Jenna Coleman isn't exactly a stranger to high-stakes drama. You've seen her in The Serpent, Victoria, and Doctor Who, but The Jetty feels different. It’s gritty. It’s damp. It feels like that specific brand of British winter where the cold gets into your bones and stays there. When the four-part series hit BBC One and iPlayer, it didn't just drop another police procedural into the mix; it basically deconstructed why we are so obsessed with "dead girl" stories in the first place.
Honestly, the setup sounds like something you’ve heard a dozen times before. A fire at a boat club in a scenic Lancashire town. A cold case involving a missing girl. A detective who might be too close to the flame. But writer Cat Jones—who previously worked on Harlots—subverts the tropes almost immediately. This isn't just about "who did it." It’s about the messy, often uncomfortable overlap between teenage "romance" and what we now rightfully call predatory behavior.
Why The Jetty Hits Different
Most crime shows treat the past like a puzzle. You find the right piece, click it into place, and the mystery is solved. The Jetty treats the past like a flood. It’s messy. It ruins things. Detective Ember Manning, played with a sort of weary brilliance by Coleman, is trying to solve a current arson case while the ghost of a twenty-year-old disappearance starts haunting her every move.
The show is set in a fictionalized version of a lakeside town, and the water is everywhere. It’s a character. It hides things. The cinematography makes sure you feel that suffocating humidity. Unlike those glossy American procedurals where the labs are neon-lit and everyone has perfect hair, The Jetty feels lived-in. The houses are slightly cramped. The lighting is naturalistic. It feels like a place where people actually live, which makes the underlying horror of the plot much more effective.
Jenna Coleman and the Weight of Ember Manning
Ember is a widow. She’s a mother. She’s a cop. But mostly, she’s a woman realizing that her own history might be built on a foundation of lies. Coleman plays her with this internal vibration—like she’s constantly trying to keep a lid on a pot that’s about to boil over. You see it in the way she interacts with her daughter, Hannah. There’s a fear there. It’s the fear every parent in a small town has: that the things that happened to us will inevitably happen to them.
There’s a specific scene early on where Ember is looking at old photos. It’s not a "eureka" moment. It’s a moment of creeping dread. You can see the realization dawning on her face that the "cool older guys" from her youth weren't just guys—they were predators. This realization is the engine of the show.
The Problem with Small Town Secrets
Small towns in TV shows are usually shorthand for "everyone is a suspect." In The Jetty, the town represents a collective silence. The mystery involves a podcast investigator named Riz, played by Weruche Opia. She’s the outsider. She’s the one asking the questions that the locals have spent two decades pretending don't exist.
💡 You might also like: Kiss My Eyes and Lay Me to Sleep: The Dark Folklore of a Viral Lullaby
The dynamic between Ember and Riz is fascinating. Usually, in these shows, the cop and the journalist hate each other until the last ten minutes. Here, there’s a grudging respect because they’re both looking for a truth that the town’s patriarchy has worked very hard to bury.
It’s Not Just a Whodunnit
If you’re looking for a fast-paced action thriller with car chases, this isn't it. The Jetty is a slow burn. It’s interested in the "grooming" culture of the early 2000s. It looks at how society used to view age-gap relationships and holds up a mirror to how damaging those power dynamics actually were.
- The 20-year-old missing persons case of Amy Knight.
- The present-day fire at the boat club.
- The illicit relationship between a teacher and a student.
These three threads aren't just parallel; they are knotted together. The show asks: when does a "fling" become a crime? And why did we let it happen for so long?
Realism Over Flashy Twists
One thing that genuinely stands out is the dialogue. It doesn't feel scripted by a committee trying to sound "edgy." It feels like North England. People talk over each other. They use slang. They avoid the point. Cat Jones has a real ear for how people communicate when they’re trying to hide their shame.
The supporting cast is equally strong. Archie Renaux and Tom Glynn-Carney bring a layer of complexity to characters that could have easily been one-dimensional villains or red herrings. You’re never quite sure who to trust, not because they’re all "evil," but because they’re all compromised by their own memories.
