Why I won’t be waiting for The Night Manager season 2
Did you see it? Will Sunday nights ever be the same? The last episode of John le Carré’s The Night Manager aired last night: thrilling, breathstealing, bum clenchingly tense and emotionally draining. But, I’m going to be everso controversial – don’t shoot me till I’ve explained – I don’t want them to make a season 2. Atleast, not for a long time.
No, I’ve not been at the Easter sherry, but like a great love affair, It should end on a high – and apparently 6 million of us tuned in last night, which is quite a high.
Who wants Angela from Bermondsley to become a teachers wife? What’s next for ‘Jedathan’? Not a life of the mundane with her horrible family sitch state-side surely. Olivia Coleman was, as always superb. She was my true hero in the show (there’s even a twitter campaign to see her as the next 007!). But Angela won her battle. Her energy, passion and commitment came from her doggedness to catch Hugh Laurie’s villain Dickie Roper. Her story has been told. I believed her. And I believed in her. Jonathan won the girl. Dickie gets covered in jam and eaten by ants (if he’s lucky). Maybe there would have been more mileage in a sequel if it had been closer to the book (Olivia’s character is discredited, Dickie gets away). Who knows?
Blame binge watching box sets and TV on demand if you like. I blame US writing teams, churning out episodes like sausages (nice sausages – don’t get me wrong). But I don’t want over saturation and indifference to set in like it has for me with Homeland: I’d have sold my cat for an episode of season 1, but by season 3, I was decidedly meh. I can’t see that locking le Carré in a dungeon so he can bash out season 2 by the Autumn will work here (he’s 84!).
Last night’s episode was the most perfect climax. As endings go it was elegant – elements that could be taken further, but with no questions left irritatingly unanswered (except perhaps where’s the 300 mil Hidders?). So there’s no reason Jonathan Pine needs to morph into some kind of generic secret agent. I’ve had my fill and fallen out of love with them (Jason Bourne, Carrie Matheson). Besides, with Tom Hiddleston tipped to be the next James Bond, there’s a chance we’ll get to see him outwit the baddies, smooch the ladies and drink vodka Martini yet (and *clue* yes he did order one at the Casino last night so that’s the job in the bag!).
We are lucky to have independent talented writers with style, who take the time to invest their heart and soul in their stories. That’s not something that should be hurried. While follow-ups have worked brilliantly (think This is England), its not because filming for the next starts before the end of the current. So that’s my compromise: I’ll let you make The Night Manager: The Return, but not for a few years please.
Until then, I leave you with this: