Art. It’s supposed to be about beauty, right? Not in Midsomer. In the world of DCI Tom Barnaby, art is usually just a very expensive way to get yourself killed. If you’ve spent any time binge-watching the long-running British procedural, you know exactly which episode I’m talking about. Black Book Midsomer Murders—formally Season 12, Episode 2—isn’t just another body count in a quaint village. It’s a specific, sharp look at the high-stakes world of art forgery that manages to be both incredibly posh and deeply cynical.
Honestly, it’s one of the few episodes where the motive feels as layered as the oil paint on the canvases. We’re talking about a Hogarth. Or, well, a "Hogarth."
Most people remember this one because of the sheer atmosphere. It aired back in 2009, right in the heart of the John Nettles era. You've got the classic Barnaby-Stephens dynamic, which, let’s be real, was peak Midsomer. Ben Jones was finding his feet as the pragmatic sergeant, and the chemistry worked. But the real star wasn't the police work. It was the "Black Book" itself—a ledger of secrets, sales, and deceptions that makes the art world look more like a back-alley gambling den than a gallery.
The Forgery That Started the Bloodshed
The plot kicks off with the sale of a landscape painting. It’s attributed to Henry Hogarth, a (fictionalized) 18th-century master. When the painting fetches a staggering £400,000 at a local auction, people notice. Especially those who know a bit too much about where that painting actually came from.
Felicity Law is the character who really drives the tension here. She’s an artist, but more importantly, she’s a master of the "style." That’s the thing about Black Book Midsomer Murders; it digs into the technicality of the fraud. It isn't just about painting a pretty picture. It's about the age of the wood, the chemical composition of the pigments, and the "black book" that provides the provenance.
Provenance is everything in art. Without a paper trail, a masterpiece is just old trash. The black book in this episode acts as a fraudulent diary, a fake history designed to fool the experts. And it works. Until people start dying in ways that feel particularly... aesthetic.
I’ve always thought the pacing in this episode was a bit different from the standard "angry neighbor" trope. It’s slower. More methodical. Director Peter Smith leaned into the visuals of the Midsomer countryside, contrasting the lush greens with the clinical, cold greed of the art dealers. When George Bullard (the iconic pathologist) shows up, you know the refinement is over. The first victim is found suffocated, wrapped in a way that feels almost like a packaged piece of art. It’s grim. It’s classic Midsomer.
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Why the Art World Setting Works So Well
You’ve probably noticed that Midsomer Murders loves a closed-circle mystery. A cricket club. A bell-ringing group. A cult. By choosing the art world, the writers tapped into a very specific kind of pretension.
Art dealers in this episode, like the sleek and somewhat slimy Anthony Prideaux, represent a type of villain that fans love to hate. They aren't killing for passion or out of a momentary lapse in judgment. They are killing for margins. For percentages. It’s business.
One detail that stands out to longtime fans is the use of the "Hogarth" paintings. They weren't just random props. The production team actually had to create believable "masterpieces" that looked aged enough to pass the eye of a television audience that, let’s face it, is usually pretty observant. If the art looks like a middle-school project, the whole "£400,000" plot point falls apart. It didn't. The art looked legitimate, which made the deception feel dangerous.
Barnaby, Jones, and the Search for the Truth
Watching Tom Barnaby navigate this world is always a treat. He’s an outsider. He doesn't care about the brushwork or the "soul" of the piece; he cares about the timeline. While the art experts are arguing about the soul of the artist, Barnaby is looking at bank statements.
- The Sergeant's Role: Ben Jones gets some great moments here, playing the foil to Barnaby’s more intuitive style.
- The Culprit's Hubris: Like many of the best episodes, the killer’s downfall isn't a lack of intelligence. It’s an overabundance of ego. They think they are smarter than the police because they understand "fine art."
