Deadloch’s compelling mystery, genuinely funny black comedy, and social politics are perfectly executed
A new comedy-mystery series from ‘The Kates’, Deadloch sees two vastly different detectives (Kate Box and Madeleine Sami) thrown together to solve a murder in a sleepy seaside Australian hamlet. Even with its pedigree, Amelia Berry was surprised at just how perfectly executed the show is.
(You should also check out Berry’s conversation with Sami about playing Deadloch‘s “really loose unit” detective.)
Deadloch: Season 1
A boat bobs in the choppy sea, somewhere off the coast of rural Tasmania. A gloved hand carefully slices flesh, tossing handfuls into the dark water, soon to be devoured by a waiting shark. On board, a radio blasts Celebration by classic 70s funk band Kool and the Gang. The gloved figure saves one piece of viscera for themselves, lovingly laying it in a bed of ice.
Cut to—title sequence.
Then—back to blood. Dripping, red, washed with water down the drain. Very Lady Macbeth. Only this time, it’s not some sinister silhouette, it’s a short scruffy woman in a boho quilted top rinsing out her menstrual cup. Standing a solid foot taller, her wife spits out toothpaste and winces, trying not to get dragged into a therapy-speak sit-down about What Happened Last Night.
This is Deadloch, the new comedy/noir from Kate McCartney and Kate McLennan a.k.a The Kates. With form for spot-on parody (Get Krack!n and The Katering Show taking on morning TV and cooking shows respectively), it’s no surprise that The Kates’ next project would turn to tackle the self-serious pomp of the gritty detective drama.
But what is surprising, is just how perfectly executed Deadloch is. Originally conceived as ‘funny Broadchurch’, it delivers on a compelling mystery, genuinely funny black comedy, pristine cinematography, and an overwhelmingly brilliant ensemble cast. Even more rare for the detective genre, Deadloch is a show with a perspective on social politics that feels rooted in the real world and not, say, the letters section of your nastiest local newspaper.
The setup is classic. Deadloch is a small town in Tasmania. In the last few years, it’s found itself the destination du-jour for Sydney lesbians looking to up sticks and set up an organic honey farm (or etc.) in the country. Just as the annual food and arts festival is about to kick off, a body washes up on the shore. It’s Trent Latham—local dickhead/bogan gym owner.
Deadloch detective Dulcie Collins is on the case. Played by Kate Box (Rake, Wentworth), that was Dulcie above, spitting the toothpaste. Her wife Cath (she of the menstrual cup—played by Offspring’s brilliant Alicia Gardiner) doesn’t want her to lead the investigation.
But then, it’s taken out of their hands. Higher-ups want to send in a hotshot from the city. This is Eddie Redcliffe (The Breaker Upperers’ Madeleine Sami), fresh from Darwin, dressed like a 14-year-old boy with a special interest in Ace Ventura, and determined that Dulcie is an idiot if she can’t see what this case is really about—drugs. Ice. Smuggling. All that.
From here, Deadloch spins out a fascinating little world of factionalism in its titular locale. As the bodies begin to stack up, it quickly turns into straight vs gay, men vs women, rich vs poor, Indigenous vs settler, new Deadloch vs old Deadloch, and Eddie vs pretty much everybody in town. It’s a rich setting for conflict, and it’s a testament to the writing and the cast that even the most incidental characters feel juicily torn between these intersecting commitments and identities.
While a lot of detective shows promise ‘gritty realism’, too often this winds up in the same old tropes—David was secretly Diane’s son but his wife thought they were having an affair so she killed both of them! Brian was molested twenty years ago so his now estranged friend took revenge on their paedo football coach! The mum did it! Everyone is miserable, and everyone loses.
Deadloch succeeds in large part because its realism feels actually properly real. These are people you might know, making bad decisions, being rude, being nice, being funny, dying horribly and unexpectedly. You tip out your menstrual cup, you brush your teeth… someone will attempt conflict resolution with you via a memorised Instagram infographic about love languages. This is real life, and this, refreshingly, is Deadloch.
