3: Selected Crime Films and TV of the New Millennium

The approach adopted here is to cover dramas made in the twenty-first century, but I include shows that began in the last millennium and continued into this one, such as NYPD Blue.

BAD LIEUTENANT (film, 2009)

Abel Ferrara’s original 1992 cult film – with its bitter and caustic picture of a self-loathing corrupt cop played by Harvey Keitel – was always going to be a hard act to follow for any remake, and it took a certain chutzpah from the German arthouse director Werner Herzog (of all directors) to take another stab at the same scenario. With the reliable Nicolas Cage in the title role in the film (subtitled Port of Call: New Orleans), Herzog found another provocative approach to the material, with Cage meeting the challenge and giving a performance that almost matched Keitel’s in intensity. Herzog claimed never to have seen the original and the more blackly comic tone of this version suggested he might have been telling the truth.

BIG APPLE (TV, 2001)

Despite its brief life, Big Apple sported some modest virtues – unsurprising, given that it was the brainchild of the talented David Milch, responsible for the influential NYPD Blue. Directors of the series were generally encouraged to bring a nervy, kinetic approach to their work, and Ed O’Neill put in particularly commendable work as a police officer with a variety of personal and professional conflicts.

BOARDWALK EMPIRE (TV, 2010–14)

The improvisatory quality of the pilot episode of Boardwalk Empire was not to be replicated in the rest of the series. The reason? Martin Scorsese – who favours the extempore method in his work – was contracted to direct this opening segment (a canny commercial move, much used in the promotion of the series), but subsequent directors largely eschewed this approach, long something of a shibboleth in TV production. Set in the Prohibition era of the 1920s, the show’s central character is Enoch ‘Nucky’ Thompson, the Machiavellian treasurer of Atlantic City in New Jersey. Moving easily between gangsters and politicians, Nucky (a typically distinctive performance by Steve Buscemi) plays both ends against the middle in ruthless fashion. But then he draws the unwelcome attention of the federal government, which has started to take an interest in his conspicuously upscale mode of living. The show was well received and showcased some excellent performers (such as Michael Shannon) but never quite fulfilled the promise of the send-off Scorsese granted it.

BONES (TV, 2005–)

The Temperance Brennan books of Kathy Reichs did not lend themselves easily to TV adaptation, which no doubt accounts for the radical finessing they received in this series. A wise move in the event, given that the show was a palpable hit. Bones adopted a less astringent tone than many of its rivals, and won viewers’ affection – as attested by the fact that it has accrued a respectable 11 seasons and 250-plus episodes so far. The show, though, remains essentially a snapshot of Kathy Reichs’ novels.

BOSCH (TV, 2014–)

More than most literary coppers, readers appear to have myriad mental visions of Michael Connelly’s dogged cop Hieronymus ‘Harry’ Bosch, and it is a measure of the achievement of the actor Titus Welliver, along with the creative personnel behind this TV series (such as showrunner Eric Ellis Overmyer), that the approval level for the show was so high. Inevitably, the complexity of the novels is slightly smoothed out, but quite a large degree of the world that Connelly created for his forceful detective finds its way – somewhat refracted – into the show.

BREAKING BAD/BETTER CALL SAUL (TV, 2008–13, 2015–)

The curious cultural phenomenon that quickly attached itself to the Danish drama The Killing – the necessity on the part of many people to apologise for not having seen the show after it became de rigueur viewing – was also notable with Vince Gilligan’s remarkable, groundbreaking series. But those who made excuses rather than actually viewing the show did themselves a disservice. Perhaps even more than in the case of The Sopranos (discussed below), Breaking Bad quickly established itself as the quintessential example of long-form television, in which the texture, complexity and character development typical of a novel were injected into a televisual format. As we follow the cancer-afflicted chemistry teacher Walter White’s ever more horrendous progression into a world of drugs and crime, there is an echo of Robert Warshow’s essay ‘The Gangster as Tragic Hero’, with Walter moving from maladroit amateur drug manufacturer to monstrous inhuman killer and ruthless drug lord. The multifaceted character is brilliantly incarnated in Bryan Cranston’s layered performance. That series’ slippery, fast-talking criminal lawyer played by Bob Odenkirk was moved centre stage in the enjoyable follow-up Better Call Saul; more mordantly comic in tone but still catnip for admirers of the original series.

