Painted Lady (BBC miniseries)

When you think of crime fiction and Helen Mirren, it’s probably “Prime Suspect” that comes to mind, but in “Painted Lady” (BBC, 1997) she plays a much different role: faded ’60s singing star turned amateur sleuth to investigate the death of her dear friend — Sir Charles Stafford, who was killed during an apparent robbery attempt after having saved her life by giving her a place to live and recover from her career and lifestyle. He truly was like a father to her.

Maggie Sheridan decides to emerge from her cottage hideaway to pose as a Polish arts patron in search of a particular painting, which will help her find out who robbed Sir Charles. She and Sir Charles’ son, Sebastian, also need to find the painting because he rather desperately needs the money. They embark into a world of not just art but thievery, deception, violence and sex. She turns to Susie and Oliver, her sister and brother-in-law, to help her enter the high-stakes art world; her relationship with them makes an interesting side story. One can imagine that putting up with a sister like Maggie, what with her pierced nose and omnipresent cigarette, would take patience and understanding.

The solution is not immediately obvious, and since this was originally a miniseries the story is more complex than a 90-minute movie would permit. Mirren clearly threw herself into the role with all of Maggie’s wild abandon — I read somewhere that the part was written especially for her, and it shows. Good story, strong production values, great acting — perfect for a long weekend or a time when you’re stuck at home in bad weather or in bed with a cold.