Lapses into mawkishness and soapy tedium
4 / 10
Plot-wise, though, the show is far more diffuse and meandering than either the film or the novel. Characters are thinly drawn in Welsh’s baggy book; it’s as if the story has been castrated, all its cynical, tough, jagged wit, all its fuck-you attitude lopped off. Instead, it’s ploddingly literal, often lapsing into mawkishness and soapy tedium – repeatedly ramming its social conscience down our throats, theatrically it’s almost in Blood Brothers territory, although it’s significantly less emotionally effective. And it suffers from a fatal lack of momentum – each time it starts to get going, another pointless song turns up to bring it grinding to a halt again.