CASTLE (TV, 2009–16)

A highly successful crime show with (as protagonist) a crime novelist, Rick Castle, who works with a tough female New York cop, who acts as inspiration for his writing work. The show lasted eight seasons and ran to over 170 episodes before shutting up shop in 2016. A particularly ingratiating – and not too self-conscious – touch was the notion of guest spots in the show by real-life crime writers, notably Michael Connelly, Dennis Lehane, James Patterson and Stephen Cannell. The show also led to several serviceable tie-in novels.

THE CLOSER (TV, 2005–12)

Not always rising above the generic, this is a show that nevertheless found some new wrinkles in the crime genre, and its eight-year run demonstrated that it was doing something right. The show reflects the British show Prime Suspect with its beleaguered female copper (played by Kyra Sedgwick) encountering hostile males in the police department – some even requesting transfers before they’ve even met her. Sedgwick’s character is also reminiscent of Lynda La Plante’s Jane Tennison in another respect, with the detective’s messy personal life and casual attitude to her own health.

COLD CASE (TV, 2003–10)

If TV re-runs are an index of popularity (and they are), this much-seen, much-circulated show is a winner, although it was finally decommissioned in 2010. The characters are the members of a Philadelphia-based crew of detectives working on the eponymous ‘cold cases’ as new evidence appears. Frequently by-the-numbers, but with virtues.

COLLATERAL (film, 2004)

A demonstration of Tom Cruise’s oft-maligned thespian skills was this taut Michael Mann thriller, in which the star acquits himself well as the ice-cold hitman who hijacks a taxi and its hapless driver (the latter played by Jamie Foxx). Cruise has played against type several times, and he is particularly effective here, with Mann’s customary visual stylishness highlighted by the fact that the film was shot on both film and digital video.

CRIMINAL MINDS (TV, 2005–)

With the criminal profilers of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit as protagonists, this highly successful show has run to 11 seasons and more than 250 episodes. At the time of writing, the series has been renewed for a twelfth season. There have been two spin-offs, the brief run of Criminal Minds: Suspect Behavior (which ran for just one season in 2011) and Criminal Minds: Beyond Borders (from 2016; it was renewed for a second season).

CSI franchise, including CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI: Miami, CSI: NY and CSI: Cyber (TV, various dates)

Somewhere, on some television network from Liverpool to Poughkeepsie, an episode of this multifarious CSI franchise is playing, supplying none-too-confrontational comfort television viewing that is rarely disturbing but always intriguing, even though the detectives are mostly unfeasibly handsome – few police departments in the real word boast killer cheekbones like those we see in CSI. And if that sounds like faint praise, it’s possibly because the show’s basic tropes are (inevitably) spread rather thinly over the wide variety of offshoots, with the individual attributes of the actors in each show carrying the weight of the drama. And because of this overextension, there is no denying that cliché has crept more firmly into this franchise than in most of its competitors. Nevertheless, when a viewer tunes into one of the show’s tributaries – even halfway through – they will probably find themselves watching till the end.

THE DEPARTED (film, 2006)

Martin Scorsese’s sure touch as a director of such crime classics as Goodfellas seemed to be in abeyance shortly before this resounding return to form. The Departed is a remake of the Hong Kong film Infernal Affairs, and has Scorsese’s go-to actor Leonardo DiCaprio as a Boston cop going undercover to trap Mafia boss Jack Nicholson. Nicholson’s career had been in something of a similar slump, but he found his customary eye-catching form under Scorsese’s focused direction.

DEXTER (TV, 2006–13)

Jeff Lindsay’s novels – in which a functioning psychopath working with the police kills other less winning psychopaths – was lucky enough to be made into this engaging but (without wishing to sound prissy) morally dubious series. Rather in the fashion that Coppola’s The Godfather knowingly utilised the appeal of its leading players to allow us to ignore their murderous nature, we are always subtly on the side of the actor Michael C Hall against the variety of blood-spattered nasty opponents he is usually up against. It’s a balancing act, as in the books, but – as Lindsay originally realised – a healthy dose of black humour makes the medicine slip down very nicely.

