Netflix Review – Detective Hole: An Imperfect Yet Valuable Contribution to the Noir Genre

      Jack Gayer evaluates Detective Hole…

      It is wise to distinguish the art from the artist, and likewise, it makes sense to differentiate the new iteration of a work from its predecessor. However well-meaning this attempt may be, fully separating an earlier version from a new one often proves futile. It’s akin to asking someone to forget that Walter White used to be Hal from Malcolm in the Middle.

      The newly premiered show Detective Hole—pronounced similarly to the sauce "mole"—is an adaptation of the novel The Devil’s Star, which was published in Norway in 2003, with its English translation issued in 2010.

      Before diving into the review of Detective Hole, it’s essential to address this type of adaptation. Many people fall prey to what academics term the “fidelity myth,” the idea that a book-to-film or TV series transition must adhere strictly to the source material.

      When reading a novel, you visualize the characters in your mind, becoming emotionally invested and protective of them. When that illusion is shattered by a subpar adaptation, it can provoke a visceral reaction.

      In essence, if you haven’t read Jo Nesbø, you are watching an entirely different show. You aren't burdened by previous expectations. The downside, however, is that you’ve missed out on experiencing one of the greatest crime authors of all time. This concern extends to other adaptations, such as films. Keeping this in mind, let’s explore the uneven brilliance of Detective Hole.

      Perhaps wisely avoiding the full name of the character, “Harry Hole,” Netflix chose the slightly better “Detective Hole” for the show's title. Dedicated Nesbø fans have awaited an adaptation with the same fervor that Harry Potter admirers once experienced before the release of each new book, or how Rob Ford’s aides must have felt with every unpredictable statement he made.

      Let’s not mention the disastrous adaptation that was The Snowman (2017).

      Okay, we’ll touch on it briefly. It is a stain upon cinema, a disaster of epic proportions. Had Oppenheimer been alive during the release of The Snowman, he might have said, “I was mistaken; the true destroyer of worlds is the mind behind this travesty. What cruel fate allowed this to exist? I pray for their misguided souls. Now give me lunch, a quart of martinis, and a pack of cigarettes.” Or something of that nature.

      The Snowman is the seventh novel in the Harry Hole series and one of the best, which makes its failed adaptation all the more egregious. The book serves as a superb example of Nordic noir, spanning 450-560 pages (depending on the edition) that can be devoured in a day or two—assuming you sideline loved ones, occasionally bathe, and sustain yourself through an IV. Worth it! However, the film became a perfect storm of poor choices and was hampered by a rushed production, as stated by the director.

      The Snowman featured a woefully miscast Michael Fassbender and co-starred Val Kilmer, who had recently lost his voice due to throat cancer, resulting in his lines awkwardly dubbed. Co-written by Hossein Amini, who adapted Drive (2011), and directed by Tomas Alfredson, known for Let the Right One In (2008) and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011), the film at least had promise initially. What transpired during production remains a mystery. Alfredson claims that approximately 15% of the screenplay was never filmed, though one wonders how much difference that would have made. Alfredson has wisely distanced himself from the final product.

      The experience of watching The Snowman can be summarized as follows: if this writer faced a jail sentence or the choice of watching the film again, he would vehemently opt for the longer prison term. We can only speculate about the film that could have been, as it was originally set to be directed by none other than Martin Scorsese.

      Now back to Detective Hole. Tobias Santelmann portrays our protagonist Harry Hole, and if you had the wisdom to see him in Darkness: Those Who Kill, you're familiar with his compelling presence. With just a glance, he conveys pathos, vulnerability, anguish, and rage—all essential traits of a deeply internal character like Hole. As a talker, he generally is not. It's even more impressive considering that Santelmann played a serial killer in Darkness. “Serial killers have feelings too!”—said no one ever.

      Santelmann's face is attractive without being overly pretty. It’s weathered and bears the marks of his struggles. The success of this show depended heavily on the casting of Hole, and Santelmann rises to the occasion. While Kenneth Branagh's portrayal in Wallander is commendable, he seems almost like Mr. Rogers when compared to Santelmann's performance as Harry Hole.

      He conveys a lot with minimal gestures. Those