Dept Q review: Matthew Goode leads gritty Netflix thriller — a slow burn full of heart, mystery, and Scottish accents

Mint

17 hours ago

Netflix's latest crime drama 'Dept Q' takes the classic cold case formula and wraps it in a thick Scottish fog, full of brooding stares, buried secrets, and surprisingly warm moments.
Based on the novels by Danish writer Jussi Adler-Olsen, the show is relocated to a moody Edinburgh, with Matthew Goode stepping in as DCI Carl Morck – a detective haunted by the past, grumpy in the present, and possibly, just possibly, healing bit by bit.
The show kicks off with a bang – quite literally – as Carl and his only friend (Sorry, Carl!) and fellow officer Jamie Hardy are caught in a brutal shootout. Four months later, Carl is back at work, not to chase the person who pulled the trigger, but to dig through cold cases from a dim basement office no one wants to be in.
He's given Akram Salim (a quietly brilliant Alexej Mendelov) as his assistant, and their first case? The disappearance of prosecutor Merritt Lingaard (Chloe Pirrie), who's been presumed dead for years.
The main plot is gripping: unravel Merritt's story, and you unravel Carl's too. Alongside the mystery, the show builds a touching and often raw portrait of Carl's personal life — from arguments with his stepson Jasper to strange therapy sessions with Rachel (Kelly Macdonald), who might be his therapist or maybe something more.
Goode plays him with such prickly charm that you can't help but root for him, even when he's acting like a total pain.
Matthew Goode is truly the heart of this show. He gives Carl layers: stubborn and closed-off, but with quiet empathy bubbling underneath. His chemistry with the rest of the cast — whether mentoring Rose, annoying Akram, or brooding about Hardy — feels natural and full of texture. You believe this man has lived a life full of regret, guilt, and grit.
Chloe Pirrie also delivers a standout performance. In flashbacks, Merritt isn't just a victim — she's a person shaped by trauma, power, and resilience. Pirrie brings a haunting vulnerability to her role. You feel her confusion, fear, and fire. It's not easy to make flashbacks feel urgent, but she pulls it off beautifully.
The show's visuals match the tone perfectly. The cinematography is crisp and atmospheric, with cold greys and glowing lamplight capturing both the bleakness of unsolved crimes and the quiet moments of connection. Edinburgh has never looked more haunting or oddly comforting. Each frame feels deliberate without being overly stylised.
The music is equally measured — subtle and atmospheric. It never tries too hard, but when it swells, you notice. It supports the story, rather than overtaking it, which feels just right for a show that's more about tension than twists.
The pacing is the only sticking point. While it opens strong, 'Dept Q' slows down around the middle. It never drags, but it does require patience. If you stick with it, though, it rewards you. Every scene, no matter how small, ends up mattering — especially in the final three episodes, where everything clicks into place.
'Dept Q' doesn't reinvent the detective drama, but it does deliver a rich, character-driven story with strong performances and enough mystery to keep you guessing. It's a slow burn, sure — but it burns well.
Final verdict: 3.5 stars out of 5. Worth a watch for crime fans who like a bit of depth with their drama.