DRIVE (film, 2011)

To the real aficionado of American crime fiction, the name of the writer James Sallis conveys a pared-down, existential approach to the genre that might be described as quintessentially cinematic. Certainly his novel Drive proved to be a perfect springboard for Nicolas Winding Refn’s nervy, forceful adaptation. The actor Ryan Gosling, on the cusp of the superstardom he is now enjoying, plays a character moonlighting as a getaway driver (there is a nod to Walter Hill’s equally sparse and existential film classic The Driver) who aids a married neighbour (Carey Mulligan) on the run from gangsters. The extreme violence did not faze genre fans but accrued some mainstream criticism for the film.

END OF WATCH (film, 2012)

Written and directed by the talented David Ayer, End of Watch established a strong relationship between its stars Jake Gyllenhaal and Michael Peña as police colleagues and best friends; their spiky badinage is a particular pleasure of the film. The use of a hand-held camera at intervals grants an air of verisimilitude.

FARGO (TV, 2014–)

It’s not always a risk converting a hit film into a television series, provided some surgery is performed on the original property; McCloud with Dennis Weaver, for instance, ripped off the central premise of Don Siegel’s Coogan’s Bluff but added its own individual touches. The Coen Brothers’ wonderfully eccentric and (seemingly) haphazard original film – famous for its unglamorous (and pregnant) female cop played by Frances McDormand – was an influence on several subsequent shows. Perhaps sensing it might be an intractable property when it came to retooling for television, Noah Hawley created an anthology format for the show, and it proved to be a success – if, finally, it lacks the highly individual quirkiness of the original. English actor Martin Freeman was a canny addition to the series; the Coen Brothers, however, suggested that they were distinctly underwhelmed by the show.

GANGS OF NEW YORK (film, 2002)

In terms of conception, casting and creative talent, Gangs of New York had everything going for it, and admirers of Martin Scorsese were both surprised and disappointed that the film lacked the kind of highly individual vision that distinguishes his best work. Nevertheless, Gangs has much to offer in this tale of confrontation between criminal gangs in the Manhattan of the 1860s. Leonardo DiCaprio (notably under par) joins a gang to avenge the murder of his father, but his relationship with the gang leader played by Daniel Day-Lewis (in a self-consciously grandstanding performance) compromises his intentions. Visually, the film is stunning, and the sense of time and locale is perfectly evoked.

GONE BABY GONE (film, 2007)

While the actor Ben Affleck has recently donned the cape and cowl of the Dark Knight – and has a very respectable acting career – his most lasting achievement may be as a director. Like his predecessor Clint Eastwood, he has proved as adept at this discipline as he ever was as a thespian. There was a lot to lose in this adaptation of the ambitious novel by the author of Mystic River, Dennis Lehane, but Affleck drew together the strands of his intelligent film with great aplomb. Set in the working-class districts of Boston, the narrative involves the disappearance of a four-year-old girl. Private eye Patrick Kenzie (Casey Affleck) follows her trail with single-minded dedication – even as Affleck cannily consolidates our interest. There are superb supporting turns from Morgan Freeman and Ed Harris as cops on the same case.

GONE GIRL (film, 2014)

A film of Gillian Flynn’s mega-hit novel was absolutely inevitable, but what was less predictable was that it would be both a critical and a commercial success. As in the previous entry – but here as actor rather than director (the film is directed by David Fincher) – Ben Affleck is as reliable as ever as the husband under suspicion after the disappearance of his wife (and the actor, commendably, does not attempt to ingratiate himself with the audience). But the real revelation here is the English actress Rosamund Pike in the title role, moving on from merely decorative roles to supply a performance of real complexity in what is essentially an impossible part. At a stroke, Pike considerably increased the esteem in which she was held.

HANNIBAL (TV, 2013–15)

While Thomas Harris has so far declined to furnish a satisfying resolution to his Hannibal Lecter saga (with his psychopathic anti-hero and vulnerable heroine Clarice Starling left in a bizarre sex slave situation), an entirely different challenge was presented to the makers of the television series that followed the various films – one that, in the event, they were not able to overcome. In as much as the series format (as opposed to a serial format) dictates that Hannibal has to remain in virtually the same situation at the beginning of each episode, there is never a sense of organic development among the characters or in the narrative – we’re left with a Dexter-style scenario in which a murderous killer tracks other killers as bad as (or worse than) himself. End of episode – back to square one. In the title role, Mads Mikkelsen gleaned admirers, but didn’t capture the ice-cold intellectual menace of the Anthony Hopkins or Brian Cox film assumptions of the role.

