A “very distasteful piece of work”: Harry Lloyd as Blackmailer “Peter Woodrow” on Inspector Lewis (2009)

“Harry Lloyd, you are so good at playing an annoying little weasel!”  I said this to “K” the night I finished watching for the first time “Counter Culture Blues,” an episode of Inspector Lewis (2009) in which Harry had a modest, almost disposable part as a sleazy university student named Peter Woodrow that nevertheless gave a further glimpse into his many shades of grey (with a tendency towards the dark-side). It may sound like a disparaging remark but because I’m so fond of the actor and his acting prowess and persuasiveness, and even that sometimes-squeaky voice, I meant it as quite a compliment. Harry Lloyd can be loveable one moment, hideous the next, and totally disarming as much as he is charming in nearly the same instant.  It’s like he’s able to flick some switch upon internal-command: his self-control is remarkable, and even more that he’s able to hone it to the extent that he is, using it to flesh out every role he inhabits, from the central to the liminal. 

When Harry Lloyd is on the screen or stage, you don’t know it’s Harry Lloyd.  You don’t see Harry Lloyd.  You see the character.  That, dear readers, is good acting.

Honorable or horrible, he nails his part each time.  His flexibility in characterizations is matched by his flexibility in facial expressions, which he alters with subtle nuances so miniscule that it’s impossible to tell just what it is that makes one face that appears to be content look like sheer loathing in another shot.  Perhaps we’ve mentioned much of this before on Lloydalists, but it’s well-worth repeating.

Quite enigmatic, this Harry Lloyd.  It’s no wonder he was scooped up to be in an Inspector Lewis episode of Masterpiece Mystery.

Is this student someone we can trust?  Or does that tightly-clutched-to-the-chest look intimate a guilty conscience that needs protecting?

Image: screen-cap from Inspector Lewis episode 3.4, “Counter Culture Blues.” © ITV Productions 2009.

In many ways, Harry Lloyd’s role in “Counter Culture Blues” shouldn’t be much of a surprise.  His “cameo” roles seem to run interference within the overarching narrative’s framework—a necessary contribution to television shows, to be sure.  His characters help prolong suspense and action; they distract the viewer from uncovering the truth too early; they offer a maliciously-delicious tidbit of human nature that is only sometimes a hyperbolized version of the truth.  Oftentimes, they are characters of quirk and comedy that, if we were allowed to glimpse them further in their private lives, would likely shock us with their untold secrets.

Like any other well-drawn character, even Harry’s smaller figures are something onto which to cling, if only for a little while, within the realm of good drama, action, comedy, or all of the above.  This role as Peter Woodrow positions Harry in Inspector Lewis quite clearly in a supporting role—but it’s a decent-sized enough one to add interests to an episode of the popular detective series that, to be honest, doesn’t have as much “oomph” (as we say in the proper parlance of blogging) as some other episodes.

The “Play”

Called a “mysterious,” “mind-blowing,” and “suspicious” episode (“Inspector…” PBS) of Inspector Lewis, “Counter Culture Blues” packs quite a pugnacious punch of activity in its plucky performance-laded episode.  Perhaps due to the flurry of activity, the metal music, and the frequent appearance of one seemingly unrelated character after another, within the first few minutes (or even half) of “Counter Culture Blues,” it is very unclear as to how Harry Lloyd’s character will play into the general plot of the episode.  After all, he makes his appearance first via an unsettling phone call and, being either persistent or increasingly stalkerish, pops out of the woodwork (of a church) when his call goes unanswered.

And so, the creepy and unwanted, if not mysterious, calls begin.

Image: screen-cap from Inspector Lewis episode 3.4, “Counter Culture Blues.” © ITV Productions 2009.

Yet, this episode has little to do with a young creep or a church, although both provide background material for “Counter Culture Blues.”  This particular Inspector Lewis installment follows the mysterious, internal and social lives of an aging superstar rock band, the kind that is now dispersed, living behind high private gates, committing who knows what atrocities.  Without giving too much away, our story involves a rock singer named Esmé Ford (Joanna Lumley; singing voice by Maggie Bell) who, without warning, “pops up” on the estate of her former bandmate and lover Richie Maguire (David Hayman) thirty-five years after she supposedly committed suicide (and left a note about it).  Meanwhile, Richie’s in trouble for game-hunting on Sundays—a complaint lodged against him by the local Reverend Armstrong (Nick Malinowski), who just wants his Sabbath services to continue uninterrupted by the echo of gunshots.

