The actor or director read the character card wrong - it's Morse, not Morose. But I suppose that's the easiest way to portray a deep-thinking intellectual these days. Forget dialogue, just give us long shots of brooding stares out of windows in the pouring rain with everyone's favourite suicide aria from Madame Butterfly playing on a scratchy old LP in the background. And of course allude to the requisite religious struggle. (Cliché after cliché.) Any more long-faced and this Morse would turn into a bloodhound.
Not saved by the laughably convoluted plot which involves trysts convened by crossword puzzle clues.
Not saved by the laughably convoluted plot which involves trysts convened by crossword puzzle clues.