A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE (film, 2005)

While initially making his mark as a director of intelligent, provocative horror films, the Canadian filmmaker David Cronenberg has ventured (with considerable success) into the crime genre over the years, notably in the English-set Eastern Promises and this telling piece. Taking the basic premise of Hemingway’s The Killers (and its subsequent film adaptations) – the ex-criminal who goes to ground and attempts to forge a new identity before being tracked down by his associates – Cronenberg grants the familiar scenario a more multifaceted and nuanced approach than we have previously seen in the various versions of this plot device, aided by a nicely ambiguous central performance from Viggo Mortensen.

IN PLAIN SIGHT (TV, 2008–12)

David Maples’ crime drama stars Mary McCormack, Frederick Weller and Paul Ben-Victor. The show may frequently trade in the familiar – notably the fractious relationship between police colleagues – but finds some intriguing ways to subvert the clichés. And while the familial relationships in the show are cut from standard material, there is some attempt to make the variety of villains unlike those we have seen before.

INSOMNIA (film, 2002)

The history of Hollywood cinema is littered with ill-advised remakes of European films in which the very elements that made the originals successful are thoroughly leached out. And while the original Scandinavian film of this title (directed by Erik Skjoldbjærg) seemed ripe for such damage to be done, that proved not to be the case – hardly surprising, in fact, given the involvement of the director Christopher Nolan and the highly accomplished actors Al Pacino and Robin Williams. They may not bring the intensity to their parts of their Nordic predecessors, but their performances remain hypnotic.

JACK REACHER (film, 2012)

When this writer once gently suggested to Lee Child that the modest-sized Tom Cruise might not be the best choice to play Child’s tall hero Jack Reacher, the author, smiling, replied, ‘Do you think he’s a good actor, Professor?’ (That’s what he calls me.) My answer was an unqualified ‘yes’; he proved it in such films as Rain Man, in which he held his own capably against Dustin Hoffman. Much derision was directed at the casting of Cruise as Child’s implacable, picaresque hero in Christopher McQuarrie’s adaptation, but there is no denying that Cruise quietly nailed the part in a restrained but efficient film that steered clear of the improbable heroics of his Mission Impossible franchise. A sequel was to follow.

JUSTIFIED (TV, 2010–15)

While Elmore Leonard is possibly among the top three or four greatest modern American crime writers, filmed adaptations of his work have been hit or miss; ironically, the films of his Westerns Hombre and 3:10 to Yuma are unqualified winners. This television series joined such successful film adaptations of Leonard as Barry Sonnenfeld’s Get Shorty in capturing the author’s highly individual approach to the crime fiction genre; the darkest humour is set against notably quirky, dialogue-heavy characterisation. What’s more, in the five-year run of the series, more and more of Leonard’s particular universe was successfully freighted into successive episodes. US Marshal Raylan Givens is dispatched from Miami to his childhood stamping ground of depressed rural coal-mining towns in Eastern Kentucky.

KAREN SISCO (TV, 2003–04)

Still with Leonard, this sharp series (all too brief in its run) has as its title character a female United States marshal – an Elmore Leonard creation – on Miami’s Gold Coast. Deftly and efficiently made, this is worth seeking out.

THE KILLER INSIDE ME (film, 2010)

Any recommendations for British director Michael Winterbottom’s visceral adaptation of Jim Thompson’s novel have to come with a caveat: the film contains one of the most difficult to watch sequences in any crime movie, in which the psychopathic sheriff hero (chillingly played by Casey Affleck) systematically – and at some length – beats a woman to death. The sequence shares with a similar scene in Gaspar Noé’s Irreversible the capacity to unsettle even the most violence-jaundiced of viewers. An earlier film version of Thompson’s nihilistic novel had captured some of the pitch blackness at its centre, but Michael Winterbottom was the filmmaker who took audiences to the furthest reaches of a twisted criminal psyche.

KILLER JOE (film, 2011)

While various directors have either encouraged – or perhaps just not discouraged – the excellent actor Matthew McConaughey from using his barely articulated Texan accent in film after film with an attention to realism rather than comprehensibility (non-American audiences often struggle with the actor’s naturalistic delivery of dialogue), there is no denying his sheer force and charisma. Everything he plays – including his efficient but largely unsympathetic character in this powerful piece – demonstrates his commendable refusal to play for easy likeability. The film is also something of a return to form for the director William Friedkin.

