of them. And when Daphne points out that that’s the complete opposite of what they’re going for, his calculations change: he’d thought his duty was to find his sister the perfect husband, but above all, his duty is to actually find her a husband. So he swings to the other end of the pendulum and arranges an engagement with the first respectable gentleman he can get his hands on. Achievement unlocked, Best Viscount/Older Brother Ever? Not quite, because Daphne—understandably—wants a say in her own future and hates the notion of being traded away. In Anthony’s desperation to do right by his duty and his sister, he takes multiple big swings in the wrong directions, missing important considerations because he goes all in on what he thinks is the one correct way to do things.

Likewise, in his own search for a wife/viscountess, Anthony draws up a list of the qualities he needs, refuses to deviate from it, and systematically meets with young ladies one by one, inevitably taking note of how each one doesn’t measure up. And even though his title makes him the most eligible bachelor of the season, his forthrightness doesn’t win him any favors. When he sets his sights on Kate’s younger sister Edwina, the most “correct” choice, Anthony is (mostly) a dutiful and respectful gentleman. But he very specifically does not want to marry for love, and he can’t supply the sort flowery courting that Edwinda is hoping for. On the one occasion where he tries, showing up with one of Benedict’s poems and attempting to pass it off as his own, he abandons it halfway through to make this speech:

“I cannot do this. I cannot claim these words as my own—they are someone else’s entirely. Truth be told, I’m not a man of poetry. Words of flattery are beautiful and sweet, but they are also hollow unless accompanied by action. Miss Edwina, I could stand here and pretend to be someone I am not. I could pretend to want the very same things as you, but I would be lying. I may not be able to…offer the display of passion that you truly deserve. But I assure you that when it comes to action and duty, I shall never be found lacking. And I hope that is what will speak louder than any pretty words ever can.”

With Anthony’s strict adherence to duty and his insistence on the most correct way of doing things, falling in love with Kate throws him for a loop. Given his past trauma and his vow, falling in love with anyone would’ve been distressing for him, but the fact that it’s Kate in particular feels all wrong for him. Edwina is the plan, the goal. She’s the queen’s chosen “diamond of the season.” Kate is the spinster older sister, whose temperament seems ill-suited for a viscountess. What’s more, she loathes Anthony due to some frank remarks she heard him make about marriage, she’s doing her best to thwart his intentions toward Edwina, and she keeps showing him up when he’s trying to win. Kate is the opposite of the plan, and Anthony can’t deal with the fact that he’s falling for her. This makes him even more determined to keep his focus on Edwina, which winds up hurting all three of them.

In a very buttoned-up society that’s concerned about reputation, protocol, and propriety, you’d think Anthony’s fastidious nature would work to his advantage, but instead it makes him stand out. Other characters think he’s too intense, too much, and even young women who are vying for the viscount’s attention are put off by his unvarnished honesty. But personally, these traits endear Anthony to me so much. I’m glad that being with Kate makes him happy and helps him relax a little, but I like that loving her doesn’t turn him into a completely different person. He can be happy and more relaxed without losing the traits that are such a major part of him.

Joel Fry-days: Requiem: Episode 5 – “Bessie” (2018)

*Spoilers for episode 4, and one Hal-related spoiler for this episode*

*CW: suicide*

If you’ve read much of this blog, you know I love a good penultimate episode, and this is a good one! We’ve got creepy stuff, twists, and revelations, along with nice suspense. Best of all, it’s a fantastic episode for Joel Fry. Let’s get into it!

In episode 4, Matilda learned that Carys’s abduction may have been related to a ritual to summon otherworldly entities, referred to as angels by some and “the Thin Ones” by others. She also met a woman named Laura whose “auditory hallucinations” may in fact be messages from the Thin Ones. Now, she asks Laura to help her communicate with the creatures to find out what they know about Carys. This new information sends Matilda and Trudy on an excursion. Meanwhile, Hal goes on an excursion of his own, searching for leads on the man listed as Matilda’s father on her birth certificate.

Matilda is definitely continuing her pattern of investigating by any means necessary, regardless of the consequences for other people. She urges Laura not to take her antipsychotic meds so she’ll be to hear the Thin Ones, and then when Laura has a seizure, Matilda stops Nick from calling an ambulance while she records the words Laura is saying. And look, 1) she’s seriously going through it right now, 2) there is something creepy and supernatural happening, and 3) there are people involved in the conspiracy that are trying to stop her getting too close to the truth. All that is true. But it’s also true that she’s steamrolling over everyone with no consideration of how it might affect them. When Matilda pleads, “I didn’t mean Laura any harm,” another character calmly replies, “But still you’ve done her harm.” That basically sums up all of her actions with the village.

