It is the best new show of the fall. It's a rapturous mix of absurdly fairy-tale-romance and frantic modern complications, set in the picturesque drear of Yorkshire and brought to life by masterfully shaded performances.
It seems impossible to say enough for the unfailing wit and nuance of Sally Wainwright's script, or for the skill that shaped this mix of family melodrama and romantic comedy into the marvelous brew it is.
Television simply doesn't get warmer or fuzzier than Last Tango in Halifax, but the reason the six-part series works so well is that its sweetness is not unalloyed.
When it’s the two leads, the effect is utterly charming. But the circumstances that set all this in motion, while relegated to the background, tend to occasionally get in the way.
It’s treacle, but it’s distinguished by several things, beginning with its relatively dry style and careful modulation of tone and volume--even the shouting and the car chases are discreetly tasteful.