‘Criminal Record’ Is a Riveting Detective Cat-and-Mouse Game

Following the violent police response to the protests that followed George Floyd’s murder in summer 2020, audiences are more aware than ever of the levels of corruption that exist within the institutions meant to protect them. That means that, in 2024, the traditional police procedural series has a tricky tightrope to walk. Writers have to let viewers know that they understand the innate immorality of this line of work, while also creating a compelling mystery or crime for police to solve, all without making them out to be the shiny, stalwart good guys.

It’s a tough task, one that Apple TV+’s Criminal Record is more than up to. The series, which premieres Jan. 10, cleverly walks this line throughout its solid first season, juggling the issues of race, bias, and ethics with dexterity as it builds its central puzzle. That juggling act is occasionally bungled a bit by the show’s heavy-handedness, but even amid its most forced winks at the audience, Criminal Record holds itself up with a tremendous pair of central performances. This may be the definitive proof that the antiquated police procedural is ready to take on a contorted new life.

The series makes no effort to disguise the ulterior motives of its subjects. From its opening scene, we’re introduced to London DCI (that’s “Detective Chief Inspector”) Daniel Hegarty (Peter Capaldi)—a seasoned detective, now largely confined to desk work—topping off his pension by moonlighting as a chauffeur to the rich and important. Hegarty is more than happy to entertain his clients’ persistent pleas for grisly stories about his time in the field; he knows the wicked nature of the people in his town car’s backseat and he can match their depravity word-for-word with his firsthand tales of murder and bad policing. Classified case details drop freely, but none that would ever implicate him in any wrongdoing. Hegarty’s a stalwart detective with a legacy to protect, and he’s intent on making that happen, no matter who gets in his way.

Of course, that kind of shady maneuvering isn’t so welcome in a new era of policing, where a thoughtless slip-up in front of the public would deservedly mean disgrace. DS (Detective Sergeant) June Lenker (Cush Jumbo) knows that just as well, despite being far more green to London’s detective force. Between investigating cases, June’s just trying to keep her family at peace, running license plate numbers for her overly suspicious older mother—a direct violation of conduct.

June’s well-meaning infringement is exactly what could come back to bite her after she becomes obsessed with a new case. An anonymous domestic violence emergency caller is making allegations about a wrongful homicide conviction, claiming that the boyfriend who has been threatening her is the one who committed the murder someone else is in prison for. The caller’s details check out, which means that June could be sitting on a major miscarriage of justice. But there’s just one… well, two problems: The murder is the stuff of local legend in London’s low-income neighborhoods, making it easy to lie about specifics; and the case was investigated by Hegarty, who seems eerily determined to chalk the caller’s claims up to a prank.

Criminal Record shrewdly sets up its game, putting the pieces into place with a delicate precision that viewers will appreciate amidst all of the quick-flying detective terminology. It may be helpful to have a search engine at the ready to look up the police acronyms (DV, DS, DSI, YMCA—kidding), but it’s easy enough to pick up if you pay attention. The series isn’t intent on holding viewers’ hands; it makes little effort to slow itself down and lay everything out on the table in an easily digestible format. But that’s ultimately for the best, as it stretches itself quite far on its confident intellect alone. Much like Netflix’s all-too-underrated The Diplomat, Criminal Record is exactly as sharp as it purports itself to be.

Less agile are the series' attempts to contextualize its own existence. June, a Black woman in a problematic profession, is saddled with a largely inefficient therapist for a husband, Leo (Stephen Campbell Hanratty). Leo, who is white, seems to be written solely to be the unthreatening-but-emotionally daft spouse, at times even going so far as to blatantly discount his wife’s apprehension. When June meets with Hegarty to discuss the homicide case he worked on that her anonymous tip has led her to, he refers to the man who was convicted, Errol Mathis (Tom Moutchi), as “the poor man’s O.J.”

It’s a clear prejudice, but Leo casually brushes it off when June tells him about it. Though this efficiently illustrates Hegarty as the kind of prickly, old-guard detective who clings to his unconscious bias, it leaves Leo as a frustratingly one-note tertiary character. While not all the ventures to call out the systemic corruption and inherent bias are this clumsy, it’s clear that the writers haven’t yet nailed down how to convince their audience that they aren’t trying to glorify police.

These small blunders would be even less noticeable if Jumbo weren’t putting on such an exciting performance opposite the equally brilliant Capaldi. Their terrific work in Criminal Record creates a strange discord between the show’s gripping narrative and its too-conspicuous message. But Capaldi and Jumbo are so gifted that they can transcend the occasional bit of clunky dialogue. Capaldi is grizzly and uncouth, two qualities that his long career has made him an expert at conveying, but brought to insidious new heights here. Hegarty is a slippery character, and Capaldi does a fine job carefully doling out his true motivations to build out the role.

Despite Capaldi's—and, coincidentally, his character’s—revered status, Jumbo is a beyond-capable sparring partner. She has the right amount of tenacity to make June’s stubborn nature believable, gracefully deepening the series beyond the average procedural. But Criminal Record is best when its two leads are facing off. Thankfully, the series lets them spar often, each one regularly getting a leg up on the other. It’s a thrilling thing, seeing characters outsmart each other without the series itself hinging itself entirely on that fleeting delight. This is a modest effort, a series trying far harder to be a great show than it is one of the great shows. It’s because of that humble confidence that Criminal Record works in the end, building out an absorbing tale of the rot festering inside this institution—even if it might not succeed in imparting all of the wisdom it tries to weave between the lines.