Sir Ken says adieu to Wallander with a masterclass in overacting: CHRISTOPHER STEVENS reviews this weekend's TV 

Wallander

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Penelope Keith's At Her Majesty's Service 

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When Kenneth Branagh does an audition, he doesn’t muck about. Staggering about a field, howling like a loon, ripping his clothes off, bellowing gibberish at his weeping daughter — this was ‘Acting’ with all the dials turned to up to maximum-plus-ten.

You might have thought you were watching Wallander (BBC1), but Sir Ken was staking his claim to play King Lear. If the National Theatre doesn’t come calling, it won’t be his fault.

A theatre prodigy, he was Henry V at Stratford-upon-Avon aged just 23, and Hamlet at 27. 

Viewers who watched all three episodes of this, the final series of Wallander, might feel surprised by the speed at which senile dementia overtook the Swedish detective

Now in his mid-50s, he’s just about old enough to tackle Shakespeare’s mad monarch, who spends most of the play raging through a wasteland in his nightshirt, roaring into a storm.

Sir Ken knows every line of the tragedy.

He directed Richard Briers in the role, 26 years ago, and he’s supported great thespians playing Lear, Sir John Gielgud and Paul Schofield among them, as they frothed at the mouth and shook the scenery.

It’s about time he had a go himself. But until he gets that phone call, at least he can make sure that he’s never guilty of underacting.

Viewers who watched all three episodes of this, the final series of Wallander, might feel surprised by the speed at which senile dementia overtook the Swedish detective. It’s only a couple of weeks, after all, since he was sprinting after assassins and scaling 50ft ladders in South Africa.

His doctor did warn him that his strain of early-onset Alzheimer’s was particularly aggressive, but the symptoms seemed to worsen throughout every scene.

In one key interview, quizzing his son-in-law about a lot of money that had conveniently evaporated, the inspector started by forgetting the odd word, and ended by babbling and drooling, as he tried to leave the room through the window.

When Krister Henriksson played these scenes, in the Swedish-language version of Wallander (shown on BBC4 two years ago), he was far more restrained. The impact was all the greater for it.

Thankfully, Benjamin Caron’s directing was a good deal more subtle than Sir Ken’s performance. A succession of visual hints described the state of Wallander’s mind, without the need for wordy explanations. As he drove home in the grey Scandinavian rain, one wiper on his Volvo started to drag — the windscreen was clear, then smeared ... clear, then smeared.

In one key interview, quizzing his son-in-law about a lot of money that had conveniently evaporated, the inspector started by forgetting the odd word, and ended by babbling and drooling, as he tried to leave the room through the window (pictured Kenneth Brannagh as Kurt Wallander)

Later, the policeman sat morosely, as all Swedish detectives must, over a cup of black coffee, and touched a white sugar cube to the liquid. One drop darkened its edges — the next soaked it through, making the sugar seem to decay in Wallander’s fingers.

Even that irritating mobile phone of his, with its ringtone like a handful of glass beads tinkling down a staircase, took on a new significance. It was the sound of Wallander losing his marbles.

We’ll miss him. This was certainly his last case — not only did he hand in his police badge, but his creator, Henning Mankell, died last year from cancer.

There were no wild histrionics as the perfectly poised Penelope Keith began her tour of the royal residences, in At Her Majesty’s Service (C4). 

The closest she came to a display of emotion was a slight tut-tutting as she explored the rooftop at Windsor, where there’s a gangway that was constructed to allow Queen Victoria to walk unseen by the public from her private rooms to St George’s Chapel for Sunday services.

The safety rail barely came to Dame Penelope’s knee, but that’s hardly surprising, since the Queen was barely 5ft tall. What displeased the actress more was the absence of a canopy, to keep the rain off.

This four-part series began well, but made the elementary mistake of trying to cram in too much. We could easily have spent an hour at Windsor, with the cameras granted access to corners never normally seen by the public, including the private quarters of some of Her Majesty’s loyal servants.

Instead, Dame Penelope bustled off to ride on the royal barge, and learn about heraldry, and meet Jessica Fellowes, the niece of Downton’s Lord Julian, who holds the post of Royal Herbstrewer (yes, there really is such a job!). What should have been engrossing became frothy and trivial.