KISS KISS BANG BANG (film, 2005)

On its first appearance, Shane Black’s comic thriller enjoyed some enthusiastic notices, if no great commercial success, and its reputation has grown over the years – suggesting that its strange mix of the comic and the violent was perhaps ahead of its time. It’s interesting now to look at the performance of Robert Downey Jr; his reading of the dialogue seems like a prototype of what was to follow in his much-loved fast-talking characterisations in superhero movies.

LAW & ORDER (TV, 1990–2010)

Law & Order, the brainchild of Dick Wolf, synthesised both legal and police procedural elements and inaugurated a successful franchise. After its NBC run (beginning in 1990), it entered syndication, and the last season ran in May 2010. The show proved to be the most durable of crime series on US TV, with an impressive 20 seasons. The dramas were set in New York, often utilising real police cases, and a significant factor in the show’s success was the fact that it achieved a strong homogeneity despite a large and disparate cast.

THE LINCOLN LAWYER (film, 2011)

Michael Connelly’s second signature character (after Detective Harry Bosch) was given a very satisfactory cinematic incarnation in this slick adaptation, ably directed by Brad Furman, with the author’s slippery low-rent – but essentially good-guy – lawyer Mickey Haller winningly played by Matthew McConaughey. Mickey’s office is his chauffeured Crown Court Lincoln, and when he is engaged on the case of a rich man accused of trying to murder a prostitute, his complicated life becomes even more complicated. The plotting here is less important than the colourful characterisation, with such individual talents as William H Macy also shining in the cast.

LONGMIRE (TV, 2012–)

This solidly written series, created by Hunt Baldwin and John Coveny, is based on Craig Johnson’s popular novels about the cool and efficient sheriff of Absaroka County in Wyoming. He is a character with painful inner conflicts who keeps such things ruthlessly at bay in professional situations. Commendable attention is paid to character development, notably in the title role by Robert Taylor (not the more famous actor of that name, of course).

MEMENTO (film, 2000)

The plot may now be familiar (not least from other crime narratives that have borrowed it), but Christopher Nolan’s pre-Batman thriller is dispatched with both invention and originality, as Guy Pearce (excellent here, as he so often is) tries to deal with his lack of short-term memory. Unlike most current cinema, the audience is obliged to concentrate on what the film is saying – and it is all the better for it. It was clear from Nolan’s debut feature that great things would follow.

THE MENTALIST (TV, 2008–15)

The central notion of Bruno Heller’s show is novel: the principal character fakes psychic abilities to assist the California Bureau of Investigation (an organisation similar to the FBI), but is actually utilising his acute skill at psychological profiling to achieve results. Starring the sotto voce British actor Simon Baker in the title role, the show ran for seven seasons and reached a tally of over 150 episodes. With its charismatic star a key selling point, the show averaged 14 million viewers per episode over its entire run, and it was also nominated for the International TV Dagger at the Crime Thriller Awards in the UK. As so often in such shows, however, repetition was not always avoided.

MULHOLLAND DRIVE (film, 2001)

The reputation of David Lynch’s phantasmagoric cult movie could not be higher, and most would agree that it is fully justified. This film’s bizarre and surrealistic vision, almost a summa of the director’s fractured world view, is a nightmare meditation on certain aspects of American society. The visuals have an almost feverish intensity as the relationship plays out between a film star, Laura Harring, suffering memory loss and an aspiring actress played by Naomi Watts. The film’s ethos ranges from the erotic to the murderous and is brilliantly handled by both actresses (notably Watts, whose reputation was greatly burnished by this film).

MYSTIC RIVER (film, 2003)

Some crime films (notably The Godfather) improve upon the original material, while others traduce the novels on which they were based. Occasionally, however, an excellent novel is transformed into an equally excellent film – as was the case with Clint Eastwood’s lengthy but intensely focused adaptation of Dennis Lehane’s novel (from a screenplay by the talented Brian Helgeland). A group of childhood friends find their lives changed irrevocably when the daughter of one of their number is killed, obliging them to come to terms with this incident from their shared past. With the always-reliable Sean Penn, Tim Robbins and Kevin Bacon as the trio, Eastwood had a group of actors who could do full justice to his cogent vision.

