We know he's a rebel because he wears a black leather jacket and rides a motorcycle. We know he's independent, because he always goes against his colleagues. We know he has a Christ complex because he always thinks he's the only one who can find the truth. We know he's tortured because he's always scowling, plus he's touchy and becomes angry at the drop of a hat. We know he's in his sexual prime because he frequently has casual sex, and even lies about it immediately afterward to the woman he claims to love. Despite the fact that he swims laps every day, his pasty body is doughy and flabby, unlike the majority of the women he sleeps with. As portrayed by the hydrocephalic and only occasionally intelligible John Hannah, we wonder what anyone sees in him, not only why he has any lovers, but why he has any friends the way he abuses them. All this negates the interestingly convoluted stories and fine performances by the supporting cast of characters: the tough chief, the young whippersnapper, the intellectual, the party dude, the past-his-prime colleague, etc. In addition to the aforementioned scowling, Hannah's acting consists of squinting and working his jaw and mouth to indicate his narcissistic inner turmoil. No wonder this series didn't last any longer than it did. Perhaps with a more sympathetic leading character, it could have had a longer run.
Review of McCallum