It’s another good episode for Trudy. She’s cute with Hal, she stands up for herself against numerous men in her life, and she helps out Matilda at a time when she’s also going through a lot of personal stuff herself. Shoutout to the actress, Sian Reese-Williams. I haven’t seen her in anything else, but she’s excellent here. I especially love her in a scene where she confronts her dad about something from their past that has just come to light. At one point, she cries, “I never thought we lied to each other. We fought, yeah, but we never lied!”, a terrific line that Trudy delivers just beautifully.

I have to side eye PC Graves here. Yes, dedicated police officer, good instincts, determined to get to the truth. But she spends like half a day tailing a couple suspicious characters, entirely of her own volition? Can a police officer just do that without any sort of approval process? Showing probable cause? Anything? She doesn’t even tell any other officers where she’s going! Sigh…copaganda, man.

But then there’s Hal. Oh my god, Hal! I’m going to get a bit spoilery here regarding his relationships, because I’m just so excited to talk about him in this episode and I don’t want to hold back too much. 

He starts off the episode doing something for himself—hanging out with Trudy talking music, both of them being sweet and flirty—then gets thrown for a major loop when Janice’s friend calls him to check that Matilda got the scan of her birth certificate, which the friend had emailed to her a couple days earlier. Unbeknownst to Hal, this was the moment that seemingly triggered Matilda’s blackout in episode 3. We know that she woke up the next morning with no memory of it, but to him, it looks like she got proof that she isn’t Carys, didn’t tell him about it, and carried on investigating anyway. He also discovers that she smashed her cello.

Put that on top of everything he’s dealt with so far, and Hal just hits his limit with Matilda. In an absolutely phenomenal scene, the two of them have it out. Hal confronts her about the birth certificate, and everything he’s held back or previously only said gently/carefully comes spilling out. He’s at the end of his rope here—for a guy who’s been almost inhumanly accommodating and allowed himself to be kind of a well-meaning doormat, this is a major change. For her part, Matilda feels cornered and super upset, and she lashes out in an extremely hurtful way.

It’s just so, so good. Joel Fry is incredible in this scene, which might be my favorite single bit of acting I’ve seen from him so far. Hal is angry, frustrated, hurt, and just overwhelmed—like, he simply doesn’t know what to do anymore. I could honestly shout out practically every line in it, but I’ll restrain myself to a few especially strong moments. This is a fantastic exchange:

HAL: “People are being hurt by us, by you. There’s a woman in hospital—” 

MATILDA: “That’s not my fault!” 

HAL: “Then whose fault is it, huh? I mean, bloody hell, we pushed a woman to suicide! Is it really worth that?”

I like that Hal is genuinely pushing Matilda. He points out earlier in the scene what’s been evident from the start of the story—that virtually everything he does is for her—but here, there’s no coddling or placating. At the same time, though, I like that he still includes himself in the culpability. Even if Matilda talked him into things he didn’t want to do, he doesn’t absolve himself for having done them. Hal has taken Rose’s attempted suicide very much to heart, and he acknowledges that he had a part in that.

Another moment I adore comes during Hal’s mini-speech about how everything he does is for Matilda. At the end of it is this strained, “...And you know….”, a not-quite-spoken admission that they both know he’s in love with her. Fry’s delivery just feels so bereft, and I’m obsessed with it.

And okay. I’m not a fan of Nice Guys, in fiction or in real life. At best, they annoy me, at worst, they fill me with rage. But, Joel Fry-bias aside, I don’t quite think that’s what’s going on here. We don’t really get any sense from Hal along the lines of, “I deserve to date you because of all I’ve done for you,” or, “Why am I doing all this for you if you’re never going to date me?” Instead, it’s more like, “You’re never going to date me, and I can make my peace with that, but you know perfectly well that you can get me to do whatever you want because I’m in love with you.” And again, he doesn’t deny that he’s still gone along with all this stuff, but it’s an acknowledgement of how Matilda has come to rely on his devotion to her and can take advantage of it.

Seriously, though, Hal isn’t even done. After Fry and Lydia Wilson serve up my pick for Best Scene of the Miniseries, Hal decides to conduct his own investigation. And even though they’ve just had this huge, emotional confrontation, he rolls up his sleeves, gets back to work, and ends up tracking down an important smoking gun for one crucial aspect of the mystery. And did I mention he listens to Billie Holliday in the car because Trudy told him it was her favorite? Aww!

One episode left! Can’t wait to see how it all shakes out!