- The Family Dynamic: We even get a bit of the Barnaby home life, with Joyce and Cully providing that grounded reality that keeps the show from becoming too dark. Joyce’s interest in local events often mirrors the case, and here, the "art appreciation" theme hits close to home.
Is it the best episode ever? That’s debatable. But it’s certainly in the top tier of the later Nettles years. It’s an episode about masks. Everyone is pretending to be something they aren't—the paintings are fakes, the dealers are thieves, and the "refined" villagers are hiding some pretty nasty secrets.
The Legacy of the Black Book
When you look back at Black Book Midsomer Murders, you see a show that was at the height of its confidence. It wasn't afraid to be a bit "high-brow" while still delivering the bizarre murders the audience tuned in for.
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There’s a specific scene where the realization hits about how deep the forgery goes. It’s not just one painting. It’s a systemic corruption of the local history. That’s the real "black book"—not just a ledger of sales, but a record of how easily people can be manipulated if you give them something beautiful to look at.
Interestingly, this episode is often cited by fans who enjoy the "cozy mystery" vibe but want a bit more intellectual meat on the bones. It deals with the concept of value. What makes a painting worth half a million pounds? Is it the paint? The artist? Or just the story we tell about it? In Midsomer, the story is usually written in blood.
The episode doesn't rely on jump scares. It relies on that sinking feeling you get when you realize the person you're talking to isn't who they say they are. It’s a theme that resonates even more today, in an era of digital fakes and AI-generated "art." Maybe that’s why it still feels fresh when it pops up on streaming services or afternoon reruns.
How to Spot the Clues in Your Next Rewatch
If you’re going back to watch this one, pay attention to the backgrounds. The showrunners were very deliberate with the framing.
- Look at the lighting in the studio scenes. It’s designed to mimic the "Chiaroscuro" effect—the dramatic use of light and shadow—which is a nod to the very art they are discussing.
- Watch the interactions between the minor characters in the auction house. There are glances and hushed conversations that make way more sense once you know the ending.
- Pay attention to the "black book" itself when it finally appears. It’s a physical manifestation of the greed that's rotting the village.
The resolution is satisfying because it ties back to the human element. For all the talk of high-end art and international markets, the murders are driven by very basic, very ugly human emotions: envy and the fear of being found out. It’s a reminder that even in the most sophisticated circles, we’re all just a few bad decisions away from a Midsomer-style disaster.
Actionable Insights for Midsomer Fans
If you want to dive deeper into this specific era of the show, there are a few things you should do. First, compare this episode to "The Killings at Badger's Drift." You'll see how much the production value evolved over a decade. The cinematography in "Black Book" is significantly more cinematic.
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Second, if you're an art history nerd, look up the real William Hogarth. While the "Henry Hogarth" in the show is fictional, the style is heavily influenced by real 18th-century British art. Understanding the real Hogarth’s penchant for social satire adds a whole other layer of irony to the episode. The show is satirizing the very people who claim to love satire.
Finally, keep an eye out for the recurring themes of "the outsider." In many episodes, the killer is someone who feels they’ve been denied their rightful place in the village hierarchy. In this case, the art world provides the perfect ladder for that social climbing—and the perfect place to push someone off.
Whether you’re a newcomer or a seasoned Barnaby veteran, this episode is a masterclass in how to do a "themed" mystery without it feeling like a gimmick. It stays true to the characters while giving us a glimpse into a world that most of us will never enter—and after seeing what happens to the collectors in Midsomer, maybe that’s for the best.
Don't just watch for the solution. Watch for the craft. In an episode about fakes, the quality of the storytelling is the one thing that’s 100% genuine. Check the credits, look at the filming locations (usually around Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire), and appreciate the last few years of the Nettles era. It was a specific moment in television history that we probably won't see again.
Next time you see an "undiscovered masterpiece" at a yard sale, maybe just walk away. It's safer that way. Or at least, check if there's a black book attached to it first. If there is, call the police—preferably someone with a dry sense of humor and a reliable sergeant.