The officers called in to handle the matter are, of course, Inspector Robert Lewis (Kevin Whately) and his tenacious angular side-kick Sergeant James Hathaway (Laurence Fox).  Long story short, Lewis and Hathaway find their relatively pedestrian case of “illegal shooting on a Sunday” turning into something much more complicated, twisted, and sinister.  Not only does the sudden reunion of the band Midnight Addiction bring with it some ghoulish crimes of the past that have been trudged up with the return to the music studio, but a circle of seemingly unrelated figures begin to crop up, each a mysterious, suspicious presence in a thickening plot that involves a runaway teenager, an “insane” former bandmate, Richie’s daughter, the hired help, an ex-roadie, a music professor, the band’s peculiar agent Vernon Oxe (Simon Callow), and the sneaky pest of a university student, Harry Lloyd’s Pete.

Along the way, we find poisonous spiders, a swirling oversized “garbage disposal” that makes the disappearance of bodies seem all-too-convenient, clues in a dead teen’s shoebox, three odd deaths, mistaken identities (that involve the use of a wig!), a shady “foreign” couple who serve as hired help, surprising family connections, and the erasure of an entire musical recording dedicated to Richie’s daughter, Kitten (Perdita Weeks).

The Role & The Thickening Plot

In our “tragic play,” and as aforementioned, Harry’s character first enters the stage via proxy.  The medium?  A cell phone.  A pretty young woman (Perdita Weeks, later revealed as Kitten Maguire) is playing the organ in a church, practicing or de-stressing with the instrument, when her phone rings.  It’s easy to sense her discomfort—the moment of “should I answer it or shouldn’t I?” carried heavily in her body language. 

Giving in to that bright screen of “Peter Woodrow” and a phone number, she picks up, but this is not going to be a sweet exchange between lovers or friends or even kind acquaintances. When she asks him to stop calling her, insisting “I’ve dealt with you,” he responds with the smooth-yet-smug tone sneaking out the receiver, “that was last week.”

“Are you following me?” she asks him.  “Answer me, you bloody creep,” she yells into the phone.  And then, she hangs up.  But this is a persistent bugger she’s dealing with—more persistent than the lethal spider to come later in the episode.  As soon as she puts down the phone, Pete strides confidently out of some crevice of the church. “Well,” he says in a genuinely discomforting voice, still clutching his phone “that’s not very polite.”  Harry here channels a Uriah Heep so brilliantly—malicious in feel and tone without giving any rational cause for one’s petrified and perturbed reaction—that we daresay that tiny bit of evil that was to grow in the following couple of years in order to form “Viserys Targaryen” was giving off a certain glint in his eyes.  Here, the Inspector Lewis editors cut away before we get a stronger feel for Pete’s character, and it’s quite some time before we begin to learn much more of use about him and his ties to Kitten.

Harry's persistent Peter pops up, startling Kitten Maguire, and saying she's "not very polite."
Image: screen-cap from Inspector Lewis episode 3.4, “Counter Culture Blues.” © ITV Productions 2009.

It’s Hathaway who, getting an odd feeling that something is amiss with Kitten Maguire, begins sniffing around in the young music student’s life and comes across some interesting (to say the least) discoveries.  Aside from the fact that Kitten is a protégé of the famous Dr. Samantha Wheeler (Isobel Middleton), whose presence also has other ties to the case, Peter Woodrow is a fellow student who seems to be stalking and/or blackmailing the rocker’s daughter.  Sergeant Hathaway is first tipped of Kitten’s discomfort when noting a call from Peter (about halfway through the “Counter Culture Blues” episode) and, following his instinct, decides to hunt down this frequent caller, who seems more unwanted than a telemarketer, in the flesh.