NCIS (TV, 2003–)

This durable franchise actually began with JAG (1995–2005), utilising as protagonists military lawyers and standard police investigators. The show enjoyed a run of ten years, gleaning awards along the way. NCIS may be by some measure the number one television drama in the world – according to J Kingston Pierce – and it is definitely the most popular crime drama, having taken over from Law & Order. Offspring of the show include NCIS: Los Angeles (from 2009) and NCIS: New Orleans (2014 onwards). Its voracious appetite for story material has inevitably meant some recycling, but the changes are satisfyingly rung.

NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (film, 2007)

Certain actors are born to play terrifying psychopaths (the diminutive Joe Pesci has made something of a speciality in this area), but one of the most implacable realisations of a terrifying murderer was delivered by Javier Bardem for the Coen Brothers in this remarkable thriller from Cormac McCarthy’s novel. Vietnam vet Llewelyn Moss (played by Josh Brolin) discovers a drug deal gone awry and steals a suitcase containing millions of dollars. But soon on his tail is a merciless killer wielding a cattle prod – not to mention other drug dealers and a tenacious sheriff (Tommy Lee Jones). The film is both tough and decidedly bleak.

NUMB3RS (TV, 2005–10)

Produced by Ridley and Tony Scott, this solid crime drama features two brothers (like the Scotts?) who tackle crime in tandem; one is an FBI agent, the other a mathematician. With strong performances and a keen engagement with a variety of social issues, the show ran for six seasons and ratchetted up over 100 episodes.

NYPD BLUE (TV, 1993–2005)

Longevity is not always a guarantee of quality in television (look how long the woeful Big Brother franchise has lasted), but it is an indication of the achievement of this show which, like Law & Order, made its first appearance in the 1990s but continued into the new millennium. Created by Steven Bochco and David Milch, the show is now famous for the eternally growling, caustic copper played by Dennis Franz, channelling a variety of performances he had given in the films of Brian De Palma. Like many long-running shows, NYPD Blue visibly ran out of steam towards the end of its run, but Franz deservedly won praise for his portrayal of the character Andy Sipowicz. The show was also celebrated for the fact that real-life law enforcers praised NYPD Blue for its unglamorous authenticity.

OCEAN’S ELEVEN (film, 2001)

The Frank Sinatra/Lewis Milestone original may have been compromised by the laziness that affected so many of the actor’s films (the exception being the John Frankenheimer classic The Manchurian Candidate), but the effortless cool of the Clan grants the film a retrospective sheen. So a certain chutzpah was required by George Clooney, Matt Damon and their associates to bring off this remake of the 1950s Las Vegas heist movie – and the younger actors’ readiness to take it on proved highly successful, not least because of director Steven Soderbergh’s nicely judged mix of fun and tension. Inevitably, sequels followed.

THE PLEDGE (film, 2001)

Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s celebrated original novel is one of the classics of European crime fiction, with the story of a dogged detective’s years-long wait to track down a killer incorporating a philosophical dimension not often seen in the genre. The actor Sean Penn (directing here) appears to juggle childishness and ego with the surest of filmmaking instincts when it comes to his output as both an actor and a director, and his work on this remarkable adaptation is a career best. He is immeasurably aided by Jack Nicholson, superb in one of his least mannered performances as the cop heavily weighed down by guilt.

RIPLEY’S GAME (film, 2002)

This writer once met Patricia Highsmith, who expressed to me – in no uncertain terms – her disappointment with Alfred Hitchcock’s film of her first novel, Strangers on a Train; I politely demurred – but not too strongly, as she was a touch on the fearsome side and I was a very young journalist. In fact, Highsmith has been particularly lucky over the years with her film adaptations – and recently a rush of cinema versions of her books have been filling cinema screens. Her charming and murderous protagonist Tom Ripley has had a variety of incarnations (beginning with Alain Delon’s take in René Clément’s Plein Soleil, a version of The Talented Mr Ripley), and one would have thought that the versatile American actor John Malkovich – particularly adept at balancing charm and menace – would be perfect casting in this version of the novel Ripley’s Game. But the director Liliana Cavani was clearly reluctant to rein in the stylised mannerisms that had often blighted Malkovitch’s performances, and, equally damaging, her adagio pacing in the film keeps things just slightly below boiling point.

