The magnificent bleakness of the Donegal landscape provided a stunning backdrop to series one of Irish language murder mystery Crá – and now both the show and those searing vistas are back for a second season (TG4, Tuesday, 9.30pm).
Irish-language television can sometimes trip up on its enthusiasm for communicating as Gaeilge, with the medium eclipsing the message. Not so with this remarkably confident co-production by TG4 and the BBC, which has created wholesale the new genre of Donegal noir and run with it.
The characters in Crá speak in both Irish and English. Yet the script never feels like it’s wagging its finger at you about the importance of the language. It just gets on with it – and even when nothing much is happening, you can exult in the dramatic scenery which glowers like Mordor as filtered through a Clannad ballad.
Plus, it moves like Peig Sayers on a jet ski, as established from the outset with a scene in which a prison van is raided by what can only be described as the action movie version of rap group Kneecap, who then drive off in every boy racer’s favourite wheels – a Japanese import tricked out to the eyeballs.
A prison break is bad news for Crá’s brooding, very stubbly Garda anti-hero, Conall Ó Súilleabháin (Dónall Ó Héalaí). But he has other problems, too – chief among them the fallout from the suspicious disappearance of his father, Art, at the end of season one.
He also has a troubled love life which goes off the deep end following a hook-up with an enigmatic Albanian newcomer. As all of this unfolds, Crá reintroduces us to Conall’s skittish understudy, Barry (Alex Murphy) and to pushy podcaster Ciara-Kate (Hannah Brady).
Crá has done well internationally, where it was sold under the clunky title of Boglands and is a stellar showcase for a distinctly Irish style of crime fiction. Yet for all its evocative landscapes, it is also a very urban story, with much of the action unfolding in Letterkenny, where Conall is mentored by a senior garda, Aoife Cooney (Siobhán O’Kelly).
But as he tries to focus on the job – specifically this prison break – he is haunted by the fate (as yet uncertain) of his father, whom he marched out into the squelchy hinterlands at the end of season one, before everything faded to black.
As that mystery unfolds, the Irish language component of Crá fades into the background, and the viewer is drawn into a gripping thriller that plays out. It’s Reservoir Dogs in a bog – and one of the best home-grown dramas of the year.