Tiffany Jenkins: Bridging TV boundaries

I can hum the theme tune to Murder She Wrote without a second thought. I know my Midsomer Murders from Silent Witness; what distinguishes CSI Miami from CSI New York. I could recognise Tony Hill from ITV’s Wire in the Blood, never mistake him for John Rebus; and as for that Detective Inspector, there is no doubt: Ken Stott nailed the character better than John Hannah. Name any television crime series and I can tell you whodunnit every time.

It’s not an interest that was, until recently, shared by my friends or family, so it came as a surprise when those who previously disparaged television thrillers (described as “morbid trash” by one), too became glued to The Bridge – the latest Scandinavian noir. And yet many, like me, are holding their breath in anticipation of the final two episodes which will air on BBC4 tomorrow evening.

It’s television to die for, literally. Ten episodes featuring the odd couple of Saga – a single-minded blonde, somewhere on the autistic spectrum, from Malmo in Sweden, and Martin – a chubby, bearded bloke from Copenhagen in Denmark, who can be too friendly. In spite of their differences, together they concentrate on tracking down a careful and calculating killer with a social conscience.

The Bridge of the title is the Oresund, which connects Sweden to Denmark, on which, slap-bang in the middle, is found a composite female body: the top half of a Swedish politician and the bottom from a Danish drug addict, highlighting differences between the two countries, and the disparities in the treatment of the powerful and wealthy with those of the poor and vulnerable.

The success of this show is far from a one-off. Televisual offerings from the Nordic countries have caught on like wildfire, sweeping across the globe. Sweden’s include three adaptations of Wallander – the crime novels of Henning Mankell, including one British remake with Kenneth Branagh. Denmark has bestowed a trio of The Killing; Those Who Kill (the clue to their subject matter is in their less than subtle title), as well as Borgen – a political drama about Danish coalition politics with a female prime minister who loses her family and closest friends, trying to hold on to power.

Sweden and Denmark are countries that have, comparatively, very low crime rates, but they are producing a high numbers of crime fiction book and TV writers, and have been doing so for a while. The Marxist journalists-turned-novelists, Maj Sjöwall and Per Wahlöö, are the originators of the modern Swedish crime genre. Between 1965 and 1975 they wrote ten crime novels featuring Inspector Martin Beck.

Thirty years later, Stieg Larsson, a left-wing Swedish journalist, crafted a major international hit with his trilogy: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played With Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest, featuring Lisbeth Salander, a feminist heroine – again, slightly autistic – taking revenge on the injustice and abuse of a male-dominated society.

When a trend like this goes global so quickly, is swiftly exported to Europe, and is seducing America, which remade The Killing, you have to ask why. In addition to the rocketing book sales and TV rights, Nordic noir has been the subject for comedy by French and Saunders, and Sarah Lund – the terse lead from The Killing – has a large following and is known for her Faroe Island knitwear. The furore even reached Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, when she was given her very own classic jumper by the star. You don’t have to be Hercule Poirot to know that there is there is something important happening.

The fashion for Scandinavian thrillers is tied to a renaissance in television. The new format of many episodes devoted to one story means writers can develop plots ideas and characters. The past ten years has seen the The Wire, The Sopranos, The West Wing and the dark brilliance of Breaking Bad. And while The Bridge may have “jumped the shark” – the plot is just too absurd – the quality of the filming is as good as any blockbuster from Hollywood. Even Ingmar Bergman would be impressed at the atmospheric, swirling shots of the Baltic Sea, lapping in a threatening way at the watersides.

Forget video games and the internet, the cultural buzz is about the old square box. Television is where great art that addresses social questions is being made. Scandinavia, clearly, can churn out high quality primetime programming which takes risks, looks beautifully bleak and talks up to the audience in a refreshing way.

But there is more to it than that. The clue is in the other distinctive characteristics. For a start, they are led by strong, independent women, a welcome change that feels more modern. These new characters: Salander, Saga, Lund and Birgitte Nyborg – from Borgen – don’t take no for an answer, pursue their work without a second thought, and are as socially inadequate and emotionally illiterate as the next guy. They are streets away from the sweet, grey-haired old lady, Miss Marple, or the glamorous Charlie’s Angels.

Most significantly, the novels and shows promote a grimy, dark realism and a concern for the development of society which suggests that the obsession with crime stories in Scandinavian countries is a product of an emerging loss of faith in the Nordic dream. Our thirst for The Bridge, The Killing and Borgen hints that the liberal paradise that was Scandinavia hides a nightmare.

Often the characters live in fabulous wooden houses with fantastic views through great big windows – the sort of thing a holiday brochure, normally, would feature. But these homes are painted in different shades of grey: cold, exposed and vulnerable. And there are as many grotty council estates in shot.

The contrast is chilling. Evil lies beneath, even in such a peaceful and just society. Their families are falling apart, and the less-well off are forgotten. The strength of the image of these countries as civilised, equal, democratic and pacifist cultures – with a relaxed attitude towards sex, gives its stories a shocking edge.

Tellingly, the run of Scandinavian crime dramas, historically a left-wing-dominated medium, points to the breaking up of the consensus politics, and it’s revealing that many – especially The Bridge – so forcefully combine problems affecting the two nations.

“We are not equal before the law – some get justice, some don’t”, are words that come from the killer, who – it would appear – is critical of the state of affairs, where the much-heralded social model has failed to live up to its promise. The deaths are carried out to highlight problems of inequality (the suffering of prostitutes and the homeless), reckless actions of corporations, and issues about immigration.

Indeed, Per Wahlöö claimed that the motive behind the Martin Beck series was to “use the crime novel as a scalpel cutting open the belly of the ideologically pauperised and morally debatable so-called welfare state of the bourgeois type”.

While crime stories have always had an element of social commentary, perhaps what we are seeing now is ideological debate, which used to take place in the political sphere, migrating to the domain of popular culture.

As the case closes this weekend, maybe we need to reflect on why we like seeing the gritty, grimy and hopeless underside of a set of Scandinavian countries previously lauded for their progressive outlook. It is just schadenfreude or are we in Britain measuring ourselves against their tarnished social idealism? Of course, it is important to question just how good it was, but we seem a little too eager to embrace the worst. Surely the crumbling of this noble social dream shouldn’t make such gripping television.

• Tiffany Jenkins is a sociologist working with the University of Gothenburg