Snowpiercer - Season 1

An Essay in the Continual Disappointments to be Found by the Absence of Sean Bean

2/5

Spoilers

Mrs. C. and I like to watch a variety of TV programmes, each of us choosing a programme to share. Some, like my choice of Star Trek, are long running and fairly consistent in what you receive. Some, like Mrs. C.'s choices of Jane the Virgin or Schitt's Creek, are short lived and varied. On film nights, with an hour occasionally spare before bed, we like to opt for a wild card series. Perhaps an old favourite with a new series out, or something that takes our fancy whilst plumbing the depths of Netflix.

On one such evening we perchanced upon an advert featuring the incomparable Sean Bean. It was called Snowpiercer. The concept was fun, a single train running around the globe in a man-made ice age, and there was a promise of mystery. But more importantly, there was a promise of Sean Bean. Now, it is important to note the 'Sean Bean' aspect of this narrative whilst you sit reading the remainder of this review, wondering to youself "Why did they keep watching?"

Sean. Bean.

The first series began promising enough. The show is not merely about these final survivors on their endless train journey; it is also a diatribe on class distinctions with an initial mystery thrown in for good measure. There are first class passengers, all rich and snobby; there are second class passengers, quite happy not to be third class; there are these third class passengers, making the train run or drinking coffee in the drab canteen; and there are the 'tailies', people who broke onto the train without a ticket to save themselves from certain frozen oblivion. Plus, there are a few murders. It's kind of like Great British Railway Journeys if it were entirely filmed in the Highlands and Michael Portillo occasionally fought his fellow passengers with a tiny hatchet.

As the ten-part series continued, cracks in my enjoyment appeared with relentless fury. By episode four I was mildly perturbed; by episode six, sighing heavily to myself; by episode eight, wishing a long painful death on each passenger. A core component of the plotting seems to be that the writers will create a situation and then have the characters choose the least logical option possible as their solution. At one point, a rich (unlikeable) family's twenty-something (unlikeable) daughter is found to be behind a series of (very welcome) murders. Rather than lock her in the freezer draw, like others have been previously, or even 'freeze-executed', she is put under house arrest. On a train. And then allowed to visit other carriages, as I assume the 'house' referred to was the whole train.

There is a great mystery too about the size of this train which, as the series dragged on, began to bother me. It is (was) one-thousand-and-one carriages long. Pretty big, hey? But then, they continually mention a litany of carriages on this train which make the maths seem questionable. Firstly, there are a large amount of passengers; up to fifty in first, with at least a carriage each. I would guess a further hundred in second, each with a larg-ish room (presumably up to eight, maybe ten, per carriage). The third class passengers do all the jobs so that must be close to two-hundred on there at a conservative estimate. Plus a indeterminate force of soldiers (let me get to that) and a confirmed four hundred in the tail.

They list animal holdings (for cows, pigs, sheep), apiaries, gardens, recreation rooms, kitchens, bars, gyms, storage, a school, a medical centre, endless riot carriages and prison spaces, interview rooms, offices, and apparently spare space for the four hundred. Each episode drops in the name of another enterprise on the train. We see the cattle die - they had a least two carriages and a third as a butchers. Plus, the four carriages of freezer draws filled with surplus passengers. It all became a bit ridiculous, unless the Snowpiercer was actually of Gallifreyan design. More spurious still was the potential of all of these location being mentioned, even though we kept seeing people crossing from back to front and only passing through a handful of these carriages.

There was a revolt in the series. The 'jack boot' security forces fought the tailies. I saw dozens of soldier bodies. In a combination of the space and logic problems, the four hundred tailies retreated, when the remaining five soldiers had one last pop at them, and declared that they had lost. Why? And then there were suddenly more soldiers, on this last-of-humanity train. Where from?

I fear I am getting towards a full gusto rant, so will demure and conclude. The series has moments of neatness and some fun ideas. Jennifer Connelly, despite at times being the bad guy, is oddly compelling and enough to sustain you. All of the other characters are mean spirited morons who make me sad to see as the last of us. What could have been a fun exploration of a unique setting, relishing in the limits of its premise, is ultimately a rather frustrating ride.

And what of Sean Bean? He appears in series two.

Directors: James Hawes, Sam Miller, Frederick E.O. Toye, Helen Shaver, & Everardo Gout

Writers: Graeme Manson, Donald Joh, Lizzie Mickery, Hiram Martinez, Chinaka Hodge, Aubrey Nealon, & Tina de la Torre

Composers: Bear McCreary & Bobby Krlic

Starring: Jennifer Connelly, Daveed Diggs, Mickey Sumner, Alison Wright, & (not) Sean Bean

Available to stream on Netflix