From the desert landscape of the deep south of Australia to the green and deep rural Ireland, a long journey by Elliot and Helen in the hope that the amnesiac protagonist will recover his memory, is the center of the six chapters of the second season of The
Tourist.
Rarely did Mies Van der Rohe's statement “less is more” find better accommodation in the two seasons of the adventures and misadventures of Elliot and Helen.
A minimal Ireland with scattered houses and farms shows more violence than one might imagine in those places.
Of course, then events like those in Puerto Hurraco, in Badajoz, are remembered, and the village praise inevitably collapses.
The excellent series created by Harry and Jack Williams, shown on HBO Max, transcends the two essential components, violence and beer, framing them in a story of mortal rivalry of two families although without Romeo and Juliet, as Karina sang.
A hatred that has been carried on for two generations and in which Elliot is involved shortly after arriving in his native Ireland.
Someone had recommended to him in Australia that perhaps returning to his country of origin would help him recover his lost memory, in addition to fleeing from the cruel persecution of the fat Billy Nixon (Ólafur Darri Ólafsson), which, as he senses, is an adjustment of accounts for his mafia past.
The action also includes certain features of Greek tragedy and nineteenth-century melodrama that, however, are not excessive and flow with a certain logic.
To this we should add a series of colorful secondary characters, such as the local psychopathic police officer, Elliot's mother and matriarch of the clan or the patriarch of the rival family, characters that allow us to distance ourselves from the heartthrob and the lady played by wonderful actors in an Ireland. little known and in which it is demonstrated that the passions unleashed are universal.
Nothing to do with
Furies
, the French series created by Jean-Yves Arnaud and Yoann Legave (Netflix) in which violence is constant and the plot that attempts to justify it is banal.
It proposes an immersion in a hypothetical underworld of Paris where two brave ladies wander, giving and receiving incredible beatings.
It is not known whether this preponderance of female roles is a consequence of a misunderstanding of Me Too or the frivolity of some screenwriters who only aspire to
épater les bourgeois.
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