Peter Capaldi’s Performance Makes Apple TV+’s Criminal Record More Arresting Than It Has Any Right to Be

Crime dramas are a dime a dozen these days. There are cozy mysteries that involve people with unexpected professions—a vicar! a public relations pro! a restaurant owner!—who team up with local detectives to solve crimes. There are long-running procedural series set in small English villages that boast the kind of inexplicably high body counts that make you wonder why all their residents don’t just move somewhere else. Cold case dramas and legal thrillers explore justice both deferred and delivered, and true crime stories delve into the darker and more disturbing aspects of human nature. And whodunnits ask us to play detective ourselves.

But part of the reason that Apple TV+’s new crime drama Criminal Record is so interesting is that it doesn’t fit neatly into any of those boxes. A series that blends many elements from across the crime genre, it attempts to wrestle with big institutional questions of legacy and change even as it delves into the story of a cold case in which the wrong man might have been convicted. Bolstered by a stellar cast and featuring a complicated narrative full of morally gray characters, it’s a drama that delights in playing with viewer expectations: about what kind of story we’re watching, which characters are good people, and who we trust to tell us the truth. 

When an anonymous domestic violence call to emergency services appears to have some uncomfortable connections to a murder committed a decade earlier, it catches the attention of DS June Lenker (Cush Jumbo), who becomes curious about the man, Errol Mathis (Tom Moutchi), who was convicted of the crime. Determined to find out more, she seeks out the detective who worked the case, DCI Daniel Hegarty (Peter Capaldi), a decorated, well-connected officer who clearly resents the implication that his arrest—and the subsequent conviction of the suspect—was in any way wrong. He also seems to dislike the fact that June is young, ambitious, and went around her boss’s mandate to send an email about the subject in order to question Hegarrty in person.

Their initial meeting doesn’t particularly go well—Hegarty condescends to June, who finds some of his more off-color commentary about Errol to be borderline racist. The two snipe back and forth about whether or not one anonymous caller is reason enough to reopen an investigation that’s been considered closed for so long, but Hagerty ultimately dismisses her concerns after it becomes clear that he knows she came to see him on false pretenses (and against an order). His disinterest in her findings pushes June to keep digging further into the Mathis case, a choice that repeatedly brings her into Hegarty’s orbit and keeps the two at odds with one another, even as they’re both paired on a present-day investigation involving a young boy shot at a local park. 

What follows is a ridiculously tense back-and-forth that’s one part investigation, one part social commentary, and one part morality play. The cold case itself, the murder of a woman named Adelaide Burrowes, isn’t particularly complicated or groundbreaking, but the story around it is packed with surprising twists, from choices that reveal unexpected layers of characters we thought we understood to new information that challenges our assumptions about the investigation we’re watching onscreen. Though much of the conflict between Hegarty and June is correctly framed as a sort of generational divide—an ambitious young woman shaking up the system of favors, informants, and cover-ups that men like Hegarty helped to create and still profit from—it’s made increasingly complicated by the fact that both characters are so fallible and flawed in their own ways. 

The drama’s other subplots, which involve Errol’s son Patrick (Rasaq Kukoyi), who’s trying to find a way to make a life for himself in the shadow of his father’s crime, Hagerty’s attempt to parent a troubled daughter, and June’s mentally declining mother Maureen (Zoe Wanamaker) are not nearly as interesting as the show wants to believe they are. And they’re all essentially overshadowed by the complicated back and forth between Hegarty and Lenker, which at times feels adversarial, at other times almost respectful—even mentor-ish. Jumbo and Capaldi crackle together as their respective characters go toe to toe in ways that challenge each of them. How far is Hegarty willing to go to protect his legacy? What is June willing to sacrifice to find out the truth? And how many rules are they both willing to bend or even break in the process? 

Jumbo is a force throughout, as June pushes her way past boundaries, rules, and occasionally common sense in the name of finding answers to questions no one else seems willing to ask. Brave, reckless, tenacious, and paranoid by turns, she’s a character that contains multitudes, from righteous fury to deep, very human pettiness. (Her growing insistence that Hegarty is at the center of everything going wrong in her life makes for several great, and occasionally deeply uncomfortable scenes.) Criminal Record is at its most interesting when it explores the ways various facets of her identity—as a police officer, a mother, and a Black woman—can conflict with one another, and the struggles inherent in trying to adapt old systems to new ways of thinking. 

But it is Capaldi who quietly steals much of the show. His wonderfully expressive face contains multitudes in every scene, and Criminal Record deploys his gruff, standoffish vibes to their full effect. One of the most complicated questions the series raises is how we’re meant to feel about his character, a man who is capable of surprising kindnesses and uncomfortable, occasionally dark compromises. The product of a very different time in the world of policing and with very specific ideas about what officers are meant to be and do, Hegarty’s attitude can feel dinosaur-ish amidst the more modern, diverse police force of today. He’s openly resentful of some of the recent changes in the name of increased diversity and inclusion. And he’s obviously someone willing to do whatever it takes—even and perhaps especially if it requires coloring outside the proverbial lines—to close his cases. 

It’s clear he’s keeping secrets, and the show is predictably glacial when it comes to parceling out what those particular dark corners of his life are. But Criminal Record also refuses to make Hegarty an overt villain and balances his frequent ominous lurking with gestures of genuine, often surprising, loyalty and kindness. Whether he’s a good detective, a nice person, or a particularly moral man, is something only the show’s concluding moments can tell, but Capaldi’s commanding, nuanced performance will keep you reevaluating how you feel about the character almost until the final credits roll. 

As crime dramas go, Criminal Record’s central case doesn’t exactly break new ground in terms of its storytelling, though it does touch on several painfully timely issues around the larger failings and institutional problems of policing and justice generally. (Though, on the whole, it is better at asking questions than it is at answering them.) But as a two-hander between two powerhouse performers at the top of their respective games? It’s more than worth your time. 

 Criminal Record premieres Wednesday, January 10th on Apple TV+. 

Lacy Baugher Milas is the Books Editor at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter @LacyMB.

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