On the university campus, Harry looks quite convincing as the typical college student.  Hair combed to the side, pile of books clutched to his chest, he walks with the air of one knowing exactly where he’s going.  “You’ve got a minute, Peter?” comes Hathaway’s voice to the back of the hustling Woodrow. “Actually, no I haven’t,” Peter replies, as he is unexpectedly stopped on campus.  His look back at the Sergeant is actually relatively cute, surprised, even vulnerable.  The creepy-voiced church caller from earlier in the episode seems to have evaporated—at least temporarily.  When Hathaway persists to follow Peter and asks that they go back and talk at the student’s place, Pete looks visibly shaken—but no more than any person who would be stopped by the police.  In other words, Harry does not overplay or underplay his role.  He reacts in time to the events of the moment, as they unfold for us onscreen, and so, like him or hate him, we believe his character of Peter Woodrow as a realistic one.

Sure, he looks every bit the average university student (and perhaps a bit fearful, too)--but is he something more?  Here, Peter is stopped when Hathaway calls his name across the campus.

Image: screen-cap from Inspector Lewis episode 3.4, “Counter Culture Blues.” © ITV Productions 2009.

Peter’s first mistake, though, comes in lying about his class schedule.  Hathaway is very well-versed in the comings and goings of Mr. Woodrow, it appears.  And the Sergeant has to get back to a more pressing case at the Maguires’ mansion that includes the death of a teenage orphan just outside the mansion’s front gates—he has no time for chewing the fat with this sleazy-looking student who is clutching those files of his far too tightly against his chest not to be hiding something.

“You’re blackmailing Kitten Maguire—tell me about that”: Hathaway’s already had it with this punk and he’s just met him. After claiming not to know who Kitten Maguire is, Peter says he wants a lawyer.  “I’m sure you do, but I’ve forgotten to bring one,” Hathaway says in a no-nonsense attitude that foils Peter’s in-over-his-head scrubby scoundrel role perfectly.  The law enforcer is certain that Kitten is frightened by Peter, and wants to know why: he isn’t dealing with this amateur.  Harry’s smug look, too, suggests the fearful-yet-creepy attitude his character is met to convey at this particular moment.  It’s a well-acted, albeit brief, scene that helps the plot begin to roll around at a slow-but-easy pace.  And when Peter is afraid to look Hathaway in the eyes—even when the Sergeant gets right into the young man’s face, attempting to figure out whether or not all the finery in Peter’s room has been purchased with blackmail money from Kitten Maguire—we get more than a sneaking suspicion that this student is definitely guilty of something.

But—could he really be a killer?

Hathaway seems to think so and, honestly, aren’t killers almost always the kind of spineless little weasels with mean streaks that, in the long run, seem more fuss than bother but tend to have an unseen dark side?  I won’t reveal just how complicit or involved is Harry Lloyd’s character in this mystery drama, but suffice to say that Hathaway and Lewis have a good time describing him.  “You are dirty, Woodrow,” Hathaway stresses before he backs-off the student, making it clear that he’s on to Peter’s schemes.

“You are dirty, Woodrow…” Hathaway makes it clear that he’s on to Peter’s schemes.

Image: screen-cap from Inspector Lewis episode 3.4, “Counter Culture Blues.” © ITV Productions 2009.

Later, when Hathaway reteams with Inspector Lewis, he has a few choice words to articulate to his partner the interrogation at the university.  Hathaway describes Peter’s discomfort and the “interrogation” at the university quite amusingly: “I felt his [Peter’s] collar and he squealed for Mummy. Very distasteful piece of work, even the sound of his voice made me want to give him a dry slap.”

That’s about all Lewis seems to need to hear—and, really, what could be more enticing than following up a lead that may allow a law enforcer to get out some frustration and give a “distasteful piece of work” a much-needed “dry slap”?!  The next thing we know, Lewis and Hathaway are following Peter around, and the student claims, “this is harassment.”

His words are a combination of annoyance, fear, and indignation—the latter being particularly ironic, since he’s been harassing Kitten Maguire all along.

Hathaway introduces “my superior office, Inspector Lewis,” who says, “hello, Peter: let’s talk about this Kitten business.”  Peter, disgruntled, does not want to discuss anything.

