The title doesn’t refer to a void into which detectives disappear, but to Harry Hole, the fictional Norwegian sleuth created by novelist Jo Nesbø. Netflix’s nine-part series is derived from his book The Devil’s Star, adapted by the author himself. Getting the casting of the tormented but insightful Hole right is crucial, and they’ve done themselves some favours here by picking Tobias Santelmann for the job.
Grizzled but capable of empathy, and ruggedly single-minded enough to ignore the threats and scepticism of senior officers, Hole is a classic bloody-minded loner, and Santelmann skilfully conveys his strengths as well as his vulnerabilities, which include a kind of morbid existential fatalism. Mind you, his decrepit Ford Escort affords him a modicum of retro-hip.
The show is characterised by some beautifully crafted cinematography, portraying sumptuously-composed vistas of Oslo at various times of day, but then offsetting them against shots of grimy tenements and garbage-strewn backstreets littered with junkies and rent boys. Hole’s criminal antagonist is a serial killer whose ghastly work exhibits various fetishistic flourishes, and some of the details of the various deaths are stomach-turningly gross.
The killer likes to leave a severed finger at each crime scene, along with a five-pointed red diamond which experts believe may have originated in Sierra Leone. This is mirrored in the pentagram symbol that’s also left as a calling card on each occasion. The perp shoots his victims in the head with a Ceska automatic pistol, of Czech origin, and he likes to prey on women.
As events unfold, further telltale patterns become apparent in the killer’s work, as Hole doggedly burrows into the innards of the case. Meanwhile we learn that his relentless devotion to his task at least partly stems from his guilt over the death of his ex crime-fighting partner, who was killed in a spectacular accident as Harry raced in pursuit of some villains but lost control and sent their car cartwheeling onto a railway track. The fact that Harry was a few drinks the worse for wear has only intensified his self-loathing.
Alongside a soundtrack which lobs in songs by The Ramones, The Doors, Sex Pistols, Warren Zevon, the Moody Blues and many more, Harry’s battle with the bottle is another recurring theme. It’s all or nothing for Harry, so after long periods of abstinence he’s liable to suddenly tumble violently off the wagon, sloshing back whisky or vodka with abandon until oblivion finally blots out the pain. The cruel murder of another of Harry’s police partners, Ellen Gjelten (Ingrid Bolsø Berdal), is enough to flip him over the edge. Staggering around in a booze-addled stupor doesn’t do a lot for his career prospects, and frankly he’d be long gone from any real-life police force.
Of course, the love of a good woman could be just what born-under-a-bad-sign Harry really needs. There’s an excellent candidate for a spot of emotional rescue in the shape of Rakel Fauke (Pia Tjelta, pictured above), who can discern some saving graces inside the haunted ‘tec even though he’s doing his best to drown them. He also strikes up a rather touching rapport with her young son Oleg (Maxime Baune Bochud), a sensitive kid who triggers a paternal instinct which the grizzled sleuth never realised he had.
Meanwhile, there’s something rotten in the Oslo police department, and it probably has something to do with Detective Tom Waaler (pictured above with Hole and Ford Escort). He's played by Joel Kinnaman in a bravura display of arrogance, ruthlessness and amoral self-aggrandisement (Kinnaman reckons Waaler is “a malignant narcissist”). Other characterful turns are provided by Kelly Gale as journalist Maya Ek, Ellen Helinder as forensics specialist Beate Lønn, and Simon J Berger as lowlife hustler Martin Aminov. Frank Kjosås is particularly odious as slithery, sexually ambivalent theatre director Willi Barli.
Throw in some diabolical plot twists that you couldn’t have seen coming, and it all makes for horribly addictive viewing. The icing on the cake is the way the bad guys suffer satisfyingly hideous come-uppances.
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