ROAD TO PERDITION (film, 2002)

Max Allan Collins’ graphic novel has long enjoyed a following, and this film adaptation does it considerable justice, not least for the counterintuitive casting of Tom Hanks as an ice-cold hitman well aware of his parental responsibilities and an ageing Paul Newman as a deeply unpleasant mob boss. Sam Mendes, always a strong director of actors (as befits his stage directing experience), brings out the best in both of his performers. A pre-007 Daniel Craig is also on view, prior to being directed by Mendes in that role.

THE SHIELD (TV, 2002–08)

Taking the viewer into a sweaty inner-city Los Angeles police precinct, Shawn Ryan’s gritty show may use the standard ‘cops breaking the rules to get results’ scenario but overfamiliarity is largely kept at bay with some inventive storylines, while the bullet-headed actor Michael Chiklis studiously avoids any bids for audience sympathy. Chiklis was subsequently to play an even more bullet-headed and violent character, The Fantastic Four’s Ben Grimm. The multi-stranded plotlines are refreshingly complex, although it has to be said that they frequently stretch viewer credibility. The edgy shooting style – while familiar from other shows – was influential on succeeding crime dramas.

SIN CITY (film, 2005)

Frank Miller has long been one of the most radical talents working in – and transforming – the comics medium with his design-led work. And while many would be happy with this level of achievement, Miller opted to make his mark in the cinema – and certainly did so with this visually breath-taking slice of neo-noir pulpishness, a heady goulash of detectives, violent criminals and femme fatales. The markedly stylised visuals (in which we can recognise, transformed in graphic novel style, Bruce Willis, Mickey Rourke and British actor Clive Owen) succeed in distracting us from the various plot elements that are essentially lovingly repurposed clichés of the genre; it might be argued that Miller was fully aware of the shop-worn materials he was tackling and of how his radical treatment would transform them. A sequel to the film made in 2014 was far less successful.

SONS OF ANARCHY (TV, 2008–14)

A project from the writers of The Shield (Kurt Sutter was a writer, producer and director on both shows), Sons of Anarchy proved to be as strong and accomplished as its well-thought-of predecessor. Avoiding the clichés of the police procedural, the show (uncompromisingly violent in nature) dealt with the members of a California biker gang, granting its unpromising premise genuine scope and ambition. Sons of Anarchy broke records for the FX cable network, surpassing the viewing figures of previous hit shows such as its predecessor The Shield. As well as gleaning strong audience approval, the show was also a critical success and was nominated for numerous Emmy Awards (which, controversially, it never won).

THE SOPRANOS (TV, 1999–2007)

Where to start with The Sopranos? In the twenty-first century, David Chase’s groundbreaking show is universally recognised as one of the most important contributions to TV crime drama ever made, incorporating a richness and complexity rarely seen in the genre. And a particular achievement of the show is that most of its protagonists are a truly loathsome bunch of American Mafiosi; the balancing act performed here is making its murderous central character, Tony Soprano, not exactly sympathetic but allowing the viewer to become involved in his various problems, ranging from the elimination of criminal rivals to his panic attacks and his problems with troublesome offspring. Tacit audience collusion with the ruthless Tony is established in the teeth of any moral repugnancy we might feel, not least because of the late James Gandolfini’s superbly rounded performance in the title role. There are those who feel that the ambiguous ending – we never learn the final fate of Tony – lacks the catharsis of the classical gangster tale.

THE TOWN (film, 2010)

Fiercely concentrated and brilliantly stage-managed, The Town is further evidence of Ben Affleck’s considerable skill as a filmmaker. A group of bank robbers find that the bank manager they briefly took hostage may have the ability to identify them, despite the fact that they wore masks. Affleck’s troubled central character is set against the underplayed FBI man of John Hamm. The film’s study of loyalty and betrayal is highly persuasive.

TRAFFIC (film, 2000)

Steven Soderbergh has shown a marked affinity for the crime genre throughout his very varied career, and the faux-documentary style he adopts for Traffic pays dividends. With a variety of interlaced plot elements to deal with, the viewer is given a fascinating picture of the lines of supply for US drug culture. The large cast is uniformly excellent, but Benicio Del Toro in particular stands out as a compromised Mexican cop in one of the performances of his career.

