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Der Kommissar - Tod eines Buchhändlers
episode 67
West Germany 1973
produced by Helmut Ringelmann for Neue Münchner Fernsehproduktion/ZDF
directed by Theodor Grädler
starring Erik Ode, Reinhard Glemnitz, Günther Schramm, Fritz Wepper, Helma Seitz, Judy Winter, Peter Carsten, Werner Bruhns, Pierre Franckh, Eva Brumby, Renate Grosser, Marilene von Bethmann, Maria Brockerhoff, Willy Schäfer, Marius Reisse
written by Herbert Reinecker, series created by Helmut Ringelmann, Herbert Reinecker, title theme by Herbert Jarczyk
TV-series Der Kommissar, Harry Klein
review by Mike Haberfelner
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It was pretty much common knowledge that book dealer Kapp (Werner
Bruhns) went to Munich each Saturday to get roaringly drunk, then upon
arriving home well after midnight he'd beat his wife Herta (Judy Winter)
up. Only this Saturday he didn't come home but drowned in the river -
which at first looked like an accident until inspector Keller (Erik Ode) and his
team (Reinhard Glemnitz, Günther Schramm, Fritz Wepper) start their
investigations and in no time at all learn that Kapp's 17 year old
apprentice Roland (Pierre Franckh) was madly in love with Herta and
actually stood out across the street from her home every Saturday night to
... protect her from afar or something. Both Kapp and his wife were aware
of that, too, and Kapp mocked both Roland and his wife for it. So
naturally, he's a prime suspect, and, spoiler, ultimately turns out to be
the killer, if with the most noble of motives, but to stretch the episode
to just under one hour, a subplot is added about Kapp's brother (Peter
Carsten), who has had an affair with Herta and who tried to kill his
brother by getting him really drunk - on exactly the day he usually got
really drunk anyways - and hoping for an accident to happen ... Now
screenwriter Herbert Reinecker wasn't too clever a writer on the best of
days, but at times his screenplays came across as rather ok murder
mysteries at least - but this wasn't one of these days I'm afraid, as this
episode really never finds its own voice and just seems to be cobbled
together from genre mainstays, with clichées serving as glue. Basically,
the writing just seems super-lazy to the point of both un-interested and
un-interesting, and unfortunately there's little in terms of direction or
action to lift this above below average, a central problem being Pierre
Franckh playing yet another teenaged murderer of passion, pretty much a
staple of 1970s crime TV. Sure, still at least moderate fun if watched
through a nostalgic lense, but good - this is not.
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review © by Mike Haberfelner
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