Image: screen-cap from Inspector Lewis episode 3.4, “Counter Culture Blues.” © ITV Productions 2009.

Here, There Be Spoilers!

Skip to next section—“Final Act”—if you don’t want to know the extent of Harry’s role in the murder-mystery of “Counter Culture Blues.”

One pivotal and perfectly-acted moment in “Counter Culture Blues” is when Peter Woodrow, walking across campus, gets flanked by Lewis and Hathaway.  As Hathaway introduces the student to Lewis, the pacing of the three parallel walkers does not slow.  The three match strides and stony faces rather impressively in a scene that feels natural, unrehearsed, and as tense as it needs to be.  If Harry’s Peter had stopped on the spot, we would not have believed him capable of anything as murder: he’d be too fearful, too spineless to even deal with an impromptu interrogation without any solid evidence.  If he had sped up faster and tried to escape, it would have seemed a terribly cliché moment: the “chase” scene in which Lewis and Hathaway would have to troll after this thug, who certainly has no hope of escaping, therefore delaying their chances to solve the bigger mystery of murder and not just blackmail.

Instead, the interrogation takes place with a man-matching-man-matching-man walk.  But, of course, the middle-man is totally blocked by stronger, larger, braver men.  Plus, Lewis and Hathaway have already felt the fiery wrath of Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent (Rebecca Front) breathing down their necks to wrap up this celebrity-involving case yesterday. So, when Peter keeps interjecting with such flimsy excuses and annoying commentaries, like “this is outrageous!,” Lewis gets physical and threatening, suggesting that Kitten should’ve taken a “hammer” to her blackmailer.  Ouch.  But talk about getting to the bottom of things in one fell swoop!

Plus, Peter Woodrow, squealing and slippery as ever, may just deserve it.  Harry’s voice, physical maneuvers, and shifty and ambiguous looks certainly does a good enough job making us want to smack the little scoundrel around at least enough to make him run.

Finally, pinned against a stone wall of a building by the bulldoggish Lewis, Peter begins telling the story of a stoned (on mushrooms) Kitten who’d taken the sober (or so he insists!) Peter to the studio one night, where her father Richie was recording an album of songs dedicated to her.  Kitten apparently knew all about them, although her father thought she did not.  Something about them must have been displeasing to her (watch the episode to see how things unravel within the Maguire family).  According to Peter, Kitten was so stoned she didn’t know what she was doing; “she wiped the master.  The whole album—it was gone.”  Peter got scared when Richie went postal the next morning, so he persuaded Kitten, despite her protestations, not to tell her father what had happened (apparently out of concern for her safety).  Harry’s presentation and explanation of the sequence of events has the right amount of relief and runaway-look we’d expect from this young and grubby guy who’s gotten in over his head. 

Tired of Peter’s “this is outrageous” exclamations, Lewis gets physical and threatening, suggesting that Kitten should’ve taken a “hammer” to her blackmailer. Here, Peter looks out of his element and clearly frightened.

Image: screen-cap from Inspector Lewis episode 3.4, “Counter Culture Blues.” © ITV Productions 2009.

Once the words are out, he seems to shrink a little—an expected, realistic relief. “Hey, I’ve done what you asked…I told you what happened.”  Peter seems to feel a bit of reassurance at telling the truth.  But Lewis thinks Peter is far too happy to tell about something that only lead to a series of dastardly things, including three murders thus far (although Peter is unaware of the event’s repercussions), and the resurrection of a woman who was supposed to have drowned over 30 years before.

So, in these final few moments on screen, Harry’s Peter Woodrow becomes just a typical overreacher.  Was he doing Kitten a favor in the beginning?  Did he take his altruism (if we’re liberal with the word) too far?  Was he ever a Knight in Shining (yet smarmy) armor?  Or was he always a greedy opportunist? 

That’s the last we see of Harry Lloyd, whose role as “Peter Woodrow” has prolonged the investigation of foul-play long enough. 

“Hey, I’ve done what you asked…I told you what happened,” Peter concludes his story, apparently feeling relief at telling the truth. His triumphant look belies a confidence being restored—but it is short-lived once Lewis puts the twerp in his place.