TRUE DETECTIVE (TV, 2014–)

Nic Pizzolatto’s remarkable crime show built up an almost unprecedented cult reputation that was very speedily torpedoed by the misconceived second series. In the first series, however – which looked and sounded like nothing else viewers had seen before – troubled Louisiana State Police detectives Rust Cohle and Marty Hart find themselves being examined about a homicide investigation they previously worked on in 1995. Set against the interrogation scenes involving the two compromised principals, the solving of a ritual murder is proved to be not at all what it seems. So many elements of the show, notably its superbly realised visuals (including one kinetically shot chase around a suburban neighbourhood), gleaned praise – not least the mesmeric performances of Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey (the latter constantly uttering gnomic and impenetrable philosophical remarks in an often incomprehensible accent). The show is in the upper echelons of televised crime drama; while the ending may have cheekily borrowed from a famous horror film (which I won’t name here for the sake of True Detective virgins), it did not vitiate the effect of what had gone before. The fall from grace, however, happened with the second season of the show, with new actors and the virtual absence of all that had distinguished the inaugural series.

VERONICA MARS (TV, 2004–07)

The title character in Rob Thomas’s enjoyable, sparky drama has worked in her teenage years as a private detective; she ends up back in her home town for a high school reunion and becomes involved in a criminal investigation. The striking performance by Kristen Bell is a notable plus factor here, and led to a movie that, rather than being an introduction to the series, assumed a total familiarity with the material on the part of the viewer. Certainly, for Bell’s character alone, the series deserved a longer run than it received.

WINTER’S BONE (film, 2010)

The bush telegraph among reviewers of crime fiction and films is sometimes a useful guide to work that deserves attention, and that early warning system was quickly alive to the merits of this distinctive and atmospheric film directed by Debra Granik and adapted from the novel by cult writer Daniel Woodrell. The setting is a rundown shanty town in the Ozarks, and Jennifer Lawrence – an actress of prodigious skill – gives a career-best performance as a teenager obliged to arrange the life of her own disorganised mother and siblings when her father, a drug dealer, jumps bail and abandons them. The film is sharply observed, focusing on the ground-down life of its hapless protagonists, and has a trenchancy that makes it anything but a depressing experience. For once, an excellent crime novel has had salutary justice done to it in the film adaptation.

THE WIRE (TV, 2002–08)

A nigh-legendary crime drama. For five ever more ambitious and all-encompassing seasons, David Simon’s sprawling Baltimore-set HBO crime series redefined the genre as fundamentally as The Sopranos had done previously, taking in drug culture, politics, business, unions and even the US teaching system. It was a series that aspired to being a modern vison of society to match that of Émile Zola. David Simon spent time with Baltimore’s homicide police in 1988 and created a picture of the city – notably dystopian, despite his claims to the contrary – and its compromised police force every bit as idiomatic as his depiction of the drug dealers (both the kingpins and the grunts) who take up half the narrative. The show made stars of the British actors Idris Elba and Dominic West (both adopting totally persuasive American accents), while utilising such top-notch crime writers as George Pelecanos and Richard Price. The series has proved to be a tough act to follow, not least for showrunner David Simon himself.

WITHOUT A TRACE (TV, 2002–09)

Hank Steinberg’s long-running show relies heavily on the solid presence of its leading players Anthony LaPaglia, Poppy Montgomery and Enrique Murciano to keep its slightly repetitive series of plotlines fresh. The show, for all its virtues, lacks the complexity of such crime dramas as The Wire (as discussed above) and tends to focus on emotionally driven storylines that can always be guaranteed to provide an instant frisson. What’s more, the central characters are cast within a relatively limited developmental framework and display a prescribed set of characteristics each episode. The show does, however, incorporate an ironclad sense of pace and a careful attention to cinematography – the latter always utilitarian but impressive.

ZODIAC (film, 2007)

The director David Fincher is now acknowledged as one of the most ambitious and creative talents at work in Hollywood today, always demonstrating a commendable refusal to repeat himself. If Zodiac is firmly in the well-worn serial killer idiom, it nevertheless brings several unusual elements to bear in its tale of the real-life Zodiac Killer who terrified San Francisco in the late 1960s and 1970s, opening up a correspondence with the newspapers – just as his Victorian predecessor Jack the Ripper did with the police. The playing from a first-rate cast is exemplary, but Robert Downey Jr (as so often) steals the show with his larger-than-life reporter. Despite the measured, low-key approach taken by Fincher to his material, Zodiac remains quietly riveting.