The Impact of the "Me Too" Era on British TV
The Jetty is very much a product of the post-Me Too world. It doesn't lecture the audience, though. It just shows the long-term fallout of trauma. It’s about how a single event in 2004 can still be ruining lives in 2024. This isn't "preachy" TV; it’s just honest. It acknowledges that for many women, the "glory days" of their youth were actually quite terrifying in retrospect.
📖 Related: Kate Moss Family Guy: What Most People Get Wrong About That Cutaway
Managing the Plot’s Complexity
There are moments where the show gets a bit dense. You have to pay attention. If you’re scrolling on your phone while watching, you’re going to miss the significance of a specific name or a discarded photograph. It demands your focus.
The pacing might feel a bit sluggish to some in the second episode, but hang in there. The payoff in the final two episodes is worth the buildup. It’s not a "gotcha" ending that comes out of nowhere. It’s an ending that feels inevitable and tragic.
Is It Worth the Watch?
Basically, yes. If you liked Happy Valley or Broadchurch, this is in that same vein but with a more modern, feminist lens. It’s uncomfortable at times. It should be. It deals with sensitive subjects—sexual assault, grooming, and statutory rape—with a level of maturity that many other thrillers lack. It avoids being exploitative. It doesn't linger on the violence; it lingers on the silence that follows.
Technical Execution and Tone
The show was filmed around the Hollingworth Lake area in Greater Manchester. You can tell. The grey skies and the stillness of the water create a mood that stays with you long after the credits roll. The soundtrack is subtle. It doesn't tell you how to feel with booming orchestral swells. It just hums in the background like a low-grade anxiety attack.
- The first episode sets the hook with the boat club fire.
- The middle episodes expand the world and the history of the characters.
- The finale ties the emotional stakes to the criminal investigation.
It’s a tight four hours of television. In an era where shows are often bloated with eight or ten episodes just to fill a streaming quota, The Jetty’s brevity is its strength. Every scene feels like it belongs there.
How to Approach The Jetty
If you're going to dive into this series, do it with a bit of headspace. It’s heavy. It’s the kind of show that stays in your brain for a few days after you finish it. You start questioning your own memories of your hometown. You start thinking about the people you grew up with.
👉 See also: Blink-182 Mark Hoppus: What Most People Get Wrong About His 2026 Comeback
Watch it for:
The performances, especially Jenna Coleman's career-best work.
The atmospheric setting that feels like a character of its own.
The brave way it handles difficult, real-world themes without flinching.
Skip it if:
You want an upbeat, lighthearted mystery.
You are triggered by themes of grooming or sexual misconduct.
You prefer fast-paced, action-heavy police stories.
Final Practical Insights
To get the most out of The Jetty, keep these things in mind:
- Watch the background. The show uses visual storytelling—old photos, background characters, and subtle physical cues—to hint at the truth long before the dialogue confirms it.
- Context matters. Remember that the flashback sequences are set in the early 2000s. The social norms of that era are crucial to understanding why certain characters acted the way they did.
- Listen to the podcast. Within the show, the podcast elements provide a lot of the necessary exposition without feeling like a "data dump." Pay attention to what Riz is saying; she’s often voicing the thoughts the audience is having.
If you’ve already finished the series, it’s worth a second watch just to see how the clues were laid out in the first episode. Many of the "villains" are hiding in plain sight from the very beginning. The show is a masterclass in building tension through character rather than just plot twists. It’s a somber, thoughtful, and ultimately necessary piece of British television that proves the "detective" genre still has plenty of room to grow.
The best way to experience it is to block out an evening and watch it straight through. It functions more like a four-hour movie than a traditional episodic series. Once the water starts rising, you won't want to step away.
Next Steps for Viewers:
Search for "The Jetty filming locations" if you want to see the real-life counterparts of the lake and town; many are accessible for hiking and offer a similarly moody atmosphere. If the themes of the show resonated with you, look into the BBC’s "behind the scenes" interviews with Cat Jones, where she discusses the real-world research that went into the script's depiction of cold cases and grooming. Finally, check your local listings or iPlayer status to ensure you have access to the full box set, as watching it in one or two sittings preserves the atmospheric tension much better than weekly viewing.