Image: screen-cap from Inspector Lewis episode 3.4, “Counter Culture Blues.” © ITV Productions 2009.

Final Act

One fan and blogger named Ruth, noting a few worth-mentioning actors populating “Counter Culture Blues,” calls the casting of Harry as Peter Woodrow a “disturbing bit of casting,” as he also played Will Scarlett in her “much-loved Robin Hood television show, and the character of Peter is about as far from Will’s heroics as one could imagine. The guy positively made my skin crawl” (Ruth).  It sounds like Harry did his job well. Ruth goes on to note that the up-side “to Lloyd’s character being so smarmy? It made Hathaway look really, really good when he took him down several notches for the blackmailing scheme” (Ruth). I tend to agree!

Another blogger and Inspector Lewis notes that Harry’s Peter “shows no conscience” (Vic), but I found Harry’s character to be more a realistic, average guy caught in a self-imposed bad-spot (due to greed and lack of foresight). It’s his realism and ambiguity that makes our “skin crawl,” as Ruth calls it, because we recognize so much of him as the truth of other people who are blackmailers, opportunists, and all-around creeps. 

Harry’s Peter Woodrow is, in short, a character whose ultimate purpose in this episode of Inspector Lewis is to prolong the action.  He’s there to throw a wrench in the scheme, to stir things up, to be the typical “red herring.”  If this were an Alfred Hitchcock production, Lloyd’s opportunistic student would be “Counter Culture Blues”’ McGuffin.

Harry seems to gravitate towards complex characters who seem to defy definition as well as categories of either clearly “good” or “evil.”  These are characters worth playing, watching, remembering, and believing in (whether we like them or not).  They may be brief roles, but they are rich in potential.

Thankfully, Harry’s skills enable the richness to be drawn forth from even the minor leagues of acting.  From part of the “ensemble cast” of distracting figures running amok in the murder investigating, it’s Peter Woodrow’s snake-like voice, charm, and even slithery squirm that are quite remembered once “Counter Culture Blues” comes to an end, and the final curtain is drawn.

Extra Morsels for the Road

Here’s a little bit of trivia: David Wayman, who plays Richie Maguire, and although he has no scenes with Harry in Inspector Lewis, re-teamed with Harry in Henry IV, Part I (2012), where Wayman played the Earl of Worcester.  Wayman was also in a Season 3 episode of Robin Hood (2009), but by then, Harry Lloyd had left the series.

And more trivia! Perdita Weeks (who plays Kitten, the girl Harry’s Peter Woodrow is blackmailing) played Clara—his wife—in Great Expectations.  From loathing to love—what a transformation between the pair!

Lloydalists, weigh-in yourselves!  The entire Inspector Lewis season 3, episode 4 featuring Harry Lloyd as “Peter Woodrow” is available for free streaming (at least in the U.S.) on Hulu.com.  See here.

Works Cited & Consulted

“Counter Culture Blues.” Inspector Lewis. Season 3, episode 4. Dir. Bill Anderson. Perf. Kevin Whately, et al. 14 March 2009. ITV Productions. TV.

“Inspector Lewis Counter Culture Blues Synopsis.” Masterpiece on PBS. PBS.org. Web. 7 Aug. 2012. <http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/lewis/countercultureblues_synopsis.html>.

 “Inspector Lewis: Counter Culture Blues.” The Internet Movie Database. IMDB.com. Web. 22 July 2012. <http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1398216/combined>.

Ruth. “Inspector Lewis: Counter Culture Blues.” Booktalk & More. Blog. Blogspot.com. Web. 30 Aug. 2010. Web. <http://booktalkandmore.blogspot.co.uk/2010/08/inspector-lewis-counter-culture-blues.html>.

Vic. “PBS Masterpiece Mystery: A Review of Counter Culture Blues, an Inspector Lewis Mystery.” Jane Austen’s World. Blog. Wordpress.com. 29 Aug. 2010. Web. 7 Aug. 2012. <http://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2010/08/29/pbs-masterpiece-mystery-a-review-of-counter-culture-blues-an-inspector-lewis-mystery/>.

~ Written & Posted by C ~