Ah, Dr Halifax, it’s good to have you back.
The first indication of the iconic character’s no-nonsense, straight-for-the-jugular bad-assery occurs in the first episode of the long-running series, all the way back in 1994. Rebecca Gibney’s forensic psychiatrist – or “psychological sleuth” – boulders up to a potentially dangerous man who’s been hanging around her and hollers: “Are you following me? ARE YOU?!”
Gibney gives those lines and many others like them a seismic intensity, for which words such as “empowered” and “assured” barely begin to cut it. Halifax is a classic character, with the steeliness of Dana Scully, the nous of Jessica Fletcher, the sangfroid of Jennifer Melfi, the drive of DCI Jane Tennison, the sexual vivacity (but not the wardrobe) of Phryne Fisher – and a certain Gibney-powered je ne sais quoi all her own.
Halifax f.p. was created by Roger Simpson and ran to 2002. It was a marquee title for the Nine network and a stomping ground for local talent. Well-known actors who appeared include Hugh Jackman, Hugo Weaving, Ben Mendelsohn, Guy Pearce, Radha Mitchell, Colin Friels, Jacqueline McKenzie, Robyn Nevin, Steve Bisley, Garry McDonald, Essie Davis, Richard Roxburgh, Asher Keddie and Marta Dusseldorp.
They mostly appeared only once, each episode being feature length and self-contained.
I’m fond of the movie-length TV format as it provides plenty of time to delve into the narrative world while also delivering the pleasures of a serial, returning us to characters (well, one, in this instance), situations and an atmosphere we are familiar with. This structure also helped develop Halifax as a fiercely independent character. Nine made it a requirement that it could screen the episodes in any order it liked, meaning she couldn’t have relationships that spanned more than a single instalment.
I was disappointed, then, that the belated new series Halifax: Retribution – based 20 years after the last telemovie, with Halifax in her 50s – abandons such a successful and satisfying format, opting instead for the conventional 48-minute (ie a TV hour) format, and running a continuous storyline across eight episodes.
Simpson is back on board however, as co-writer, co-producer and co-executive producer. And of course so is Gibney, whose presence is so key to this series she is in effect a co-author.
The first episode begins with literal fireworks, explosions of light and colour popping and sparkling in a Melbourne skyline before a man on a boat is shot dead with a long-range rifle by an unseen killer. This is a sniper attack intro that instead of exhibiting the chilling qualities of a prolonged single sniper sequence – like the opening scene of the feature film Jack Reacher – turns it into a montage. A sniper is terrorising Melbourne, killing periodically and apparently randomly.
Anthony LaPaglia is inspector Tom Saracen, who is leading the case and joins a long line of male Australian actors playing testosterone-charged cops who are second fiddle in every way to Gibney and are routinely put in their place. Halifax has been romantically entangled with some (including Roxburgh and Jackman, both reduced to lovesick puppy dogs) but her history with Saracen is different: he once publicly criticised the psychiatry profession and she never forgot it.
Halifax stopped working with the police a long time ago, settling into a quieter existence with partner Ben (Craig Hall) and his 23-year-old daughter Zoe (Mavournee Hazel). But you just know she’s going to be drawn to the case like a magnet. Addressing the investigators, she uses the opportunity to both present a psychological assessment and belittle Saracen, turning to him as she describes the killer as somebody who “seems intent to terrorise the city and to taunt you with your impotence”.
Ah, Dr Halifax, did I mention how good it is to have you back?
I was expecting – and kind of dreading – the inevitable moment when the script (written by Simpson, Jane Allen, Stuart Page, Peter Gawler and Chris Corbett) delivers a “this time it’s personal” twist connecting the protagonist with the investigation. This appears to arrive early in the form of a note cautioning Halifax that a “a terrible retribution is at hand”. Or is the note unrelated?
Halifax f.p. episodes often presented dual plot lines, with a gnarly central crime mystery and a more personal one, sometimes related and sometimes not. In 1996’s Cradle and All, for instance, the sleuth investigates a case involving infanticide, and grapples with the mystery of why somebody deliberately ran her mother (Robyn Nevin) off the road.
Retribution has Halifax revisiting previous cases, contemplating the potential return of old enemies – a clever touch which taps into nostalgia in narratively justified ways.
This involves some returning characters (again breaking the previous format) such as those played by McKenzie and John Waters. The first two episodes, which were directed by Mark Joffe and Fiona Banks and sadly form the extent of this review (making it impossible to critique as a complete experience) are tight – there’s no time to be bored.
But the show’s visual palette is mostly flavourless and has an erratic quality, jumping around with little sense of an overarching style. And the soundscape, while incorporating an enigmatic score by Cezary Skubiszewski, sometimes inserts tonally clashing songs with lyrics that don’t make sense in context, such as (in a pivotal scene in episode two) Oh Pep! – Hurt Nobody. It cheapens the mood and distracts from the pacy writing and direction.
All eyes are on Gibney, of course, who is a force of nature as always. The veteran never disappeared from our screens but after the adrenaline-charged Wanted series, and with Lowdown Dirty Criminals on now, and Back to the Rafters not far away, this feels like it might be the beginning of a fully fledged Gibneyaissance. And speaking on behalf of the Australian population, we are very much OK with that.