Ukraine, European Intrigue Deja View

In the early 1980's a British Masterpiece Theatre Series," Reilly, Ace of Spies," aired.

Set in the early 1900's when London still had horse drawn cabs, but navies were modern enough to have steel ships and oil driven motors, the series begins with Sidney Rosentblum on his way to Odessa by train with a report on Russian oil drilling in Ukraine and the Persian crescent.  For anyone reading today's headlines about Ukraine, and the Black Sea fleet, the Russian response and European involvement, this is fascinating beyond mere description.

Having just entered acute withdrawal from "Foyle's War" the Phantom was eager to acquire a new agent to staunch the bleeding, feed the hunger for a new series and Reilly is it.

At one point, a British spymaster, who has been grievously offended by Rosenblum's escapades, which included having an affair with a British clergyman's wife, sputters that Rosenblum is simply not the sort of agent the Foreign Office ought to have in its employ, because he is "Not a gentleman, likely a socialist and most certainly a Jew."

Rosenblum, who later acquires the identity of Reilly (the Irish being perhaps the only people less socially acceptable to the upper crust than the Jews) shrugs off the offended Brit. He has no time for or interest in the effete sensibilities of the British upper classes. The game is afoot and he is in the game.

It must be admitted, in the end, "Foyle's War" for all its virtues, cannot match Reilly. Foyle himself is a wonderful, counter intuitive hero--he is not handsome, dashing or young, like Reilly, but he is subversive and has qualities we all wish for. He listens quietly, respectfully, never offending, always humble,(very Columbo like, in this respect) and by his very non threatening nature, he gets people to talk, to say more than they had intended. Toward the end of each episode, he has an Agatha Christie like drawing room moment where he strings together his formulation of exactly how the crime happened, by whom, and for what reason. 

The problem with Foyle is that the response in every case is the murderer, faced with the accusation, immediately breaks down, admits all, tries to explain that what he did in murdering whomever was reasonable and is then hauled off by the Bobbies to prison. But in most cases, the case Foyle outlined, though true, is by no means incontestable, especially in the last episode of Season 7, where an upper crust scion, admits to having murdered his wife 20 years earlier, an act witnessed by his son whose testimony about what he saw as an eight year old is presumably unassailable in a court of law. So, why bother protesting? I'll simply go sheep like to prison and the gallows.

"Foyle" is also populated by suffering people who have been burned and scarred by war and whose stiff upper lips prevents them from saying anything at all, even in the general or evasive terms most Americans would use to describe what's eating them. Anthony Horowitz may be depicting a characteristic of Brits, but it does get tiresome, all these mute, suffering people who just simply cannot express themselves, because it would be, well you know, not proper.

Reilly suffers from none of this. And the plots are far less predictable. In "Foyle" you can always count on the most innocent, couldn't-be-involved-person presented being guilty as hell. Once you get the beat, you can predict "Foyle." The formula becomes too pat. It's still wonderful to watch, the way Sherlock Holmes is wonderful to read, because you know Foyle will figure it out, then put it all together in a wonderfully neat summary, often picking up on some subtle clue--the woman knew the man took sugar in his coffee without asking, ergo, she must be his wife. 

Reilly romps through the Europe and he's a joy to watch, flaunting convention, capable of showmanship and brashness, but also at home in the verbal jousting purveyed by the upper classes.  And the history, which was "Foyle's" strong point, is not abandoned in Reilly.
So "Foyle" is done. Reilly is on. The game is afoot.